Thank you to perra95, jedidah, takara410, Meg, Maggie Wilde, Azura Soul Reaver, Megushie (same person as Meg?), and adverturesstime for reviewing, and everyone else that is reading! You are all amazing! I love hearing what people think of it! Hopefully this chapter is long enough :P
"Here" said the attendant, throwing a bundle of clothing at her. She caught it in the air and unrolled it, revealing a dull gray cotton dress accompanied by dirty white sneakers. "Change, and be quick about it," the man ordered before leaving the room.
Elena stood up and reluctantly unbuttoned her white blouse before taking it off. She then kicked off her flats and pulled off her black skirt. Standing there, barefoot, on the cold linoleum floor in her lace underwear she put on her dress as quickly as possible, trying to avoid looking at her body as she did. Once she had it on, she discovered her dress had quarter length sleeves and was perfectly plain, except for the number "317" sewn at the top near her shoulder. It was a button down from the collar to the waist, and tapered out below her midsection, ending just above her knees. Now that she was dressed, Elena allowed herself to look in the mirror and decided that her mental hospital uniform wasn't as bad as it could have been. At least she didn't have to wear those hospital gowns that didn't cover anything.
Sharp knocking on the wooden door interrupted her thoughts. "Number 317, let's move!"
Quickly slipping on her hand-me-down tennis shoes, she twirled in front of the mirror and took one last look at herself before she left. The grey dress brought out her eyes, which were smudged with mascara, and her straight blonde hair was slightly tousled from lying down for so long. Brilliant, she thought gloomily.
Walking out the door, the same orderly roughly grabbed her arm and marched her quickly down the hallway. It smelled strongly of bleach and the dim flickering lights were beginning to give her a slight headache. They reached the end of the hallway and the man swiped his ID card at a slot on the wall. There was a loud buzzing sound and the metal doors automatically swung open. She tried to get a better look at his badge, but only had enough time to catch his name- Bradley- before he clipped it back to his shirt pocket and forced her to continue their speed walk down the hall. They took a left, but were forced to stand to the side as three other orderlies wearing the same white uniform as Bradley's dragged a screaming man past them.
Their patient was of medium build and height, but was putting up quite a struggle. He had wild red hair and a pair of green eyes, which met hers as he was escorted past. At the sight of her, however, he calmed down and reached out to grab her arm as he walked by. It was as if he recognized her, but Elena was sure that she had never seen him before in her life.
"Who in the world am I?" he asked.
However, she was spared from having to speak when he answered his own question.
"Ah, that's the great puzzle." The orderlies then yanked him off of her and continued to escort him down the hallway, but now he no longer put up any resistance. "Until next time, Alice," he called, laughing. Even though she was walking in the opposite direction, his voice seemed to follow her, resonating off the walls. Hopefully whatever he had wasn't contagious.
After a few minutes they arrived at her cell. The guard roughly shoved her inside and slammed the metal barred door shut without saying another word. Perhaps he thought words shouldn't be wasted on a mentally unstable person such as herself. Rolling her eyes, Elena turned around to evaluated her new living space. Thankfully the room only had one bed, but besides that the asylum bore a disturbing resemblance to prison. There was a toilet, sink, and cheap metal framed bed with dark grey sheets and a thin cotton blanket. The walls were grey, the floor was grey, and even the water from the tap looked slightly grey. Arkham really needed to fire their interior decorator. But they did get one thing right- there was no mirror in her cell for her to break and use as a weapon.
Curious, she walked back to her cell door and peered through the bars. Identical cells were on her left and right, and across from her all along the first floor. Looking up, she saw a white security camera posted on the upper corner of the wall, above a sign that said "Ward C." From what she had heard and seen on television, she thought mental hospitals were supposed to be loud and chaotic, but no one in her ward made a sound. Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she saw a woman with dull, limp red hair staring at her from a cell across the hallway. She had pretty green eyes and pale skin which was marred with (what she hoped was) smudges of dirt. After surveying her with appraising eyes, the woman retreated into the back of her cell, hidden from view.
Elena collapsed on her bed but she wasn't the least bit tired. She'd only just woken up and was bursting with energy, and now her mind was racing, trying the figure out the best way to escape. With all the security procedures and personnel though, she would probably have to wait at least a month or two before she even knew the place well enough to break out. Frustration overwhelmed her- she needed to be out now.
It should have been no surprise to her that the justice system failed her, but she had been stupid enough to believe that Carl Finch would keep his word and help her if she gave him the information he needed. He had seemed so sincere, but not sincere enough for her to trust him with the real reason she needed Falcone out of the picture. Other faces flashed through her memory- Jacobs, the judge, corrupt police officers, false friends- all of them she despised. And the expert witness himself, Doctor Crane, now how could she forget about him? Not only did he work for Falcone (she was sure of this fact now), but he was the most arrogant jerk she'd ever met. It was almost like he thought he ran the city. His attractiveness only served to irritate her more.
A loud buzzer noise interrupted her thoughts, followed by a loud clang as all the cell doors opened simultaneously. She cautiously peered outside, and saw about thirty other patients wandering out of their cells and forming a line. Hesitantly, she stepped outside and slid into line behind the red haired woman she had seen earlier.
"Move it, inbreeds!" shouted a particularly horrible orderly.
They began to shuffle forward, and Elena could hear the woman behind her muttering something that sounded like, "Scarecrow, scarecrow.."
They turned right and a guard swiped his id card, so they were buzzed through a set of plain metal doors into the Pharmacy. She was towards the front of the line, and was one of the first in front of the office to receive her meds.
"Name?" the man asked.
"Elena Moretti."
The man stopped shuffling papers for a moment and looked up at her, and smiled. It was seemingly friendly, but the warmth in his face did not extend to his eyes, which remained dark and cold.
"You're new, correct? I would have remembered a face like yours."
She'd heard worse, so she flashed a smile at him.
"Yes, I am."
"Moretti, here you are," he said, checking her name off of a list. He handed her a paper cup with two round white pills inside. She dumped the contents of the cup into her mouth and cheeked the pills. Turning to the compliance monitor, she opened her mouth and lifted her tongue, copying what she had seen other patients do. He shined a flashlight in her mouth, and after half a second cleared her as good. She then walked through the door on the left and faked a yawn, so she was able to spit the hidden pills out. There was no way she was swallowing whatever drugs they were trying to put her on.
Another ward already seemed to be seated in the cafeteria, and the babble was much louder. She headed over to the food line, figuring it was dinner since an overhead clock told her it was 6:02 pm.
"Well hi ya girlfriend!" drawled a pigtailed, blonde girl in front of her. Her hair was a much lighter shade of blonde than Elena's, and she was wearing the same grey uniform dress, but had unbuttoned it very low. "M' name's Harley, and you're new here ain't you?"
"How'd you know?" Elena asked.
"Well, everybody knows everybody here. We eat with the B's usually, and the A's on weekends. Mah boyfriend, Mistah J, is in A." She assumed A meant Ward A, where all the high security level patients stayed. Charming.
"Nice to meet you," Elena said, smiling.
"Me an' mah friend Ivy, we used to be in A, but then they made 'em all gender separated. Now I can only see mah Pudding on weekends, ain't that sad? I know he misses me."
"Quinzel!" barked an elderly lunch matron.
"Yea, yea Miz B," huffed Harley, who turned around and grabbed her lunch tray. "See ya," she called.
"And who are you?" asked the lunch lady aggressively.
"Elena Moretti," she replied.
"You ain't on the list," the woman said.
"Oh, I'm new here," she explained.
"But you ain't on the list," the woman replied stubbornly. Elena's dinner tray remained empty.
"I'm sure it's just a paperwork mistake."
"I ain't giving you no food if you ain't on the list."
"Is there a problem, Darla?" asked the same dark eyed, dark haired man that had given Elena her meds, walking over.
The old woman, annoyed, gestured to her precious list.
"Oh, I know what's going on," the man said, grinning. "Follow me, Miss Moretti." Elena followed him, still holding her empty dinner tray, through yet another set of doors to a deserted hallway. Once the doors had closed completely, the man turned and stared at her. She could feel his eyes moving up and down along her body, and she knew nothing good was about to happen.
"We haven't been properly introduced," he said. "My name is Jared, but everyone around here calls me Red. Do you know why that is, Elena?"
She hated the slimy way he said her name, but forced herself not to talk back. She shook her head silently.
"Good. Only girls who disobey me know." He stepped towards her menacingly, and she fixed her eyes on the wall ahead to avoid meeting his gaze. "Now, about your meals. A mutual friend of ours has decided that you are to have none. But I'm sure given the right… persuasion he could be made to change his mind," Red said while placing a hand on her waist.
"Hmm, let me think about that," she answered, while using her tray as a shield to push him away. Tilting her head, she responded, "You can go tell Crane to take my tray for all I care and shove it-"
"Oh, but it wasn't Crane," replied Red, ominously.
Falcone, goddammit, she thought, mentally kicking herself. Only Falcone could have found such a sleazy guy to harass her.
Red grabbed her still injured wrist and gripped it tightly as he leaned towards her, but she kicked him squarely in the knee. He toppled over, with a look of pure rage on his face.
"Is there a problem here, Mr. Williams?" asked a familiar voice.
Oh shit.
Elena looked up and saw a smartly dressed Dr. Crane striding down the hallway towards them, his perceptive blue eyes fixed on her.
"Nah boss, just tripped, that's all," lied Red.
"Is that true, Miss Moretti? Did Mr. Williams just," he smirked, "trip?"
"Yeah boss, ain't he klutzy as hell? Perhaps you should let him go."
Fury was written all over Red's face.
She was dead. Very dead.
"Get back to work Williams," ordered Crane, and after shooting her one last glare, Red got up and limped back into the cafeteria. Crane had been running the asylum long enough to know that when Williams was alone with a female patient, he was up to no good. And it was no surprise Williams had jumped at the first opportunity he had to be alone with Moretti, seeing as she was one of the more attractive inmates.
"First day and we're already in trouble, Miss Moretti?"
"Who said I was in trouble?" she said quizzically, tilting her head in mock confusion.
Again he smirked at her, as if he were clued into some joke that she didn't know. "Here," he said, handing her the tray she had dropped on the floor in the confusion. An all knowing half smile appeared on his face.
Oh god, he had heard her comment about him and the tray.
Intelligent as ever, Elena.
"Thanks," she said, without the slightest hint of being embarrassed, and walked back into the cafeteria. She shot a furtive glance at the meal line, but Red was already standing there to prevent her from eating anything.
Her stomach cramped unhappily upon realizing there was no dinner for her today. A calendar on the wall told her it was Monday. Figures.