Credit for all characters in Gotham and some key plot points go to the writers. My Oc is mine.
WARNING* My Oc character is criminally insane. In other words, she takes pleasure out of hurting people. If you cannot handle this type of content do not read the story.

*Also, hurting people mentally or physically is not cool. Don't do it.

I hope everyone enjoys! _

The boredom was back. It had been days since I picked out that piece of meat for slaughter, and Sionis was taking his sweet ass time delivering what he promised me. So here I was in my small cell, sprawled out on my shitty excuse for a mattress. I swear to God there was a bedspring poking my ass and to top it all of I had an obnoxious earworm in my head for the past three days. All and all, it was not a very lovely morning.

Which is why I took my time breathing out the sigh that had been building up inside me. Short sighs were for annoyed people, and I was far beyond annoyed by this point. No, I was downright livid.

" Inmate 177." A deep voice interrupted my thoughts. "Stand beside your bed with your hands up, facing the door."

I did what the man -who clearly was not my regular guard- told me to do. I slipped off the bed, turning my body towards the door and stretched my arms out to the sky. Seems like the games were about to start.

I could hear him jingling the keys as he placed one into the lock and turned it.

Ready

He swung the door open and walked into my cell.

Set

I felt his hand on my wrists. He grabbed them roughly as he placed my hands in front, and click the handcuffs on my wrists.

Go

"Hey, umm… these are kinda tight. Can you please loosen them a bit?"

Instead of answering me the guard tightened the handcuffs more. The action caused me to gasp, which he ignored.

We proceeded to exit the cramped cell. I took my time scanning the guy. My eyes caught onto his blonde hair and blue eyes. It was exactly who I needed it to be. Wonderful. Hmm… on the second look you can really notice his jawline, it's so defined. Nope. No drooling over your plaything. Back on task.

"What happened to Jon?" I asked staring into his eyes. I made sure to put on a slight hint of confusion on my face but mainly focused on my worrying.

His empathy picked up on my emotions, his face well still stern, had pity blooming in his eyes," Jon was attacked this morning by another inmate. He died."

I blinked in surprise almost as if the information had slapped me in the face. My eyes began to water a bit, so I broke eye contact and focused in front of us. I swallowed and then breathed out a pitiful, "oh." I concentrate on my breathing. I wasn't about to cry in front of a stranger.

After walking down the long hallway filled with jail cells, we came to a gate. The guard worked his guard magic, and we entered a different part of the building. The offices were all here. My breathing became even, and I blinked back the tears. I looked back into the guard's eyes, "sorry I didn't mean to freak out. Jon's always been... good to me."

The guard swallowed, he had a tinge of worry and understanding in his eyes. He saw me as a human being now, instead of an animal.

Step 2, complete.

I changed the subject,"So are you bring me to see Dr. Truso?"

"Ya, it's this way."

We continued our walk to the psychiatrist in silence.

Once we got to Truso's, he shifted in front of me to knock once on the steel door, then he paused, only to knock once again. The marvelous Dr. Truso greeted the both of us by swinging the door open and motioning for us to enter.

My guard let me walk in first, after all, guards are not supposed to show their back to us, the crazies. Understandable, really. However, it shows a lack of trust towards me. Smart.

I walked several paces towards the couch, the toy soldier tried to follow, but the good doctor placed her hand in front to block his path. Her serious demeanor grabbed his attention, he subconsciously straightened up; her searching eyes noticed his behavior and filed it away for later. The bitch loved to figure people out, she thought of us as puzzles instead of people.

She spoke to him with authority "My sessions with Miss Evans are one on one; no guards are permitted inside. You are required to stay outside my office for the duration of this session." With no further pause, the psychiatrist closed the door in his face.

I plopped down on the comfy couch with enthusiasm. "Heya doc."

She sighed.

"Good morning Miss Evans."

With a few brisk steps away from the door, she took a seat on the chair set up in front of the couch. The chair was positioned so she could tower over me. Apparently, it gives a psychiatrist a sense of authority that the patient is supposed to mirror.

Did it work on me? Nope. Did she still try to use the technique? Yep. Honestly, she wasn't very good at her job. The stick shoved up her ass got in the way of her actually having a working brain. Well, a working brain that wasn't focused on supporting her massive ego. Doctors these days, never as good as advertised.

"During our last session we talked about your relationship with your last boyfriend, Mr. Thomas Johnson..." she searched through her notes as if she hadn't spent the morning reviewing each sentence. "Yes, I believe you said, and I quote, 'It's not like I made him blow up that high school. It was his decision." she looked away from her notes and down her nose at me. " However, am I correct in my assumption that you were an active part of his decision making progress."

I stared into her eyes not bothering to provide her with facial expressions, "Is that your way of asking me if I told him to kill a bunch of innocent children."

Her face stayed stern, unforgiving, "Miss Evans this was not the first man you were acquainted with that ended up hurting people." The doctor shuffled through her notes once again, before continuing on, "It was not even the first one that tried to kill high school students. May I remind you of Jeremy smith, he broke into a high school with an Ak 47 and tried to murder a classroom full of students."

I blinked "Jeremy had problems, all of them did, but they were the ones that hurt those people. I never told them to kill anyone. That was there chose to make, not mine."

She continued, "So it's a coincidence that you go after men that randomly go from smart, successful young men into cold-blooded murders."

I shrugged, "Maybe, I don't have a very good taste in men."

"Perhaps, or maybe you go after these men because they remind you of your father."

"Excuse me." I spat out.

My reaction caused the corners of her mouth to turn up for a few seconds only to return to her previous expression. Finding satisfaction in my outburst she continued her verbal battle, "Your father was a successful CEO of a famous company, he graduated from Harvard with a great GPA. Your last three boyfriends all went to Harvard, one of them even graduated from the business program. It completely reasonable that you date these men and put them through extreme mental anguish as a way of getting back at your father."

I shook my head and looked away momentarily, only to return my gaze to her, and ask: "Get back at him for what?"

"You tell me."

Her schooled response provoked the raging beast inside me, so I snapped, "My father loved me, sure he missed a birthday or two, but he ran a multinational corporation so my mom and I could live in luxury. He was a great man."

"And did he make it to any of your performances?"

I crossed my arms,"He was busy."

"Was he?" she asked condescension evident in her tone.

Her tone took away the last of my self-control, It set me down the rabbit hole and on the warpath. I rolled off my defensive posture letting the animalistic impulses take over. Gone were the slouched shoulders and crunched up stomach; instead, my position was unnaturally straight. I watched as her body unconsciously reacted to the threat I presented. My eyes latched on to hers demanding absolute attention, her focus could be entirely on me, not her notebook. Now it was time to destroy any sense of control she felt. My lips curled up at the thought of her going home tonight and taking a shower, I could practically see her rubbing her skin raw trying to wash my gaze off.

"You know doctor, maybe the reason you think the route of my behavior comes from my relationship with my father is because you, yourself have issues with your own father. I bet he was an old-fashioned man, thought that instead of you trying to get an education you should get a rich husband, pop out a few kids." Oh, she did not like this turn of events. No, she was losing her power over me. "Maybe his lack of support changed you drastically. So to support your ego you had to focus on being successful, after all, clearly, you could no longer get the support you needed from love. It's the reason why tonight you'll go home to an empty apartment, feed your cat and go to bed early. Because your father ruined any possible relationship you could ever have with the opposite gender. Isn't that right doc?

The doctor stood up from her chair, face not revealing a single emotion, she turned away, towards the door and said, " That's the end of our session, I'll see you again two days from now."

Hook, line and sink her.

I laughed, standing up from the couch and made my way towards her, "What did I hurt your feelings doc?" my voice was full of fake sympathy, "Did I make you think too much about your pathetic excuse for a life?"

Truso couldn't take anymore, she swung her body around to face me as she did so, she raised her hand.

I felt a sharp pain, it took me moments to recognize where it came from. She hit me in the face, hard enough that it was going to leave a mark. Perfect.

She ignored me as I gasped in pain; instead, she opened up her office door and motioned for the guard to take me away.

I felt him eyeing the unmistakable bruise forming on my face, but he chose not to utter a word as we walked back to the cell. I was looking back at the ground again. My shoulders were drooping, plus my face was positioned in a way where he would see the mark, yet would still appear as if I was trying to hide it.

Oh, therapy, how I love you so.