Chapter 2:
Anyway, my mind is working way too much today. I suppose I'm finally going insane like the rest of my neighbours. They're a nice enough crowd at times when they're not taunting me, making crude jokes or raving about gruesome ways to snap a man's spine in half with everyday objects such as pencils. I'm not allowed to talk to them. She told me not to speak, not to rise to their taunts, not to look or even smell them till she comes. I gave my word and I ... I can't break it. But who was she I'm taking orders from a woman I don't even know, which is kind of pathetic really but I have a feeling not to try and do otherwise.
My neighbours are all very talkative over whether the Joker (an insane guy who is supposed to be the big cheese around here) was going to win his little brawl with Batman (a so called 'hero' who has probably put most of these people in here) today. They were all taking bets and trying to see who would get more scraps; Batman or the Joker. Out loud they supported the Joker but in the privacy of their minds I know they only did do so in order so that when he is thrown back in this pit - that he would be merciful to them and not try to kill them or their loved ones.
People are cowards in that respect.
I looked up out of my cell towards the bashed and cracked wreak of a television (a word I picked up on the first week of my 'treatment' cycle) in order to see how things are on the outside. A woman named Poison Ivy got taken down last week by the Batman after a deranged attempt to level a factory that was sawing down 'rainforests' to make wooden furniture, whatever they are. Then there was a man called 'the Calendar man' who got out of this place two days before that. The Penguin is rumoured to be out working the streets again; gearing up for some fight against Batman, but so far he's not made his move. I've heard that a few others are here too from Blackwood due to a 'accidental' fire there so it's more rowdy then usual. My cell, sorry 'home', is located in Intensive Treatment in the centre of Arkham Asylum so there's plenty of neighbours to watch out for. I keep myself to myself mostly, since I haven't actually spoken to any of the people here in fear of them lining up some sort of electric shock therapy like they do for the others. The doctors say I have Post traumatic stress disorder and that I also have something called 'Recessive Amnesia' but I have no idea what all that means. A nail that stands out gets hammered in, as the old motto goes. So I stay quiet, stay solemn and above all try not to make a name for myself.
According to the television; the Joker has currently barricaded himself into the Mayor's office and its assumed that the Batman is currently making his way to him. I can't see any sign of a battle though, since there is no usual bangs and sparks appearing from the windows of the building, but soon I think the doors will open and the Batman will pull the Joker out with cuffs on his wrists. It's only a matter of time till then. However, what had gained my interest in what was going on the outside was the swarms of reporters that descended on the Mayor's office in order to gain an exclusive scoop on the action. Isn't it funny that we all worry about appearing normal so the rest of us don't turn on ourselves? We fashion ourselves into perfect citizens in order to make sure that no one notices us and in effect makes the wheels of society turn. Every discovery, I suppose, therefore is made in the fear of being betrayed by society and our peers.
Treachery makes the world go around in short.
It's a crude idea but one I can easily swallow. Humans are so maluable after all.