And what will the poor robin do then, poor thing?
Brianna supposed that the Joker's very favorite pass-time would have to be harassing the red-haired lady that currently resided in the cell next to hers.
From the very moment they woke up, he decided that he would enjoy starting a conversation with the woman, who did her very best to ignore him. He continued to spew harassment—er, nonsense. Brianna struggled to block out his grating voice, but she had to hand it to him; he was hard to ignore.
Brianna opted to sit cross-legged in the middle of her cell, listening and occasionally turning to watch as the guards paced every so often. She noticed the painfully familiar guard the most, but he only passed by once. There was one other guard who paced with the familiar person, but she paid him no attention. She instead watched the green-eyed man, studying him. He had chocolate colored hair and a bit of stubble on his square jaw. His shoulders were broad and he looked like he could possibly punch a hole in a wall—actually, he looked as if he already had. He was attractive, but Brianna felt no attraction.
Emma seemed to have vanished since her dream. Brianna was used to not seeing her, of course, but even if she wasn't there she could feel her. Or, at least she supposed she could, because now that Emma was gone she realized that she had. It was a strange absence that made her shiver, one that she had never even felt when she was taking her medication. She felt cold where she was once warm.
However, it was not an unpleasant feeling.
The walls of her cell was cold, and her room was a little drafty, her bed extremely uncomfortable and the one time she tried the sink it had gushed rust—though she wasn't sure if she had imagined that last bit or not. The whole ordeal was impeccably uncomfortable, but there was one particular piece that really made her itch.
Dr. Jonathan Crane refused to stop staring at her. She could feel it, on the back of her neck as she sat in her cell, her back facing the Plexiglas wall in an attempt to ignore everyone on the outside. Since he woke up himself he had gone back and forth between pretending to stare at his book and then staring at her when she wasn't looking. But she could feel it. His attention made her back itch relentlessly, and she kept reaching back to scratch at it, which she was sure was peculiar in itself.
Unsurprisingly, being without Emma made her feel much calmer, but also nervous at the same time. She knew what Emma did; and she also knew that Emma was stronger than her, perhaps much more feral. Emma had the strength to do what Brianna would not, and perhaps that was the girl's one redeeming quality. She pressed her lips into a tight line at the thought.
"Brianna Clark, it's time for breakfast."
Brianna stiffened slightly, her muscles tensing in annoyance, before finally relaxing. She reminded herself once more that appearance was everything in a place like this. However, it wasn't as forced as it had been before. With Emma gone she was so much more relaxed, so when she stood and turned, the smile wasn't as hard to bring to her lips as it had been previously.
There was a guard as her door, but not the one she recognized and she was grateful for that. Thinking so heatedly about why she recognized him was starting to give her a massive headache, and incredibly frustrating. Besides that, she was also extremely annoyed that she was in this predicament, but not necessarily at Emma the more she thought it over. Really, it was Dr. Burton's fault; he had decided not to give her medication, when she very well could be back home, begging for her job back and finding some man to have sex with so she could get over the fact that her last time had been with Yuki.
The thought made her cringe.
She stood and walked to where he was waiting for her, and once he got there he swiftly cuffed her hand together in front of her, then grabbed the chain link in between the cuffs to pull her by, closing the door behind her. Another guard came up behind her, and she rolled her eyes. Just as long as they didn't touch her skin, she supposed it would be alright to allow them to go unscathed.
The guards herded her down the hall, using a different pass code to leave the Rogue's Gallery—she just knew that they had to have a different one for each side. He led her down the hallway, to another room that was packed with people, guards and patients alike. The guards stood against the walls while the patients ate at long rectangular tables, reminiscent of a high school lunch room. She was ushered into the line, and then simply fell into the flow.
It appeared as everyone knew exactly what wing she belonged to. The patients in front of her skittered forwards as fast as possible, and the patients behind her stayed several steps away at all times. A guard walked next to her—one of her very kind escorts—and another waited for her at the end of the line.
Of course, she didn't particularly see the point of even calling this meal breakfast besides the fact that it was at the beginning of the day. A lunch-lady—er, man?—slopped a pile of brown-grey substance onto her plate, and she wasn't quite sure if it was supposed to have noodles or rice in it to compliment. Then she was given a bottle of water that she was sure she would be forced to throw away once she was done. Then she was promptly led from the room.
She could feel every single patient staring at her back as she left, and her eyes slid to gaze back at each and every one of them. Their gazes didn't falter, and her finger's twitched slightly. She drank in every possible second.
The guards led her down the hallway to another room. She was confused for a moment; why did they simply not leave her to eat with the other inmates? Surely they didn't care about their health so much. But they simply brought her to a small room, with a table in the center. She entered before they could push her in, and sat down at the table. One of her escorts stood beside the door inside the room, and the other out in the hallway.
When her breakfast partner arrived, her guards took their place on the inside and outside, as well. Brianna immediately recognized her as the woman that had the cell beside hers. Her fiery red hair was wild and curly, and her green eyes pierced into Brianna the moment that she stepped into the room.
Brianna could not deny this woman her beauty. She was gorgeous in every way, from her endlessly long legs to her perfectly arched eyebrows. She regarded Brianna for a second, before making her way into the room to take a seat across from her.
"You are the new girl," she murmured. Brianna was struck by the fact that even her voice was beautiful. It was soft and melodic, as if she was the wind. Brianna stared at her for a moment with her icy blue eyes; once again, she realized that the woman was undeniably attractive, but there was no attraction.
She didn't reply to the woman's words, seeing as it was a statement rather than a question. She had no need.
"We do not often get new rogues," she murmured, nodding gently. "I believe that I heard your name this morning; Brianna Clark, was it?"
Brianna looked up from her meal briefly to stare at the woman with cold eyes, before she sighed. It was not wise to make enemies here, especially with the most wanted villains of Gotham. She smiled at the beautiful woman, and she supposed it was not fake.
"Yes. And you are?" She inquired, sitting up a little straighter. She could feel the guards watching her warily and couldn't help the short, nasty quirk that appeared on her lips in return to the attention.
"Poison Ivy, but you may call me Pamela. It's my real name, after all." She laughed lightly, and Brianna was surprised at how beautiful the noise was, like bells on the wind. She gave Pamela a nice smile.
"You're very pretty, Pamela," she said shortly, as if it were a fact. The red haired woman looked shocked for a moment at the sudden comment, before her eyes narrowed. She smiled, none the less, but Brianna knew that she assumed she was some sort of lesbian. Now that she had a moment to think about it, she presumed that she was not. Brianna knew by the look in Pamela's eye, however, that she didn't mind attention from females, just as long as it was attention.
"Thank you, Brianna," she hummed, and placed her hand on the table. Brianna suddenly felt cold and discreetly slid her chair back slightly. Her sneakiness was of no avail, because Pamela noticed immediately, and unlike most, understood immediately. "You do not like being touched," she presumed, and Brianna gave her a look that confirmed her guess.
"It is more that I do not like to be touched without giving someone permission to touch me," Brianna said robotically. She used her bent fork to scoop some of her maybe-breakfast into her mouth.
"So, I assume that you are 'Bad Dog?" Pamela asked, changing the subject. She gave a sneaky smile, as if she knew something that no one else did. Brianna scowled and gave her a light glare.
"No, and do not assume so," she spat, and Pamela gave her a shocked look. She looked slightly hurt, and so Brianna changed the subject once more, to something she knew that both of them would be more comfortable with. "Could you explain to me why they put us in a separate room to eat our meals?" She raised an eyebrow at Pamela, and she suddenly looked less like an injured dog.
Brianna realized that she liked Pamela. She was nice, at least, and didn't seem particularly crazy. She didn't understand why she was in an asylum, at least. Brianna was in Arkham and she knew why; because clinically, mentally, and according to law she was considered diseased, but curable. She had what they liked to call 'multiple personality disorder' and 'schizophrenia.' She was no idiot; she knew what she took the medicine for. Perhaps she was not plagued in the same way that every other person in the world was, but the rest of the world would look at her the same way she looked at them if they knew.
"They put us in here because they believe that we will hurt the other patients," Pamela scoffed, leaning back in her chair. Brianna noticed that she had not yet taken a single bite of her breakfast. "Also, because the doctors think that we each need to visit with each other to learn to get along and be socially acceptable. You'll be eating with someone else for dinner, and I imagine, unless that person happens to break some rules, it will be the same cycle from here on out."
Brianna frowned. "Otherwise I simply sit in that cell?" Obviously, the thought did not appeal to her.
"Ah, no. I'm sure you'll be meeting with your doctor once or twice every week, and then we have recreational time—that one they attempt to mix the people up every once in a while. And group therapy, which is much like kindergarten." She suddenly got a strange, jealous look in her eyes. "You'll probably get some time in the garden, too, because you're new and haven't really broken any rules."
Brianna understood immediately; Pamela was not as human as the rest of them. She was rumored to have the surprising ability to speak with plants and have them carry out her every beck and call. Brianna was never sure whether that was really true, or if Pamela was simply a schizophrenic as she was, herself.
It was a strange feeling, after being so angry with so many people, that she would find one person that she actually enjoyed being around, even if it only lasted for the moment. Especially since Yuki had broken her trust in him over some blond bimbo.
"I-"
"Alright, time to head back," one of the guards barked. Brianna looked up at him, annoyed that he interrupted her, but didn't bother to actually finish her sentence. She realized with a vague annoyance that she had never touched her water, but when she looked at it again she realized that it was tinged red-brown with rust, just as the sink-water. She easily tossed it away, after that.
The guards had never removed her hand cuffs, but it had not hindered her eating abilities at all. They led her down the corridors before they allowed Pamela to leave, probably since she had been the second one in, and they made their way back to West Wing thoughtlessly.
Brianna was allowed back into her cell, thankful that they still did not feel the need to touch her in any way, and she watched them walk away right after they removed her hand-cuffs. Something out of the corner of her vision caught her eye—a strange glint of light that pricked her retina. She looked up, and found Crane staring at her, his glasses glinting sharply in the artificial light. She stared back for a moment at his piercing blue eyes, then decided that she wasn't particularly fond of this game and looked away to busy herself.
The day dragged on while she had nothing to do. She was beginning to wish that Emma was around, if only to amuse her by annoying the hell out of her. Her mind wandered plenty, usually going to thoughts of Kendall and Yuki and how they were probably in her office fucking each other's brain's out at that very moment.
The thought made her head ache, and she made herself think of other thing's before she began to act out. To calm herself, she thought of being in this place like being on vacation. She was simply here so that her mind could have a break. Eventually that thought was abandon, right about the time that the Joker began to cackle madly again.
After what appeared to be one million years later the recognizable guard came to her cell door and nodded to her. She was curious as to what was going on—perhaps it was time for lunch? He opened the door, and cuffed her hands together, then led her down the hall in the opposite direction from the last time. Several more hallways later, he arrived at a set of double doors that led straight into what must have been a greenhouse.
In this green house, Dr. Burton was waiting.
The only redeeming quality was the fact that he had lunch with him, and it wasn't whatever had been required for breakfast. Some white paper bag, one for him (that of which was considerably larger) and another for her. Brianna thought if she could perhaps begin to like her doctor for his small, selfless deeds.
"Brianna! It's good to see you. How is your first day going?" He asked pleasantly, patting the bench beside him, removing the white paper bags. As she had assumed, he handed one to her while she took her seat.
Still, she was bitter about the whole ordeal. It wasn't completely her doctors fault; there were several other people that had led her here, as well. Her eyes narrowed at the thoughts of Kendall, with her conniving eyes and her perfect fucking hair. There was no way that she was possibly real; she had to have been made of plastic. Of course, the size of her boobs would attest to that.
"It is going as you would expect," she said, narrowing her eyes. Prying open the bag, she peered inside. An apple, a sandwich, and a kid sized water-bottle, that of which she rolled her eyes at. She pulled the apple out, anyway, and took a healthy bite out of its rosy skin.
"And how is that?" He frowned, looking at her. She raised an eyebrow at him as she swallowed, a short, haughty smile painting her lips.
"Don't play psychiatrist with me; I'm not in the mood." Dr. Burton frowned a bit before forcing a smile on his face. Something about this girl reminded him too much of another of Arkham's patients. He just hoped that she wouldn't start reversing the conversation onto him, treating him as if he was crazy. He forced a smile on his face, however, not particularly urgent on upsetting his patient. He still had the notes from however long ago it had been, when she wasn't quite as far gone; when she wasn't attacking people, and claiming that her name was Emma.
If Emma wasn't so eerie, Dr. Burton might have liked her more than Brianna. She smiled, of course, but her smiles were always twisted while Brianna simply glared at him as if she resented his very existence. He didn't understand what would cause that sort of mental damage, this sort of disgust at every person she encountered, yet a tolerance for it.
She took another bite of her apple as Dr. Burton struggled to think of what to do next.
"But I am your psychiatrist," Dr. Burton said, putting his elbows on his knees, watching her as she swallowed another bite of her fruit.
"You don't need to be," she snapped, her eyes flickering to his. Her glare was stoic, but ferocious in indescribable ways. It was obvious what she was getting at; she wanted to get out, to go home with her medicine and not come back ever. She saw that he knew, and her anger swelled.
"Yes, I do, Brianna," Dr. Burton sighed, squeezing his eyes closed and pinching the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on. "It is my job to help you become a functioning civilian—because of your case, I can arrange to have you set free once your are better instead of being sent to Blackgate—"
"Yes, yes, I know," she mumbled, taking another bite of her apple. She made a face, suddenly, and parted her lips, reaching to her teeth. Dr. Burton rubbed his eyes tiredly as she pulled something from her mouth, and missed the shocked expression on her face.
Brianna stared down at the maggot that must have been in the apple. It wriggled disgustingly and she flinched, dropping it on the ground. Suddenly without appetite, she dropped the apple as well, stepping on the worm before it could wriggle away. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips against her mouth. Shit, shit, shit. She struggled to push the image from her mind.
"If you know so well, then allow me to help you-"
She pulled the water-bottle from the bag in an attempt to wash the bitter taste from her mouth, uncapping it and taking a drink. She swallowed before she looked down and realized that this bottle was filled with rusty, red-brown water as well. She coughed and sputtered, cutting off Dr. Burton's annoyance to look at her with wide eyes as she set down the bottle and tipped it over on accident, eyes screwed shut. Iron-filled water splashed against the cement and rocks below the bench, staining it red.
The water had been thick—or maybe, she thought it had been thick after she drank it. Brianna didn't want to think about it; she wanted to go back to her cell and maybe try to sleep, or distract herself with listening to the Joker giggle and taunt Pamela the way that he simply always did.
"I want to go back," she choked. Dr. Burton frowned, but nodded to the guard that had led her here. Without another word she stood, skirting around the guard and making her way back into the hallways. The guard followed her closely, and her doctor watched them.
Dr. Burton didn't know what he was going to do, how he was going to make her understand. He simply knew he had to, otherwise his gut told him that something bad would happen, that things would be out of his—or anyone else's—control.
A/U: These chapters in the asylum just drag ON and ON.
Anyway, is any one of my readers interested in Slenderman at all? I was simply curious; if you are, then you may have watched (or sometimes read) one of or several of the mytho's (the stories made by other people) about a certain slender man. Some of my friends and myself are putting ourselves together and are going to try and tackle this humongou prject, that of which I have to sort of re-write at this point. :x
ins0mniac - Honestly, I never really looked up any of these illnesses. At least, not recently. When I was younger I went through a phase where I was very interested in these kinds of things, which emant I read books like My Secret Garden (I don't remember the author, sadly) and asked my mother a ver LOT of questions about what it meant to be scitzophrenic and have multiple personality disorder and why did people mix them up all of the time?
Zeny - Nooot feeling so lucky any more. :x School starts in just over a week. I'm excited, of course, but it still kind of sucks that my summer is almost over. T.T
Guest - Don't worry, you do get to know more about her. :)
arielles - Your guess it right! :D
sgt pippa - T.T I'm happy a least one of us likes the Asylum. Honestly, much like poor Brianna, it's driving ME crazy, as well!
I'm still having issues writting through this bit of block. Now, I'm stuck on chapter 13, and I still am hating this. It's not coming as smoothly any more, and I'm really hoping that this passes. . It's like a sickness.