Authors Note: I hope everyone is ready for a new installment! I'm excited to bring it to you all! Please read and review I love to hear from you! :D

Chapter 3

"This is Vicki Vale, coming to you live outside of Austin Newbury's home on Oak Street. New Year's Day wasn't a good day for everyone in town, especially not the Newbury family and Austin's girlfriend when the thirty-one-year-old was found dead around eight PM by his girlfriend Annabelle." A photo of Austin Newbury and his girlfriend sitting on a couch together showed on the activity room television set. "It has been reported that Mr. Newbury was bludgeoned to death, but sources say they aren't sure who might have done this as Mr. Newbury was a well liked man, and didn't appear to have any enemies. I'm Vicki Vale from the Gotham News Network."

Edward sat in his straitjacket, still being punished for punching Jervis in the face. It seemed Jervis took the hint and avoided him. Jervis was nowhere to be seen that day, at least not around Edward. He was glad to also note no one had forced any more pills down his throat, and it made him realize it was the Paxil that was giving him the hot flashes.

It seemed Edward's skin had stopped feeling enflamed, allowing him to feel the real temperature around Arkham Asylum for the first time since he first got there. He felt good, better than good. He felt wonderful being off the medication. He no longer wanted to make a new death trap and force the inmates of the Asylum, as well as the staff, through it.

The only thing Edward was slightly annoyed about was the fact he was a smoker, and they weren't allowing him any of his cigarettes. "Guard, I demand out of this pointless contraption." He looked towards the man standing a few meters away.

"Is that so?" The guard looked at him with annoyance.

"Yes! I'm a smoker, and I need my fix." He proclaimed.

"No one NEEDS to smoke. Now shut up." The guard turned his attention away.

Edward glared heatedly at the man. "I'm going through withdrawals! It's been three days!" He yelled angrily.

"I said shut it, Nigma!" The guard retorted angrily.

"Look, I don't need to be in this thing, I'm off my meds!" He argued.

The guard simply chuckled mockingly. "Because that statement makes you sound more sane..."

"I'm not crazy!" Edward yelled with frustration.

"Look at the comedian over here... you're hilarious Nigma." The guard took a few steps closer to Edward's chair, standing before him with the baton in one hand. "If I hear one more peep out of you, I'm hauling your ass off to solitary. Got it?"

Edward leered at the man. Was it going to be worth it? Would he regret it later? His mind didn't have time to compute as he kicked hard with his feet, kicking the guard in both knee caps as hard as he could muster, sending him to the floor before jumping up and attempting to run. Where was he running off to? He didn't have a plan, he was just running. The other guard in the room noticed Edward running for the hallway, and darted after him.

The thrill of running and the feeling of his heart beating rapidly in his chest sent a rush of excitement through him. He hadn't felt this way since he was last free. It was a short-lived feeling as another guard managed to coat hanger him on his way down the next hallway. Edward's head hit against the floor hard enough to knock him out cold.

When he came to he realized he was lying on a cot still in the straitjacket. He opened his eyes to look around but saw only darkness. Solitary. "N-no! Not here! Let me out of here!" He screamed as realization cut through him like a cold knife.

He had no idea what time it was or how long he had been out. He could hear the sounds of a few other inmates moaning and screaming, heightening his fear. What if the rumors were true? What if someone was going to beat him up? He shook a bit; no one was watching him, so he had nothing to hide.

It might have seemed crazy, even to Edward, but he hated not knowing what time it was. He hated wondering how long he'd be there. It wasn't fair, but he could do very little about it. How he wished he could simply sense the time.

Closing his eyes he decided it would be best to attempt sleep. For him it wasn't easy, but he would attempt to do so anyhow. Edward held his eyes closed as the minutes ticked by, or so he presumed. He felt sad, and he couldn't explain it; he had good reason to be, but he didn't have any specifications as to why. The room was cool and he welcomed it, especially after months of boiling skin.

Feet down the hallway sounded after what felt like hours. The feet seemed to stop, and the sound of a door opening caught Edward's attention. "No! Please no! I just want to get out!" A man screamed before the door was slammed shut.

Edward listened in horror as the muffled sound of a fist colliding with flesh and bone sounded in the next cell over. "Oh God..." Edward whispered as the rumors clearly were true.

The sounds seemed to echo in the darkness for an eternity, each minute making him feel increasingly ill. Finally the door creaked open, and the sound of whimpering could be heard before the door was closed again.

Edward listened as the footsteps stopped before another door. When the door opened there was silence, and then the door closed again. The sounds of punching and cynical laughing sounded; he was in the Joker's cell it seemed. "Is that all you've got Boles my boy?! Hahahaha!" Edward the blood drain from his face as more muffled sounds made it through to his ears.

The Joker seemed to take the beating as if it were a joke. Boles sounded agitated just listening to the insane clown. Why would he provoke him further? Did the beating not affect him at all?

When he left the Joker's cell he moved onto the one across from Edward. Another round of beating sounded, and the sounds of the door opening and closing echoed slightly. Edward heard his own door unlocking, much to his horror. The light on his room was switched on. He saw the cold eyes of Officer Boles before the door closed behind him.

Boles had bloody knuckles, but none of it was his own blood. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting the Riddler in person." He said in a rough voice.

"What are you going to do to me?" Edward felt his voice crack.

"Nothing the people of GothamCity wouldn't fully appreciate." He grabbed Edward by his straitjacket, knowing he was entirely defenceless.

Boles looked over his face. "You've got one ugly mug, you deathtrap-making bastard." With that Edward's jaw was met with a swift punch.

Edward panted heavily before groaning with pain. "Augh!" He yelled painfully.

"Here, let me fix that big ugly nose of yours." Before Edward could process a thought his nose made a sickening snap as it broke under Boles's hand.

Howling with pain Edward was dropped face down on the floor. Boles took out his baton and began beating his squirming body for another twenty minutes, before finally leaving Edward bruised and bloody on the ground.

Edward couldn't sniffle without tasting his own blood. His eyes were glistening with tears. Even in school he'd never taken a beating quite that bad, and if he did he could either defend himself or run away. Both choices weren't an option for him in that straitjacket.

He listened as a few other patients were beaten before he closed his eyes again, resting wearily on the stone cold floor. Perhaps he would bleed to death and that would be the end of him. He could only hope so. He just wanted the pain to stop.

What did he do to deserve this?

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