SwordStitcher-I feel so...unloved. You might have more friends if you didn't kill them all. So would you. I don't care. Well...guess you're stuck with me! Come here, best buddy of mine!

Just-Me-and-My-Brain-I was not written as loveable. For some strange reason, people forget that I did attempt to...get rid of...my half-sister. AND I WOULD HAVE SUCCEEDED! DAMN the Batman!

KittyComeHere-Somehow I doubt she cares. I care. I would like each and every one of you to never comment again. Then maybe she would stop tormenting me. But alas...

I loathe my doctors, each and every one of them. And I've been through quite a few. One of them I talked into suicide. I tried that on another one, but all I could manage was a nervous breakdown and eventual admittance to Arkham. Alas.

Arkham doesn't get the doctors that you civilians go to, oh no. We get the ones with questionable backgrounds, ones that should have retired last century, and ones fresh out of school with 'new ideas'. I was like that once, young and stupid.

God, I hate those ones most of all.

They spend far too much time trying to work out our 'motivations'. Most of them blame my traumatic childhood. That's just ridiculous. Plenty of people have had a terrible childhood and turned out…well…maybe not normal, but harmless. Or at least your garden-variety offender-child abusers, violent drunks…every so often you'll get a madman with a gun, but those don't happen as often as you'd like to believe.

Others accuse me of having an uncontrollable compulsion to scare. I was rather insulted by that, actually. What do I look like, the Riddler? He is uncontrollably compelled to leave riddles. I, at least, can go to the grocery store without (intentionally) inflicting blind panic on the masses. (For the last time, Kitty, they recognized me first! I had no choice but to gas the supermarket!)

Still others have no idea and just jot me down as being 'born utterly evil and crazy'. (I can read upside-down. They should start writing in French if they'd like to keep their conclusions from me.)

Oh, look at you! Thinking you'll succeed where trained minds (and I use that term loosely) have failed. I don't believe you'll be successful, but I'm in a good mood. Go ahead. Play psychiatrist. I'll behave, you have my word.

What? Too scared? I can't hurt you. See this straitjacket? They made it especially tight this time so I'll keep it on. (Not that that's ever worked before…) Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself. I am completely insane, after all. Or have you forgotten about that? All those screaming victims of mine…one of them impaled himself with a candlestick. Bled all over the carpet. Some of it even got on the walls…I had to get a stepladder to scrub it off.

You're looking a little pale. Are you afraid? There's nothing to be afraid of. There's a nice button to call for help. (Not that anyone ever comes.) And it's not even raining, for once. We're just having a nice little chat in the sunlight.

Tell you about my mother? Quid pro quo, child. Suppose I play along. I did promise, after all…but in return, I want you to tell me about your greatest fear. That's a harmless request, is it not? After all, what could I possibly do with the knowledge? I don't have my toxins, after all. You are quite safe. (Or so you think…)

I see you reaching for the panic button. Scared off so soon? What a pity, I was rather enjoying our conversation…that's better. After all, we have fifteen more minutes to chat.

Try breathing deeply. I would hate for you to faint due to lack of oxygen. There's no telling what could happen while you lay there, on the floor, dead to everything around you… (Like the fact that I'm halfway out of this wretched jacket!)

Why do I frighten people? I've never heard that question before. (Idiot!) What? Oh, nothing. The jacket's a bit too tight, I'm losing circulation in my left arm. It's nothing. (If you only knew the truth!) Well, now that you mention it, these aren't difficult to loosen. Just a touch. Yes, yes, our little secret. You can tighten it again before we leave and no one will be the wiser. (Until they see the body on the floor!)

You're too kind. Perhaps they can hire you… (If you weren't about to be a blubbering wreck…that vial's in here somewhere!)

No one's ever been so nice to me, actually…very well. I'll tell you everything. (Just a little more to the left!) Do you have a pen ready? Does the pen work? Perfect. All right. It's true. It was Granny. She made me into this. (FREE!)

Thank you for loosening that jacket, child. It makes it easier to take off. And I had the worst itch on my nose…oh, I wouldn't bother with that button. No one ever comes. They're all too busy harassing the henchgirls in C-block. They never learn their lesson. Neither, for that matter, do you idiot interns. You know you're the third one who's let me out of that infernal jacket?

Shh, shh. There's no reason to scream. (Ah! I knew there was a vial in here! You'd think they'd learn that they can't pick apart my formula in Arkham's laboratory.) Everything's going to be fine.

Whatever is the matter? You look as though you've seen a ghost.

I'll just show myself out. I know where to collect my luggage, thank you. You just lie on that couch and rest…clear your head a little. Be good. And don't take it too badly. I've pulled this on smarter people than you.

(Must've been a beautiful baby…must've been a beautiful child…)

THE END