Disclaimer: Batman and everything related to him belongs to DC. This unfortunate lady, however, belongs to me.

A/N: I finally dusted this off and posted it. Tell me if it's rushed, because writing someone's downward spiral can be difficult. Heaven knows I'll probably revise this dozens of times before I'm completely happy with it. Reviews and constructive criticism are given a hot cup of tea and cuddled.

-:-

Day 1

I wonder if he'll kill me soon. He probably will.

Jesus, I can't believe I was so stupid! Walking those sketchy streets at night, I was probably begging to be killed. Or kidnapped, as it were.

Damn, this floor is nasty. What is that grit? Is… is that blood? Best move away from that. Diseases and such.

I sigh. I guess there's nothing left to do but wait.

Day 2

I wonder if anyone's missed me yet.

Probably just Goliath. That poor cat hasn't been fed today. Jeez, he's probably going to starve.

I stare up at the ceiling and think.

I… I wish I had done all those things I said I would. I wish I took that road trip when I had the chance.

Wait. Is that all my life is? Nobody will truly miss me but my cat? I'm twenty five and don't have a boyfriend. I've never gotten drunk. I've… I've never done anything.

That's just sad.

Day 3

I… I can't believe I was so stupid. I've spent all my life alone. I never took a chance.

God! If only I could get out of here! Everything is so clear now. I was barely living, repeating the same old routine every day.

If I could just leave, I could start my life over!

I just need to get out of here!

:-:-:

I bang my head against the wall.

Anger threatens to boil over inside of me, but just when it morphs into blind rage, depression forces it down and leaves me wallowing in tears.

Hours pass by and my sleeping schedule is erratic. I've lost count of the days because there are no windows here.

:-:-:

This room is so… dirty.

And I'm all alone.

All alone in a dirty room.

Why hasn't he come to see me yet?

Water and food are quickly shoved through a slot at the bottom of the door sometimes, but I haven't seen or heard another human being since my arrival.

I really wish I had someone to talk to.

:-:-:

The fact that I could start everything over again nags at my brain. Why couldn't I have this revelation before?

I pull at my hair in frustration.

:-:-:

I think I've been here for weeks. Months? Was… was I ever not here?

Something inside my brain is screaming. (Don't let go! Don't let it slip! Remember!)

But what am I supposed to remember? My head begins to ache and I push away the voice that is still yelling.

:-:-:

I trace patterns on the grimy floor with my fingers or my eyes to pass the time. This one looks like Goliath, my cat. Such a pretty kitty, he was.

I suddenly remember that no one knows to feed him. I imagine him dead and decaying. I cry.

:-:-:

I start drawing on the floor again. I draw Goliath between two trees.

Then he starts to move and purr, just like the real Goliath. I reach out with my fingers to see if it feels like Goliath, too. But all my fingers feel is the dirt and dried blood.

I blink. Goliath is gone. Just a rough sketch of a cat.

Am I going crazy?

There is a whisper in my mind.

(Don't let it slip…)

:-:-:

Good Lord, this floor is so dirty.

I use my thumb to clear a small area in the grime. There. A clean spot.

My thumb tingles. What is that feeling? I haven't felt in so long. I went numb a while ago.

What made me go numb? Was it anger at my stupidity? Hold on. What was I angry at?

Things are getting jumbled up in my head.

:-:-:

I jump. There he is again!

I keep getting glimpses of him. Flashes of his orange fur. A tail. A paw.

Is it wrong to see him?

(Not there! Not there!)

At first Goliath scared me. It's sort of comforting now.

:-:-:

I wonder where all the cups go. The water I drink comes in cups. Does He come in when I'm asleep to take them away? Why doesn't He talk to me?

I haven't seen or heard or felt a person in such a long time.

Where do those cups go?

I consult Goliath. He comes and goes now.

:-:-:

I wait, crouched by the door. It's almost time. The slot is opened.

It is time.

I watch a piece of bread get pushed through the hole. I lunge. I try to grasp at something beyond the hole.

There is pain. Pain.

Such a strong feeling. I savor it. The shockwaves it sends up my arm and the wakeup call it gives my brain are glorious.

Goliath was right.

I skid back to the far wall and cradle my left hand. The fresh blood oozes out of the backs of my fingers. The color is so vibrant. So red.

Goliath appears.

I dip my right thumb in the blood and draw a smile on his face. A smile I vaguely recognize.

Now Goliath is always happy.

I smile.

:-:-:

Nothing has changed. This room is still dirty. Goliath is almost always with me now.

The red has stopped flowing. I'm sad. I can't draw any more hap- hap- happy Goliaths.

:-:-:

This room is so dirty.

It is obnoxious.

Goliath rubs against the floor, mewing loudly. I meow in response.

He looks at me, and I then I realize that he knows. He knows everything. (…knows nothing…)

I stand quickly. I fall to my hands and knees, sending small bits of that wonderful pain through my limbs. I crawl until I'm face to face with Goliath.

He meows in question.

I screech in response.

Please tell me. Please, please tell me. Everything. Tell me everything.

(There is nothing to tell. There is nothing there!) Something says inside of me. I ignore it and forget about it. I look at Goliath again.

What do I want?

I want the red. And the clean. This room is disgusting. I scrunch up my face as I look at the floor. I glance back up at Goliath.

He looks into my eyes. Into my soul.

He looks at the floor.

Oh. I know what to do. I can get both.

I yell and scratch and rub at the floor. I get rid of the dirt. And the pain comes in larger waves as my nails break.

And…

Oh, glory.

The red.

It comes with crippling blasts of pain. I collapse onto my back, cackling.

I cackle and I scream.

And then somewhere, beyond the door, there is laughter. A harsh sound that grazes my ears.

I freeze.

A sound. A real human sound.

Goliath meows happily.

My breathing accelerates, tears in my eyes. I scream to provoke the sound again. My voice cracks from lack of use.

Another laugh.

Goliath has a smile again. It's all drippy. It's dripping the red.

I breathe so fast I choke on my air.

I can't express my joy. My pure white bliss that grips my heart in an iron hold.

Goliath purrs.

How can I? I ask. How can I release the grip? How can make the laugh come again? Oh, yes. I see.

I smile.

I smile and scream and laugh and cry. I throw myself up against the walls.

(Stop! Stopstopstop!)

It brings pain and the red and relieves the hold on my heart. The sound coming from my mouth is loud in the small room.

I collapse in the middle of the floor, nearly exhausted.

The door opens with a squeak. I look up.

The hunched silhouette of an angel stands there, cackling.

Then there is a twitch in my brain. An image of the man who took me that night and threw me down the hole. I open my mouth to protest something, but I quickly forget what it is. All that matters is the angel that has saved me. (Angel of Death), something inside me corrects, (Angel of Insanity). I push the something down.

There is a crash. My Angel (Death. Insanity.) looks away. I feel we have little time left. I leap to my feet and violently throw myself at my savior.

And…

I feel skin and leather and cloth and makeup. I see light and purple, almost as beautiful as the red. I hear laughter, breathing, the beating of a heart.

I look into my angel's face. Into dark pits, teaming with death and blood and laughter.

He smiles.

I smile.

-:-

He watches from the rooftops as the woman is carried screaming and laughing out of the warehouse, covered in blood and fingernails gone. Batman looks down in revulsion at the sack of giggling purple at his feet.

"What did you do?" he growls.

"Sssssimple. I plucked someone from their boring life, and left her to her thoughts. I showed her the light. I showed her how to improve her life."

He pauses and stares at the Bat.

"And then… and then I took away the opportunity to make that improvement. I simply… gave her a push!"

Batman picks the Joker up by the collar and starts towards Arkham as the clown's words dissolve into laughter.