Chapter 1

Her eyes flickered across the papers behind thick glasses, chewing her cracked lips and mumbling random words beneath her breath. I sat in an uncomfortable chair just across from her, lightly tapping my heel in anticipation and waiting for a response. The plucky woman finally set the papers down and smiled at me, blinking her grey eyes abnormally. Why are you so weird?

"You like working night shift?" She proposed. Her cheerleader voice was just was awkward as her fluttery lashes.

"I mean, I've never done it before." I admitted with a shrug.

She nodded her head slowly before pushing her lilac sleeves to her elbows. "We really need someone for nights." The lady spoke in a sing song voice.

I felt my eyes widen in annoyance, quickly trying to hide it with a smile as I noticed her stare. "I'm up for anything." I grinned to her, remembering that I really just needed a goddamn job.

"That's wonderful, Ms. Thorne." She straightened up, smoothing down her blonde ponytail. "I just need to ask a few questions."

I watched her pull out a red folder from her dingy file cabinet, flipping through the papers and occasionally licking her finger. Finally, she pulled out a sheet and smoothed it out on a clipboard before clicking a blue pen. I stared out the window, watching the snow fall onto the branches gracefully. Winter was always my favorite season.

"Do you have children?"

I gasped, a little startled by her voice. "Oh no." I smiled, wondering why she would ask me something like that.

"Are you married?"

"No."

"Do you have any close family in Gotham?"

"…No." I raised my eyebrow. "I didn't realize these questions pertained to my nursing career."

The woman tilted her head and smiled. "Just routine questions."

Routine questions?

I shut the door behind me after wrapping up my final words with the strange interviewer, one hundred percent sure that the job was lost to me. I breathed in cold air and released, listening to my heels click onto the snow covered side walk. My hair blew in front of my face slowly, tickling the pink end of my nose. I sighed calmly, loving the way the white snow contrasted with my coal colored strands. Yes, winter suited me well; Oversized sweaters to hide my body and plenty of reasons to stay inside with a good cup of coffee and a hot bowl of chili. I couldn't deny it.

A jingle began to play as I passed an alley, giving me a bit of a scare before I fumbled through my pocketed sweater to answer the call.

"This is Mira." I answered.

"Hello Ms. Thorne! Would you mind coming in tonight at nine?" I recognized the woman's voice from the office.

"You want me to come back to the office?" I asked, bewildered by the request.

"We've decided that we would like to hire you for the position. If you would please come to Arkham, we can proceed with the process."

There was a pause, then a dial tone.

The mysterious interview intrigued me. Had I thought logically, I would have backed out. Something in the pit of my stomach bothered me, telling me that I was safer in the comfort of a coffee shop or a supermarket. However, I had not gone into the field to squander my education and resort to serving customers on their own time. I desired a challenge. Everything about my life prior to moving was unbearably lackluster, despite the losses and bridges I burned beforehand.

I awoke from an unfulfilling nap, throwing my blanket to the side and glancing at the red numbers on the clock before trudging over to my dresser. I pulled out some green scrubs I had acquired from my last job, stripping off my old clothes and slipping the new ones over my head. They were a little bigger than they used to be, probably due to my poor eating habits.

With a sigh, I started brushing my hair and realized that my reflection was a complete mess. I fell back onto the bed and lazily braided my hair, throwing the black fishtail over my left shoulder and slipping on some tennis shoes and a college sweater. Half of me told myself I still had another chance to stay, but I pushed that thought away and headed out the apartment door, locking it behind me.

When I arrived to Arkham, I realized I was actually ten minutes late. I groaned as I stepped out of the car, locking it up behind me and hurrying to the dark doors. It took me a few moments to locate the proper entrance, as the night was black and so were the walls of the asylum. Not only that, but here were no sounds from the outside, not even the sound of crickets.

Frustrated and cold, I turned around to search for a sign of life to let me in. That was when I heard the creaking.

"What…" I whispered.

The large doors had opened, and then I saw the lights flicker on.

"Shit." I said.

I stepped inside cautiously, greeted by the same woman conducting my interview. She wore pink scrubs, with her straw like hair tied into a ballerina bun and a fake smile wiped across her face. I hurried inside, reeling from the frigid air.

"Thank you for coming, Ms. Thorne." I walked beside her down the short hall, approaching an elevator.

"Are we the only people here?" I shuddered, taking note of the empty check in desk. For the most part, everything seemed pretty kosher. Fliers urging alcoholics to attend meetings were pinned on boards, as well as childlike paintings with the words 'hope' and 'strength' scribbled upon them.

"The patients are downstairs." She chirped. "We have gone through some renovations; making the place a little less…dreary."

"Oh." I nodded my head, watching her bony finger push the button.

She put her hands on her hips. "However, this is an asylum. I suppose no matter what color you paint it, it won't change the fact that we house some of the most insane subjects known to man."

I widened my eyes, shocked at her sudden change of tone. She was like a soccer mom who used to be a college cheerleader in her day, retaining her prime day enthusiasm, but finding new anxieties as her days passed. Maybe she enjoyed working here. Maybe taking care of the crazies and handling business at the asylum was one of her dark pleasures. I wondered if she had children or not. Somehow I could see her children being embarrassed by her odd demeanor.

When the doors opened, I observed how drastic everything changed. Instead of the kid friendly area I had seen prior, I was led down a dingy hallway with flickering lights.

"I reckon the renovations didn't include a change of lights." I quipped. She ignored me. I hated being ignored.

We stopped at a door with a gold sign that read "Lab." She opened it with a silver key, allowing me to enter before shutting it behind her. When she turned on the lights, I noticed that they thankfully didn't flicker like the others. I sat down on one of the black rolling chairs, childishly giving one turn around the lab.

She pulled out a thick needle from the drawer, sticking it into a jar full of clear substance and pulling back the syringe. "At ten PM, we administer a dose of natural medicines to the patients in order to put them to sleep. About thirty minutes after that, we do our rounds."

"Natural medicines?" I inquired.

"Arkham has committed itself to the use of natural medicines. There are exceptions, of course."

I sighed deeply and nodded in understanding. "I will be safe, won't I?" The name tag on her scrubs glistened, complete with her perky picture and name, "Jessica Sterling."

"There are risks, but our patient restraints are efficient as well as the drugs." She gave me a cheeky grin, pulling out another syringe. "Besides, this is why you will be getting paid well. The risk of the job and your confidentiality agreement are worth an exceptional amount alone. When you top that off with your education and flexibility, you make for a worthy employee."

I smirked awkwardly, happy about the compliment but a little uneasy too. By the time Jessica was finished with the syringes, she placed them on a silver tray next to some cotton swabs and rubbing alcohol on a blue cart. I noticed the syringes had labels on them, probably according to the patient they were administered to. Funny, I don't remember pre-drawing medicine beforehand, but I reckon there were a lot of strange things that I had yet to encounter.

"So where are you from originally?" Jessica asked as we walked out of the lab with the cart.

"South Dakota." I answered quietly. "I was raised in Sioux City."

She flipped up a cover to reveal a set of buttons, punching in a code. "So are you Native American? Your features suggest it."

I shook my head, not surprised by the common question. "My mom was Mexican-American. My dad was from Canada."

Jessica laughed as she cracked open the door. "Quite diverse."

I stood by the cart quietly, waiting for her to proceed through the door. Instead, Jessica looked at me with lingering eyes. Finally I asked, "Are you coming?"

She smiled, looking down at the cart before meeting my eyes. "The patients are quite perturbed by my presence. Which is why, we've acquired a skilled nurse who already knows how to perform." Jessica leaned in closely with a giggle. "They call me the Jester."

My eyebrow couldn't raise itself any higher. She laughed at my confusion, and handed me a folder. "This contains all of the information you need." Jessica pointed to a door across from the lab. "The office is in there, where you can watch the patients in each of their cells on video. You can read and even watch a movie as long as you make sure your rounds are finished."

"So I'm just babysitting." I said flatly.

"I think you'll enjoy it." Jessica tilted her head with a grin. "Just start at the beginning of the hall and work your way down, follow the charts."

I watched Jessica trot to the elevator. She entered, spinning on her heel and waving to me before the doors closed.

"Some orientation." I sighed before turning to the cart and pushing through the door.

Metal doors with tiny windows made up the long hallway. When I listened closely, I could hear the muffled words of patients talking to themselves. No, that was impossible. I surely couldn't hear them through the heavy doors? Maybe the sense of the hospital was already turning my brains inside out.

The lights continued to flicker, but I soon got used to it. The adrenaline pumped through my veins as I tightened my fist around the cart, thrilled and terrified. I caught the scent of danger and I loved it. Yes, I can think logically and understand that this could get me injured, but I also understood how much I loved it.

Where should I start?

I pulled off my sweater and shoved it in the bottom of the cart. The numbers and names on the syringes coincided with the patients in each cell, making it quite easy to begin. "Cell # 1, N. Marks."

Nathan Marks was only eighteen, and seemingly scared out of his mind. His gingery hair curled at the nape of his pale neck, and I could see his body shake beneath a pair of dirty scrubs. The young man sat on his cot, looking straight ahead. Hands and feet were restrained by sturdy leather attached to the wall, giving him access to the toilet positioned just a few feet from his cot.

"Hello, Nathan. I'm Nurse Thorne, I'll be checking up on you tonight."

He glanced over and acknowledged me before sticking his arm out. The kid knew what was coming, and I decided to take advantage of his cooperation. I quickly, but gently, held his arm and pushed the drugs through his vein. After dabbing his arm with the cotton swab, I pushed two fingers to his wrist to check his heart rate.

"You seem cold. I can check for another blanket in the office."

Nathan ignored me. Truth be told, I had no idea if there would be a blanket in the office, but I wanted to be nice. Then again, this kid was probably playing me pretty good considering he was locked up here in the first place. I decided to leave it alone, and shut the door behind me with a sigh. Nathan was a bit of an underwhelming case. He made me feel somewhat depressed, and I started to hope for a patient to serve as a pick me up. I understood they were patients and not here to entertain me, but I missed the care and bonding. Strange to say, I missed some of the old hacks at my previous job.

The next syringe was full of a darker liquid, and I wondered if this patient was too insane for the natural medicines Arkham swore by. I checked the notes and charts that Jessica left, and noted a particular message about patient number two. My chest tightened.

"Do not engage in heavy conversation with patient #2."

Well that was short and sweet. I picked up the syringe to see who I wouldn't be talking to tonight.

"Patient #2, J. Crane. Oh, I should have known."

Maybe he's asleep.

I fumbled with the key to his room and opened the door slowly, letting out an overdramatic creak. Slowly, I pushed the cart in and saw a thin man of average height. He was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling with eyes seemingly made of the purest crystal. I sighed, picking up the syringe and reminding myself not to engage in conversation.

Talk to him, Mira. He's cuter in person.

Dr. Crane didn't size up to the reputation I read about online. The only thing intimidating about him was the overall general look in his face. I couldn't read him, but I knew he was dangerous either way. Part of me thought I could take him in hand to hand combat if it came to it, seeing how underwhelming his body appeared as he stretched slyly over the sheets. Still, he was cute.

I watched his pouty lips turn into a grin, and then his eyes inched up and down my body "Where's the blonde?" Crane inquired in a smooth, flawless voice.

To speak or not to speak?

I grabbed his arm gently, just like I did with Nathan. Crane did have pretty limbs, with no signs of drug use or self inflicted scars. They were a simple and untainted color, with nicely hydrated veins. After I injected the needle into his skin, my eyes wandered to his lips to see them part slightly. Quickly, I finished with the dosage and grabbed a cotton swab to clean up the blood seeping from the prick. The sooner I was finished, the better. Something about him was a little much for me. His confident silence was disturbing.

"At least tell me your name." He requested, still resting in the same position.

I hesitated, keeping my eyes away from his face and turning back to the cart.

"Mira Thorne."