My parents didn't even attend my trial. I'm their only child and they didn't even bother to go. Okay, sure. Maybe I'm now a disgrace, but still. I'm their flesh and blood. So now I walk into Arkham Asylum in Gotham City entirely alone in the world. An orphan. With no family to care about me and no friends to even remember me. Of course, it is easy to forget someone who's been gone for four years. I've been living by my own rules and now I just have to let society drones parade me through their little routine. Search. Paperwork. Health inspection. Then I'm placed in a room that has a bed, toilet, window covered with bars, and a rather obvious two-way mirror. I've been told that this is only a temporary room. There's probably shrinks on the other side evaluating me, writing down my every movement. What am I even expected to do? I sit on the bed and just stare into the mirror, hoping a doctor has their eyes locked on mine.

An hour passes. A day passes. A week, month, or eternity passes. Or maybe just a minute. I wouldn't know. But the doctors would. Which is why at some point one of the white coats comes into the room. Her hair is about a foot tall and her eyeliner isn't nearly close enough to her eyes. She looks like an alien.

"Hello Darcy, I'm Doctor Nolin." Pause. "As a new patient I'm here to interview you, get to know you a little better, so we can make your experience here at Arkham a pleasant and successful one." She smiles. So fake. And then she begins with boring questions about my family, things I like, things I don't, that sort of thing. Then she asks me something that surprises me. "Could you describe for me what actions have sent you here?" How can that be one of the normal questions? I can just imagine some of the loonies going crazy at this. Maybe even offering to demonstrate. But hey, a question's a question and I'm going to answer it. Full cooperation and maybe I'll get out of here some day.

Generic answer. "Yes. Well. I was tired of it all." More insight. "Robots. Boring routine. Wasted life." Opening statement. "It feels good to live by your own rules." The warning. "And I don't really like you." And now my rise to action. I leap at Doctor Nolin and pull on her hair. She screams and guards have already run into the room. I twist her hair around my left hand and still manage to kick her a bit as the guards pull me off of her. Okay, my good behavior can start up later. What fun is life without a little risk? Once another doctor helps her out of the room, one of the guards lets go of me and stands up. The other guard and I are still on the floor, him holding onto me tighter than a lover. And the other guard winds his leg back and kicks me. Again and again. And I can do nothing.

"Teach you a lesson," he huffs as he continues kicking me over and over again. Then when I'm sure my body's just going to turn into goo he leans down and pulls me up by the hair. I gasp out in pain and stared wide-eyed at him. "Welcome to Arkham."

After my welcoming, the guard who was holding me escorts me to my cell – likes it's more of a prison than a place to get rehabilitated. Then again, I am in the more criminal unit. The whole time he has one hand clenched around my right arm. All of these guards are in full-riot gear. Maybe there's always a riot. But behind every door, in every corner, is a guard. And they all look the same: all black. Black pants, shirt, and boots. And a helmet covering their heads. All I can ever really see of these guards are their eyes and all of their eyes look black from the shadows. They could all be clones for all I can see. Finally we enter a larger hallway that has a catwalk above it and cells all around. All of them with thick walls and bars for the doors. I finally get drug to a nothing-special-about-it cell that already has somebody in it. Without saying a word, the guard just throws me in and locks the door. No explanation. Nothing. And he just walks off. I feel so welcome.

"Hi there!" says the other person in the cell. She's a skinny, blond woman. "I'm Harley! Welcome to the asylum. As a part of the adapting process you get me: your guide." Then she beams at me. "So what's your name?"

"Darcy."

"Oooh Darcy. I like that! Too bad ya got here so late, though. It's just about time for lights out."

"How can you tell?"

"Internal body-clock, I dunno. But you can always tell when the next something's gonna happen, because the guards swarm more than usual."

"Mmm hmm. And do you know exactly what time lights out is?"

"Well it's been a couple-uh years since I worked here, but it used to be eleven o'clock in the Intensive Treatment."

"You worked here?"

"Yup, I was a regular ol' white coat...'til I met Mistah J." Suddenly her whole demeanor changed. I felt like if I got close to Harley she would burn me from the...fire...burning in her heart that made me think of someone melting. And her eyes...it was a strange look seeing that pure love. Everything about her screamed "I'm crazy about him!" And suddenly, for the first time today, an emotion other than anger and angst found its way into my being...jealousy. Longing.

"And how does he feel about you being locked up in here?"

"Don'tcha know who my puddin' is? Jeez you must really be outta the loop."

"Well, maybe if you told me his name I might recognize it."

"The Joker."

"That's not a name."

"Well it's what my puddin' goes by. He ain't got another name."

"And either way, I'm not exactly sure who he is. That title seems familiar."

"You crazy?! My puddin's famous!"

"Meh. Maybe famous to you. Maybe famous here. But I'm not from Gotham and I never really kept up with the news, other than my own. That's about it."

Harley looked thoughtful for a minute before leaping up to the top bed. Didn't matter to me where I slept. I sat down on my bed with my legs hugged to myself and my back to the rough wall. I could tell that Harley doing something, but I didn't really care what. I don't know for how long I sat before there was suddenly darkness. Well, not total darkness; no light in the actual cell, but a dim light was still visible from where the guards were keeping watch. At that point I decided to lay down. I couldn't imagine sleeping here, but what could I do? This place was horrifying and I had no clue if Harley would try to kill me in the night. But that wouldn't be all too bad, considering that I was already in Hell. Reluctantly I relaxed my body and slowly let everything fade away until there was nothing left but the darkness that seemed to eat time.