Chapter 3: The Arkham Asylum

Selina felt her eyes burn at the harsh light of day freshly shining in through the large and curtain-less windows to her left. She had been gazing out the window mindlessly and contemplatively for the entire long and fretful night. Had she not been strapped down securely to the thin and poorly cushioned mattress she laid on, she'd have given another go at escaping her upcoming nightmare.

The feeble and underweight woman in her mid twenties cringed in discomfort at the shifting she felt in her stomach that had been feigning for nourishment for hours upon hours. She hadn't had a bite to eat since the previous day at what could have been noon. She wasn't entirely certain, nor did she care. Her goal remained the same, regardless of Connolly's assertion that she 'would be cured and would be making an effective recovery'. Selina still felt it necessary to mope perpetually. She was doomed to an unwholesome life, that's all there was to it.

She put up just one more teensy fight against her bindings before the lovely and oh so doting Dr. Connolly waltzed into the room with two larger and buff men at her side. She donned a large (and likely fake) smile on her thirty-something flawless face. Selina rolled her eyes at their presence and continued to ruminate a way out of this.

"Good morning, Miss Kyle. I hope you have rested well," the certified woman chimed, much to the restrained woman's scoffing.

"Yeah, beautifully," she deadpanned in return. The two macho's stalked past the shorter doc and got on either side of the bed in which the bound girl laid. Selina felt both her upper and forearms throb lightly in relief once the straps were loosened. Once her legs were released from their previous confinement, she jolted up and off the mattress with plans of successful solace. Of course the six-foot-something men comprised with thick muscles weren't going to allow that. She was grabbed once her size 6 feet hit the floor. The guards had absolutely no difficulty in preventing her escape by merely holding her in place by her upper arms with their firm grasps. Selina knew she could still retaliate by means of verbal disputation.

"Assholes! Lemme' go! You can't do this to me!"

Connolly stepped in closer and faced the troubled woman. "As I have already informed you, Selina, we have no choice. Our city legislation dictates that self-harm cannot go unnoticed by the Federal-"

"Fuck that! I'm not afraid to kill anyone who stands in my way, dammit! I'll do it! Watch me!" she retorted at all three persons in this confined room. Connolly hastily pulled out her communicator and dispatched for more security to make their way down here. This was going to be more tedious than she anticipated.

"Please cooperate, Miss Kyle! I know this seems unfair, but we are only trying to help you," Connolly spoke in a pensive manner, struggling to advise anything that may bring the ill-minded patient comfort. She knew she hadn't coaxed her even a tad when she received a defiant "fuck you!" in return.

Just when the petite woman had nearly thrown what would've been a painful kick at one of the men's nose, two more guards marched in to help the conflicting female calm down. Relief settled within the Doctor's mind when one of the newly arrived guards had a needle with him. A sedative, it had been, which had also been initially contrary to what Selina's physician had wanted, but this situation was getting too far out of hand. She had to be drugged again.

Tears flowed heavily down the Cat's cheeks as she continued to fight. She slowly began to subdue her wild altercation once the needle was penetrated into her upper arm. She fell back into her pillow and her surroundings faded into a blur. Then nothing.

Her first sense upon regaining consciousness was the feeling of light shaking. Her bed had been vibrating lightly. She squirmed around a bit before deciding to open her eyes. As she had presumed, she was strapped down.

Her upper right arm ached where she had been injected earlier. It was done so coarsely that she was sure that the perpetrator had struck a vessel. It throbbed and stung like hell. That didn't matter now, though. She knew that her pleas and bitching would hit indifferent ears. She'd heard the stories about your typical nuthouse. She knew she'd be spending the majority of her time either locked up alone in a room in a straight jacket or strapped down securely to her bed, or she'd be splendidly experiencing group therapy and hearing other depressed chicks vent on about why they have their heart's set on being six feet underground.

She felt the urge to vomit at the pondering of any of it. It seemed to be inevitable now, so what was the point in complaining about it? It appeared this was her fate. She had ultimately chosen to do this, of course not deliberately, but with inadvertent intention. Perhaps this was her key to the life that she was meant to live. Goddamn, she was going on a petty twenty-six years of age; she was too young to give up all of that now.

Her stomach flipped in angst and her heart skipped a few beats once her ride had come to a halt. She growled in frustration when the back doors were pulled open to reveal a huge facility dedicated to the inhibition of mentally insane persons. Little did Selina realize that its purpose was for keeping the criminally insane out of society. She was agape at the labeled sign outside of the ambulance: Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. What the fuck?

"Hey! I am not criminally insane you dolts! I'm just depressed!" Selina retaliated at the blond man who was wheeling her out of the vehicle.

"We now also treat the clinically depressed, miss. And due to your lack of having insurance or health care, we were unable to admit you to the Gerald Palt Mental Institution, but don't worry, you'll be treated well enough here."

Selina scoffed loudly at that promise. Her 'yeah, right' radar blew off the charts. She briefly considered putting up another brawl with these guys who were reeling her into the large brick building painted a dark and gloomy shade of brown. She found that color to suit her depression quite well.

Once they were in from the chilly late-February weather, they put the brakes on in the lobby and undid her bindings. "Just remain calm, ma'am. We're going to check you in with the receptionist and then you'll be assigned a therapist. They'll figure things out for you from there on."

Selina nodded in response at the older brunet and kept her drowsy eyes glued to the tan tiled floor as they led her to the front desk. Behind the counter was a maybe forty-something blonde with a tidy bun and glasses. She smiled at the approaching guards with their newcomer.

"A new patient, Kyle, right?" she inquired delightfully, her tone having irritated Selina. Selina was far from in the mood to deal with any of this right now, or ever. She just wanted everyone to leave her be to do what she wanted. It was her life, not theirs. And now, because she had to scream out at the top of her lungs at around eleven the previous night, her life was going to be run by orderlies.

"Yes, we have the rest of her paperwork right here," stated the blond man. The preppy attitude and seemingly botoxed cheeks of the receptionist also made the troubled inmate-to-be livid. It wasn't just her, however, for lately, anyone with a wide grin on their face who crossed Selina's path got hated on in spite of pure jealousy. She loathed all buoyancy in this miserable state.

"Okay, I just need to call in one of the nurses so she can update the patient's medical records, then that'll be all."

The guards nodded and kept their grasp on the small woman's arms. Some time later, a young, redheaded nurse came their way with a clipboard. She too didn't look distressed, making Selina's insides churn in envy.

"Alright, Selina, just come over here with me so we can get your height and weight, then we'll get you into a room to go through some other medical information."

The guards carefully released her arms and watched her for a little while to make sure she wouldn't try to escape again. She hadn't yet. She obediently yet sluggishly followed the nurse down the hallway comprised of scales, I.V. carts, and shelves filled with extra towels.

Selina weakly stepped onto the scale that her feet hadn't touched in months. Frankly, she just didn't give much of a damn about her weight anymore. The scale read her weight to be 111. She had lost around six or seven pounds since the last time she was weighed. Her height remained the usual 5'3 just like the last time. She was a fully grown adult anyways, so her physical peak would only be gradually shrinking from there over the years.

The years.

Selina cringed like she been doing periodically since the previous night. Her desires remained the same: she didn't want to live to be an old, depressed and ugly woman with a billion cats. She knew she wouldn't be one of the Golden Girls, complacent and enlightened with life at even a ripe age. No, she would be that doleful and cranky old timer who lived in a run-down nursing home, after she hit the age where she was to be considered a senior citizen, after living a good thirty years here at Arkham, of course. She would never be getting out of here until then, she reckoned.

"You're looking healthy, Miss Kyle. A bit underweight, but nothing to worry about yet," the nurse assured, as if Selina would really give a hoot. She shrugged in response and followed her wanna-be doc into a compact and windowless room to the right. She gestured her into the room then told her that a physician would be in shortly. She closed the door and left Selina in solitude.

She scanned the small room thoroughly as to spot anything sharp she could use to commit her current goal, and saw nothing more than two chairs against the wall, a cushioned bed-like seat that patient's used, and a wheeled chair for the doctor to use once inside. Selina's eyes landed on the jar of cotton balls aside the jar of tongue compressors. She grinned deviously to herself.

'Maybe I can just shove a shitload of cotton down my throat and choke to death, but I'd have to be swift before the goddamn doctor arrives-'

Her thoughts were cut off by the sudden and abrupt arrival of a female physician. Selina forced herself to snap out of her suicidal trance and drive her attention to the thirty-something brunette lady in a burgundy knee-length dress with a white coat and name tag labeled: 'Arkham Inst. Physician Patricia Lambert'.

"Hi, I'm Doctor Lambert, but feel free to call me Pat." She looked through her folder briefly before continuing. "I see that you are being admitted here under speculation that you have clinical depression regarding a suicide attempt on February 24 of 2013—last night, and needs to seek further institutionalized treatment for full recovery before your release."

She glanced up and held Selina's bandaged wrists up for closer viewing. "Was last night's infliction your first?" she inquired carefully, seeming to try to give off a gentle approach over a straight-forward and assertive tone.

"Not exactly…" Selina mumbled, with a hint of embarrassment in her tone. Pretty light blue Zooey Deschanel hues met Selina's hazel.

"When did you start cutting?" She asserted more concisely than her last question. Selina looked down at her thighs that currently donned her own black jeans. She smirked slightly out of nervousness and had felt more awkward than she had in quite a while.

"About four years ago, I think."

She heard her doctor sigh lightly at her confession, then heard a pen click followed by quick jotting of information on paper. Selina feared the 'penalty' she would face now. Her sentence would surely be even longer now after that little secret. She wished she would have sugar-coated her answer with exaggeration by complying with a simple "yes".

"Not to worry, Selina. You'll meet plenty of other women here who have depression, and you're even bound to be cured of this illness-"

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before, Patty. Now, y'all can believe whatever the hell ya want, but I know that I'm not going to be feeling any better any time soon." She stopped and exhaled a light yet audible scoff. "You all are wasting your time."

The doctor was a tad dumbfounded by her allegation, but that had most certainly not been the first time she'd heard that old excuse. That's what they all said. They all believed they were incurable, when 90 percent of the time, they really were.

"Denial is not the way to go, Miss Kyle. The first step is acceptance. You need to start thinking positively."

Selina scoffed for the thousandth time that day, and she knew that she wasn't finished 'pssh'ing yet, by the way she was being treated so far. "Kay, if ya say so," she sighed, then stared at the ivory wall to her right, finding that more interesting than this convo.

"We need to address some questions before I send you off to Dr. Frederick's office for counseling. You will also need to put this on." She handed her a folded pair of dark orange pants with a shirt. Selina could feel her face go aflame. She had never felt so insulted by such an expectation.

"You expect me to flaunt this drab around the place? Why can't I just have my own clothes to wear?" She felt the overwhelming urge to chuck her attire across the room to let it collect dust on the carpeted floor.

The doctor frowned slightly and had to think for a moment on how to reply to that blunt statement. "It's standard uniform for patients, Selina. I would allow you to wear your own clothing, had there not been our establishment that indicates otherwise. I'm sorry."

Selina sighed frustratingly. She had not been here for twenty minutes and already she despised the facility with a crisp. The doc seated herself in her spinney chair and crossed one bare leg over the other, bringing her black wedged heel into better view.

"Now, I have some medical questions to go through with you here before I let you go off to Henry's...How is your diet? Do you feel that you do well with what your consume?"

Selina's nearly showing ribs could provide the answer for that, but she decided it best to reply with an overstatement in an attempt to try and leaven these already bad circumstances up. "Yes, I ain't fat, am I?" she declared with a light chuckle at the end. Doc Pat smiled awkwardly in response and scribbled that down.

"Do you or have you ever taken any prescribed drugs or medications?"

"Hmmph, not prescribed, but yeah," she again chortled playfully, trying to show the doc that she was suddenly happy and ready to leave. The physician didn't seem to find that answer amusing judging her fake and half-hearted smile.

"Are you or have you ever smoked?"

"Indeed."

"Are you currently?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Another frown played along the doc's lips as she wrote down her comply. "Do you consume alcohol on a regular basis?"

"Is every freakin' night regular, Patty?"

"Possible alcoholism," Selina heard the woman before her mumble under her breath while jotting that down. Selina didn't believe that she herself was an alcoholic, for she didn't crave it relentlessly like some actual drunkards she had known, though she did enjoy herself a nice tall bottle of chardonnay here and there.

"Is this your first admission to a mental institution?"

Those words struck Selina painfully, like a freight train out of the blue. Mental institution? That just sounded like such a harsh reference. It made her feel insane, and she was not insane.

"...Yes," she grumbled with a hint of anger in her voice. That jotting was also getting on her nerves. How much was she writing down? Just Selina's honest-to-truth answer or was she adding her own little opinions along with it? Did she have the right to do that?

"I think we're through for now, Selina. I'll leave you to get your clothes on. Just leave your old clothes here and I'll take care of it. I'll return in a few minutes-"

She noticed her ill-minded patient eyeballing the jars comprised of cotton and wooden sticks and a nasty premonition crossed her mind. She heard her patient sigh an "awe" once she confiscated the jars as to prevent anything foolish she may have thought about doing. She exited the room and closed the door behind her.

Selina gruffly hopped off her seat and gathered the ugly garbs. She would dearly miss the black tank top and dark denims she was sporting currently. She felt even more uneasy at the realization that they'd likely be thrown away.

She stripped down to her bra and panties and gathered the orange sweatpants that looked at least three sizes too big. Upon unfolding them she saw a pair of folded white underwear and a white sports bra fall out and down to the floor.

She picked up the bra and inspected it. She grimaced when she noticed how worn-out and stained it was. She most certainly wouldn't be letting that apparently used garment touch her bare breasts, not to mention it was also too big. The underwear looked clean, but she couldn't be too sure. Sometimes the underwear pile at Goodwill has some appearing pristine panties, but you don't buy them anyways, just because it's unsanitary and gross.

She placed both undergarments into the trash bin by the counter and got into her plain and boring inmate attire. She stared sorrowfully at the little pile of her own clothing that rested on the carpet. She would never flaunt them again.

A curt knock sounded at the door, then in came Patty. She put on a cheap smile and lied "You look nice, Selina." Selina smirked at that pathetic comment and crossed her arms, just willing to move on forward with whatever this lady had in mind for her.

"Follow me. I'm going to have you meet your therapist, Dr. Henry Frederick, then he'll explain your routine from there on."

The two were out of the room and off towards the elevator then onto the third floor where Dr. Frederick's office was located. "He's a good psychiatrist, Selina. He's been helping out many people over the years."

"Not too young then?" Selina asked imposingly, yet out of pure curiosity.

"Mm, he's somewhere in his fifties."

"Ripe, then. Ah well, he handsome?"

The doctor ignored her question and put forth her statement once they were off the elevator. "Come on, this way." Selina heeled after the doc and then stopped once they reached a room at the end of the hallway. The door was labeled: 'Dr. Henry Frederick' and was closed upon their arrival. Pat knocked twice, then the door was swung open and they were greeted by a tall and broad man with a suit, brown-graying hair and oval glasses. He was tan and admittedly attractive for his age, whatever that be. He warmly smiled and held out a hand towards the crossed armed woman outside his door. She timidly met her palm with his and shook twice along with him.

"Selina Kyle? It's nice to meet you. Dr. Frederick, Arkham's primary psychiatrist. Come inside so we can get started." He backed away and allowed his new patient access inside. Before entering, she shot her physician one more look of ennui then silently cherished the time she'd get to spend alone with her older, yet sexy (in a nerdy way) therapist.

The door was closed and Selina was gestured to take a seat at either the clichéd Freudian sofa in the corner or the seat before his desk. She choose the normal chair, just because that would make her feel almost normal over an actual inmate with psychological issues lying in that typical overly-cushioned bench.

"Let's see here...depression...a highly common disorder nowadays...suicide attempt, just….last night? Mmm, alright...believed to have self-harmed in the past...okay, we've got the basics." He looked up from her file and set it down, then retrieved a notebook and pen. Selina knew where this was headed.

"Our purpose here is to discover where your depression may have stemmed from, if not simply from birth. Are you aware that it is merely a slight chemical imbalance in the brain, and can be successfully treated with medications?"

"No...I've always seen it as more of a soul thing, like I'm upset because it's like my natural charisma or something...And I'm sticking to that belief, by the way."

He nodded and began to note every word she had just spoken. This made Selina feel uncomfortable. "So, do you write down every little syllable that escapes my lips?" she asked with evident accusation in her tone.

He looked up from his note sheet and met his wary patient's flustered stare. "I write down what is necessary in order to help you, Miss Kyle."

"Please, just call me Selina. I'm beginning to feel like a damn teacher…"

He nodded understandingly and wrote that down, unnecessarily in Selina's eyes. She sighed and leaned back into her chair. She was tired, starving, bored, upset in general, and aching everywhere. This was the last thing she wanted to partake in right now.

"How long do you think you have shown signs of depression?"

She met her shrink's dark blue gaze. That inquiry was somewhat of a stumper at first, until she really thought back on it. "Probably since my mother's death when I was eighteen. I was just a huge mess after I lost her."

She crossed her arms and stared at the poster of Albert Einstein behind his desk while he wrote that confession down. "I apologize for asking, but how did she pass on?"

Selina felt that familiar lachrymose upon recalling her mother. She had been a chainsmoker throughout the years, going through what was close to two packs a day. That had really taken a toll on her health, proving that to be official once she was just thirty-eight, after being diagnosed with lung cancer, chronic, too. Selina blamed her excessive smoking on her abusive father's destructive ways on both the girls, even lashing out on her mother all her life. It was true that Winona Curtis was indeed a long-sufferer, and that had ultimately rubbed-off on her daughter, who was here now, being 'treated' for her own evident clinical depression.

"Lung cancer." She waited and nervously picked at her long and paint-chipped nails while he wrote that down, though it seemed exceedingly inessential. "Would you say that your mother was depressed?"

Selina couldn't suppress shooting him a nasty scowl after that audible ponder. "What does my mama have anything to do with this? Leave her out, please."

"I only ask because it is common for depression to run in one's family, and it can easily be passed onto the children of the vic-"

"Okay, maybe she was. I dunno. Couldn't blame her if she was...my dad was an asshole."

Oh, did he take interest in that declaration. "Your father, he was abusive?"

"Pfft, oh yeah, a real motherfucker, sir." Selina felt a bit funny after having put it that way, but at least it was the truth. She'd remember how he was for the rest of her life, and it appeared that these people were going to make sure that she would have quite the longevity.

"Mmm hmm...so, you would describe the relationship with your father as-"

"Utmost bullshit."

"...When is the last time you've seen your father?"

She really had to think back on this one. "Probably when I was sixteen. He took off on my mom and me after they got into a big fight. Never returned."

"Ah, and how has this affected you?"

"What?"

"His departure, how have you felt about it over the last nine or so years?"

"Well...great, actually. I hated the old bastard." Selina involuntarily chuckled at the memories she was recalling at this point. "Never loved either of us, the arrogant prick...always hit and beat my mother, hit me too on occasion...I just hope he's dead now. That's all I can say."

Silence settled in between the two for some time. Dr. Frederick took up the opportunity to jot down most of what she said in his notebook. She was upset with herself for having fessed up that much detail. Marcus Kyle was the last man she ever wanted to think about. He made for a terrible father. It baffled Selina that her sweet and beautiful mother had fallen for such a douche as him. She was nineteen and he was twenty-seven when they met, as her mother had told her years earlier. Aside from her mother being white and father half black and half colombian, they had both differed significantly in personality. She was a courteous sweetheart who waited tables at Denny's for years, and he was a factory worker, and an aggressive one at that. He had a temper on him, and he'd refused to get any help for his obvious issues regarding his easily-pissed-off tendencies. They had never married, for he had never proposed. Selina hinted that he truly did never love or even care about Winona or herself, and that fact hurt alone. She never really had a daddy, and she'd lost the one family member she did have at far too young an age.

"I think we should stop there for today, Selina. You've done well. Now, we need to get you better acquainted with our faculty. You have been assigned to Room 242 on the fourth floor. You have a roommate who you will get to meet here real soon, once we get some more paperwork filled out. She will show you around here, give you a tour of the place. Just wait a moment, please."

Her therapist went through her file and began to scribble away God-knew-what, probably Selina's little depressing memoir that she just recanted. She internally grimaced at the thought of what her roomie would be like. Shudders of discontentment ran down her spine upon the possibility of her being schizophrenic or a lesbian with serial-killing potencies. It wasn't like she would be too normal, for this was a mental ward, you know, for the insane.

"Ah, there's your aid, Erick, right at the door. He'll lead you to your room." He held his hand out. "Have a wonderful first day, Selina. I'll see you again in a couple days." She hastily shook his hand in return, secretly adoring the firmness of it. She also took a mental note of him having not donned a ring on any of his thick, tan fingers. He may have been single...not that that mattered, though, of course.

She stepped back out into the hall and faced her apparent 'aid', Erick. He was tall, a good 6'2, had long, brown hair that was tied back and dark brown eyes. He gave her a crooked grin upon seeing her, finding the young woman attractive in all likelihood. He looked young himself, maybe around twenty-five or so.

"'Ey, so, I'm your, eh, assistant, Erick. I'm like, supposed to guide you around, ya know, and be like, your bodyguard, ya know? Keep you out of harm's way, that sorta thing."

"Um, okay…" Selina found it somewhat insulting that she was assigned an 'aid', like she was really that incapable of fending for herself. Then again, she was suicidal, so that fact proved worthy of her needing an aid, supposedly.

A brief and awkward pause filled the air between the two, before he smirked and smacked his hips with his palms improvisationally. "Well, then, I can escort you to your room now, if you're ready and all."

She nodded indifferently and followed the guy to the elevator for the fourth floor. The ascend up was silent for the most part, except for when he asked her what she was 'in' for. She merely held up her bandaged wrists in response, drawling an "ohh…" out of him in return.

He saluted her a goodbye once she was dropped off at her door. The guy was cute, but he also seemed a tad moronic; a bit too dorky for her tastes. Not to mention she had her thoughts set on her older therapist. She had always liked the older guys anyway, though usually not men that many years her senior. She didn't care, however. If she was going to be locked up in this place for a while, then she figured she might as well have some fun.

She knocked a few times and waited. Nothing, so she knocked again. Something. "Hold on, hold on, damn, I'm coming, geez."

Selina blushed lightly at her apparently abruptness, for it seemed that she was overly persistent with her knocking. The door was opened by a taller blonde girl with thick and wavy hair, blue eyes and a perfect body. She was beautiful, and normal looking. She looked to be a model, really.

"Hey, I'm new here...name's Selina," she spoke awkwardly, receiving a gaudy smile in response. The blonde stepped aside and chimed for her to "come on in."

Selina stepped inside the small room comprised of not much more than two twin beds on either side of the room, one large and barred window about four feet above Selina's head and a few dressers. Really, this dorm was waaay too small for two people. The Cat couldn't help but feel claustrophobic.

Her bubbly roomie plopped down onto her bed to the left side of the closet-like room. "Welcome to hell," greeted the blonde. "Name's Britney Plathex. In for falsely accused murder of some stoner that just-so-happened to be attending a party that I was at. S'pose I was in his fuckin' vicinity for awhile, people thought I had something going on with the man. Wanna know how he kicked the bucket that night? He was found behind a dumpster four blocks from my old apartment, his eyes cut out, clothes missing, and the hugest dildo ya've ever seen shoved deep up his ass. I think some gang members had some nasty beef with the fella myself, but the justice pigs looked into my records from school, and the trouble I've gotten into over the years, like late teens to early twenties, ya know. I'm twenty-four now, by the way, and I'll get into those deets later. So, they like, prosecute me, and I didn't do shit to the guy! Like I said, barely knew 'im. I don't even think I fucked the guy, and yet, here I am in the slumly ward for the insane, which I am not, despite my 'diagnoses' of schizophrenia….and Bipolar, and DID, depression, seasonal affective disorder, then to top all that off, I'm the biggest sociopath you'll ever meet."

Selina stood a few feet away in befuddlement. That was quite a shitload to take in, and yet, Selina found this woman's blatant honesty to be astonishing. It had been awhile since knowing someone that blunt with their chronicles, that being the deceased Pamela Isley.

To add on to Selina's amazement, her new roommate snatched a Marlboro out from a box underneath her mattress and lit it up with a soft pink lighter. She puffed a large gush of smoke at the baffled Cat's face and smirked deviously, then tossing a smoke and the lighter her way.

"Your turn."

A/N: Thank you Wilhelm Wigworthy for reviewing :)

And so the story escalates. Selina's journey in the world of insanity and paranoia begins, as well as a J Crane appearance coming up soon. In the meantime, I would like to hear your thoughts on the story as well.