Annabel Lindor hadn't had a very good day. When she woke up, she found that Jon had taken her favorite car to work, and he had taken the credit card as well. She tried calling her best friend, Lavender, and found that she was out shopping. After bothering the maids for a bit, and searching the entire house for a credit card or even a set of car keys, she sat down and pouted. Frowning, the gorgeous redhead had sat on the DeCoro chaise lounge for an hour trying to think of something interesting to do. This was very difficult, as she usually just went around spending money on a credit card that never really seemed to max out. But Annabel didn't worry about things like that; that was Jon's job.
When she heard the front door open, and someone stop to put keys into a dish that was so old it was past even retro. "Jon!" the redhead screeched too loudly from the living room.
Jonathan gritted his teeth as the name his girlfriend called him echoed through the house. One of the maids gave him a pointed look from a doorway as he walked into the living room. He knew exactly what kind of day it had been at his home while he was away. Jonathan had taken every credit card, and anything that would vaguely resemble a card in Annabel's eyes, to the asylum, and hid all keys in the house. He looked around at the disarray in the living room that was no doubt spread to the rest of the house, and met his girlfriend's large, hazel eyes that had adorned many magazine covers.
"You were supposed to be home for lunch an hour ago, Jon. Don't you love me? You're so busy with work all the time now…" She said to him, whining. He ignored her comment, amused that the girl believed herself to be in love with him after only a month and a half of knowing him. "And I can't find those cute, little fluffy pillows that I bought a couple days ago anywhere. Do you know where they went?"
"I have no idea. I have some work to attend to; I'll be in my study." He said, and walked into his office. He was still amazed at how clueless Annabel could be. Every three days, he had some of the maids return most of the purchases that she had made, except of course those that he knew that she would miss terribly. The pillows would probably only occupy her small mind for a few more hours at most. Jonathan sank into his oversized, comfortable armchair, picked up the phone, and dialed the number to the asylum.
"Frank? This is Dr. Crane. There is a woman who is to be admitted; perhaps she has already arrived. I need you to place her in a solitary room, in the medium security ward. And please remove the camera in her room." He said briskly to his head orderly.
"Of course Dr. Crane. Is she to be placed on any medications?" Frank asked him. It was very unusual for Dr. Crane to request that the cameras be removed from a medium security patient.
"Not yet Frank… I will speak to you tomorrow." Jonathan said quickly and hung up the phone. He knew that Frank would think that he was acting strangely, but that was of no matter.
"Jon! Where did you go?" Annabel screeched from the living room. Jonathan sighed and walked out of his office and into the living room.
Amber awoke with a terrible headache. Slowly, she examined the room she was in. It reminded her of the hospital strongly. The room was completely white, and she was lying on a small, rather uncomfortable bed that was suspended from chains. There was a tiny window that was obviously created to be unbreakable. She also noticed that there was a table fashioned out of light wood, and a padded chair. In the corner, there was a wall that hid what she assumed to be the bathroom from view of the door.
She tried to recall what had happened. The last thing that she remembered was being nearly hit by a taxi. But how had she managed to walk out in front of the taxi in the first place? She had lived in New York City all her life, and was no stranger to the busy streets. Then she remembered with dread the man who was standing behind her, and the violent shove that he had given her.
He seemed to be so familiar, but his face was slightly blurred in her memory. The only thing that she could recall about him was his dark brown hair and brilliant blue eyes. She frowned, trying to find him in her mind. She was interrupted in her thoughts by two loud clicking noises, and a large door that she hadn't noticed before opening. She looked up curiously at the new man who entered. He had brown hair that was shot with grey, warm brown eyes, and was dressed like a doctor. "Ms. Larks?" He asked her quietly. "I was instructed to remove the camera in your room. Are you hungry?"
"No. When will I be allowed to leave?" Amber asked briskly, assuming that she was in the hospital.
"Dr. Crane didn't tell me that. I assume that you will be let out in about a week. That is our usual time period for watching people with your, umm, condition."
"What condition? Where am I and who are you?" Amber was panicked, she wasn't in the hospital, and she didn't like the sound of Crane being around.
"My name is Frank, and you are in the medium security ward at Riverside Asylum. You apparently jumped in front of a cab, trying to commit suicide." He informed her quietly.
"I did NOT jump into traffic! I was pushed! I demand to be released from this asylum immediately!" She felt a twinge of fear as she screamed this. Her editor had warned her something like this would happen. But she had insisted upon reporting on everything that had happened in Gotham City three months ago. And look where it had gotten her. If only she had listened to her photographer, Brian, and broken the golden rule of reporting; never share any information that you get with the cops before you make some money off it. "I want a psychiatric examination to confirm my mental health." She stated in a calmer tone. The man was unscrewing a small camera from the wall.
"I'm sorry miss, but those can only be handled by Dr. Crane himself, and he isn't expected in until tomorrow." He said. Amber felt like exploding with rage while the man walked out without another word. She attempted to kick the chair, but found that it and the table were bolted to the floor. Scowling, she sat on the bed until she fell asleep.
"How is our new patient?" Jonathan asked Frank.
"She seems to be in good health; although she did request an examination to evaluate her ability to leave. I told her that you wouldn't be in until today." Frank replied.
"That can wait. Did you remove the camera from her room?" He asked him.
"Of course, Dr. Crane…. What is that noise?" Both of them tilted their heads to listen to a faint pounding on one of the walls. Frowning, Jonathan looked at Frank questioningly.
"You locked all the rooms back from your visits?" Jonathan asked him. Frank nodded. "Stay here and watch the cameras to make sure that no one has gotten out."
Jonathan walked out of the office and down the hall. The pounding got louder as he passed through the minimum security. He swiped his card through the clearance device on the wall and stopped to listen once he entered the medium security ward. The noise was definitely coming from a room in this hall. He walked down, and listened at each room, until he found the room that the noise was emanating from. He checked the name plate next to the large white door, and found that his suspicions were true; it was Amber Larks' room.
He knocked briskly twice on her door, and the hammering stopped for a moment, then continued. He opened the door, and returned the glare she immediately gave him when he looked at her. She had been lifting the heavy cot and slamming it against the wall.
"You bastard." Amber spat at him. "You are a disgusting excuse for a human."
"Oh, and I was so hoping that we could be good friends, Amber. But if you insist upon insulting me so—"
"I have every right to publish my article on you. You are inhibiting the First Amendment."
"You know that I'm not doing anything wrong until someone catches me. And the chances of that happening are slim. You are in my asylum; I control who you may speak to, if anyone. So tell me Amber, how exactly is someone to find out you are in here?" He said with a triumphant smirk.
Amber felt rage boiling inside her. She tried to control it, but when she felt a sudden rush of blood to her head, she couldn't stop herself. She raised her hand and slapped him hard on his cheek. He looked at her, shocked that she would be so bold, and then gave her the coldest look that she had ever received.
"We will speak again in a few days, Amber. Perhaps then your temperament will have improved." He said, glaring, and stormed out of the room, slamming the heavy metal door behind him. Amber was pleased that she had managed to make him so angry, and happily went back lifting her bed up and slamming it against the wall. After a few times, her arms got tired, and she looked around the room again. A dark object caught her eye, and she stretched her arm out to get it. Examining it, she saw that it was a security clearance card, with Crane's unsmiling face on the picture ID on the back.
Suddenly, she heard a sharp knocking on her door. "Amber?" a familiar voice said.
"Missing something, Crane?" she replied cheerfully. "Oh, we will have fun now." She was overjoyed. "This really is a lovely card. But what a horrible face on the back. I think that I might just, oh, flush it down the toilet…"