Hi there everyone~!

This is my first Batman fanfic so please be gentle.

I came up with this idea a few days back and haven't been able to get it out of my head, so here it is. I hope you all enjoy it since I had fun writing it.

I have a few chapters planned out, but for the most part I'll be writing on a whim. Enough of my mindless babble, please enjoy the story!

The Classified Files of Patient #17285

Prologue: Patient #17285

I am patient here at Arkham Asylum, home of the crazies of Gotham. Inside you'll find some of the most notorious serial killers whose minds are too far gone to save, men and women just like you and me who have fallen victim to the confines of their thoughts, and sadistic villains who would like nothing more then to watch the world burn. Most importantly however, you'll find some of the most intelligent minds to ever grace the city's underground within the walls of Arkham Asylum. I would like to tell you that I am a member of the last group, hell even the first would make me seem at least remotely interesting, but sadly I belong to neither category. I in fact, am part of the, 'I-don't-belong-here-you've-got-the-wrong-man' group, but then again I suppose everyone here believes that, at least most do. I'm different though, honest I am! I've never killed a man nor robbed a bank; stolen priceless jewels or even shoplifted for that matter. I admit I've cheated on a test or two, but really who hasn't?

I don't expect you to believe me though, no ones else does. Even the rest of the patients here think there's something wrong with me. I suppose though, with the amount of drugs I've taken during my stay here, I might as well have loosened up a few screws if you know what I mean. We're getting off track. The point is that I, patient #17285, do not belong within the white walls of Arkham Asylum.

What's that? You want to know my name? I don't think it's really important, but if you absolutely have to know everything, (like a certain patient I know) I'll tell you. My name is Rachel Ann Dawson; sounds pretty average doesn't it? I think it fits me perfectly since I'm a pretty average girl myself; at least I was anyway. For some reason, being thrown in Arkham escalates your popularity by ten fold.

I was a nobody, a face in the crowd at the prestigious Gotham University. I know what you're thinking; the people who named it had absolutely no creativity right? I'd have to agree with you. Anyway we're getting off point here again. I was just another student studying to become an actress. You know when you're little you have those careers set in your mind that you usually grow out of for one reason or another, like a fireman, a veterinarian, pop star, or an actress? Yeah, I never grew out of it, it just seemed to fit you know? Well while I attended Gotham U. I had a few people I talked to, they weren't so much friends as they were acquaintances, but I was never part of the popular crowd to begin with, even in high school. Now what you have to understand about theatre classes is that it's pretty much one big clique. You either fit in or you didn't, you were either noticed or you weren't. I was part of the last group obviously. People knew who I was, but never really paid me any mind. Now however, as soon as word got out I was in with the crazies, hell I might as well have been the talk of the town. Everyone wanted to know what I had done or what was wrong with me, and when no one could quite come up with an answer, they made things up. Apparently I had robbed a bank (because it was so cliché it had to be true right?)and butchered several innocents, using their blood to leave frightening messages on the wall; all under the name 'Knife Point'. It didn't seem to matter to them that killing people and robbing a bank would leave me in prison, not so much an asylum. Whatever, it wasn't like I could stop the rumors from spreading in here right?

Knife Point. The very name made me shiver. I hated knives, always had and probably always would. There was just something about them that made my skin crawl. Perhaps it was the way they looked when slowly ripping through thin human skin? Or maybe it was the thought of something so simple ending your life. Either way, knives just made me uncomfortable. You had to get up close and personal with someone to kill them with a knife. You had to feel the resistance that the muscle would create when stabbing someone, watch the life leave their eyes. For some that was half the fun, but for me that was just too much. How they came up with the name Knife Point was beyond me.

So I bet you're wondering how I ended up here, the real reason anyhow. I promise you it's nothing spectacular like what the rumors might say. To understand the reason I got put in here, you have to know my family. My family consists of my father, mother, and myself; no brothers, no sisters, not even a pet goldfish. The thing about my family is that they're all a bunch of good guys. What I mean by this is that they always stand on the side of good and what is morally correct. My mother was a lawyer, my father, a cop. They practically worship the air that Batman glides through. When reading the Harry Potter books, they stood on the Gryffindor side one hundred percent. During Disney movies they rooted for the good guys, no questions asked. They never once gave a bad guy a second glance, never read a book where evil was questioned to be right, and heaven forbid they ever feel pity for how the bad guys became bad. My parents were the picture of justice, the essence of what was right, and the model citizens that would call the cops if they even suspected you were doing drugs or keeping a pet that wasn't licensed.

I was the complete opposite. I was the notorious 'Slytherin' in my family, the one who always cheered on the bad guys. For some reason or another I was always attracted to them, drawn to their presence and awed by their motives. Did you ever notice that the bad guys usually had the most detailed history and the most characterization? I did. Now I'm not talking about your everyday, run of the mill bad guy who put a gun to your head and demanded your wallet. I'm talking about the ones with history, the ones who were wrongfully cast aside from the rest of society because they were different; the ones who more often then not ended up in Arkham Asylum. Funny how fate likes to play with you isn't it?

Now I'm not saying I wanted to be a bad guy. I was perfectly happy with my normal life, if not a little bored with it. I just found what many considered evil to be highly fascinating. Maybe I should have studied to become a Psychologist. Oh well, too late for that now.

This is where we come to the conclusion of my thrilling tale. You see I liked to draw; I'm that good though, I'd say I'm decent if anything. I kept these sketch books with drawings of all the famous villains in Arkham, you name one and I probably drew it. I had pictures of them doing their thing, you know robbing, killing, blowing things up; all that fun stuff. Of course I kept them hidden, there was no way I was going to let my parents find them. I even had back up sketch books full of flowers and angels just for that reason. In my 'secret stash' there were also notebooks that contained my musings and various theories about the many villains that I adored. I even went so far as to make my own stories where my character was an evil super villain who struck fear into the hearts of Gotham with nothing but her wit and a single knife (something I added so no one would think it was me).

Huh...maybe that's where the name Knife Point may have come from.

Come to think of it; it did sort of have a nice ring to it.

Of course all my drawings, theories, and stories were just for fun, a creative outlet of sorts. I never meant any harm by them.

My parents thought otherwise.

Yup, that's right, they found the stash and boy were they surprised. I never did find out how they found it, only that when I came home from classes one day I found my entire collection sitting on the coffee table in the front room. My parents were waiting patiently on the couch just behind it, and in their hands was the slip of paper that would condemn me to the life that I now lived. The consent form already signed that officially committed me to Arkham Asylum.

Oh yeah, my parents loved me. I could just feel the love radiate from them in waves.

They didn't even give me a chance to defend myself! The next minute the men in white coats arrived and strapped me up to a rather uncomfortable dolly like contraption and there I went. Next stop Arkham Asylum.

My parents didn't even shed a tear.

So there I was a patient in one of Gothams most renowned facilities. I told the doctors, guards, therapists, anyone that would listen that I wasn't crazy, that there was nothing wrong with me! They must have heard that about a million times by now, and so like the others, they paid me no mind.

The therapists thought that I idolized the darkness in mankind and that I desired to become one of them; something about my life not having enough excitement or whatever. They said that I just lacked the attention I needed as a child.

Is it just me, or does every therapist think that the root of all your problems stems from your childhood?

Anyway, I guess that's just about everything there is to know about how I ended up here in Arkham. There's more of my story to tell, but for now I'll leave you with this.

I will tell you though that I've made a few friends here at Arkham, friends with the very people I've dreamed about meeting for years.

Maybe the doctors were right. Maybe I did idolize the villains of Gotham.

I'll tell you one thing though; the doctors here aren't as smart as they think they are. Why would you put a person who idolizes notorious super villains in with said super villains. Isn't that like dropping a fresh fruit into a basket of rotten ones?

Wouldn't that only cause the patient to get worse?

I think it did.

So that's the prologue. I should be posting the first actual chapter later tonight or so.

Let me know if you liked it and review! More then likely if I get more reviews I'll get the chapters out faster.
Critiques are loved, flames not so much.

If at any point you have an idea for the story or have something you would like to happen go ahead and suggest it. I already have an idea for the end however.

I'm also thinking about having the Riddler post a riddle at the end of each chapter and have you, the lovely readers, figure it out. Google and other search engines are not allowed, though I can't very well watch you and make sure can I?

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it! Don't forget to review~!