While I realize that I have two unfinished fanfictions, I wanted to finally start on the revision of my first Batman story. The original was too fast, too short, and too simple. This time around I want to develop the story more and go into other characters besides my OC.

In a cold, damp cell, a woman sleeps; blissfully unaware of the trauma she's caused or the lives she's ruined. It may seem impossible, but she can't really recall the amount of time that had passed. It's happened before, for a few minutes, a few hours even, but this was so much longer than normal .

That's why, when she woke up, confused and scared in this new environment, she stopped to take a breath. Stress wasn't good for her. She knew that if she got too upset, she would just black out and not know when she'd wake up again.

"What's happening, I-I don't remember," she held her head in her hands, grabbing onto her shoulder-length hair. It was only up to her chin the last time she remembered.

"Don't get upset," she whispered to herself. Calming down, she lifted her head up enough to look around and saw herself surrounded by grey stone walls, the only thing in her tiny cell being the creaky cot she sat on. She drew her knees up to her chest, staring at the ceiling while her light flickered every so often.

"I should be more surprised," her voice lowered to bitter growl. Somehow she always knew she'd be in this situation. In her mind, was a miracle she lasted this long without being thrown into jail, "I just wish I knew what I did."

While the woman babbled on to herself, two men in matching uniforms appeared in front of her cell.

"Hey, she's awake," one man pointed out.

"Dr. Leland said to bring her in as soon as she woke up," the other pulled out a card that allowed only official employees like him to open and close the cell doors. The woman was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard the thick glass that separated her from the rest of the building swish open.

"Who are you?" She backed herself into the corner of the wall that her bed was pushed against. These two men were wearing white uniforms, almost like scrubs, not what she would expect from a prison guard. There was something very strange going on. None of this made any sense.

"It's alright," one assured her, "we're just here to escort you to-"

And before he could get another word in, she had leap unexpectedly from her position and dodged right past him. Just as she aimed for the exit, the other man rushed to block her path. All she could think about at that time was getting out. Without a moment's hesitation, she balled her right hand into a fist and hit the man in front of her squarely in the jaw.

She thought she was home free, but just as she was about to run past the doors, she was yanked down to the floor by the man she had punched. It had taken all of five seconds for them to regain their composer and quickly grab onto the flailing woman.

"Let go of me!" She started to yell loudly. Struggling in the arms of the men, she realized she wouldn't be able to get free from their grip. Resigning herself to her fate, she let her body relax as much as in could in the hold of the two burly men.

She was taken down a long corridor filled with little cells just like the one she had been in, but she didn't dare look at any of them. Everything around her felt so surreal, she didn't even know if those yells she was hearing was because of her or not. Maybe she didn't want to know.

"What's going on?" She hadn't felt her lips move, but she knew that that meek broken tone belonged to her. And, she hated it. Still, after a minute or so, no respond came.

"I want an answer, damn it," she said more forcefully, the bit of energy she had before coming back. Still, the men remained silent. This did not go over well for the woman in their arms, she never liked being ignored.

"Oh, so you're not talking to me? Well, fuck you both! Put me down!"

Along the corridors of this strange place, there was little to console her but her own words, however vulgar they were. She wasn't yelling at them, yelling only made a person angry, she couldn't get angry. They didn't seem to mind her, almost acting as if there was no one in their arms.

Soon, they stopped, coming to their destination. A wooden door stood in front of the confused woman with nothing but a sign reading Dr. Joan Leland. One man opened the door while the other chose to push her inside.

She had barely processed what had happened when she was greeted by a light voice.

"Hello, Ms. Torrez."

An African-American woman, dressed in a white lab coat, was standing just a few feet away with a kind, reassuring smile on her face. With just one look around, with the diplomas on the wall and the cushioned seats sitting in front of a desk, it was painfully obvious to see what was going on now.

"Oh hell no, I am not crazy! I DON'T BELONG HERE!"

It had suddenly gotten so much harder for the woman, Ms. Torrez, to breath. Her knees were shaking and she was dizzy. She was losing herself again, going back into that little world that helped her… and hurt her. There was no pain there, no stress, nothing. She felt nothing.

Then, almost at once, she was back. It only lasted a second this time. Looking up, she saw the concern doctor standing over her. When had she fallen?

Dr. Leland raised her hand, attempting to help Ms. Torrez to her feet.

"I know this all must be very confusing to you, but-"

"What's going on?" the still wobbling woman interrupted, "What am I doing in… in Arkham?"

There, she had said it. She was in Arkham Asylum.

"Do you remember anything about the past few months?" Leland was given a cold stare, "I guess you don't."

"Ms. Torrez I-"

"Eva," the woman whispered, she was never one for formalities, "I like to be called Eva."

"Alright then, Eva, you… were involved in an accident, a murder actually."

"I killed someone?" That didn't make sense, she wasn't a violent person, confrontational, and a bit pushy at times, but never actually violent.

"Yes, it was a coworker of yours, Mrs. Bella Martin," the doctor said evenly.

There was no word on Eva's part. She just stood there, staring at the ground, no expression on her face. Leland just waited a second to let in sink in. This is usually a troubling time for new inmates, and there was no need to push her right now.

"You can sit down if you like; I know this can't be easy for you."

Eva's eyes moved to the cushions by the desk, and for a second, she contemplated taking her offer. But, she decided against it. What reason does she have to trust this woman? So far, all that's happened is that she woke up in a strange place, dragged around by two brutes, and told about a murder she supposedly committed. What did this woman have to support this claim?

Composing herself, Eva looked up and stared directly at the doctor, "I'm fine," She insisted, "I just want to know what happened after. Why am I here?" she emphasized the end, clearly showing her contempt for this place.

Leland was taken aback; Eva's demeanor had just done a complete 180o, definitely never a good sign. She wondered if it was a good idea whether or not to continue speaking with her today.

"During your incarceration," she began slowly, "you were experiencing wild mood swings and often passed out, so the court could not give you a fair trial."

There was a pause. The experienced psychologist started to get uncomfortable with the woman just a couple of feet away staring intensely at her. Cautiously, Leland pressed on.

"Eva, how long have you experienced these episodes?"

"I don't 'experience episodes'" she answered defensively, "I told you, I'm not crazy."

"So, you're saying that you killed a woman out of your own free will?"

Eva glared. This was just getting annoying, she knew she wasn't crazy, she shouldn't be in this place, and she couldn't have possibly done anything that warranted being put here.

"No wonder you guys never cure anyone, you're over here trying to create hypochondriacs."

"I'm just trying to help you, and the first step is admitting there is a problem." Leland said calmly, if Eva Torrez was already becoming difficult, it wasn't a good idea to anger her before knowing what was wrong.

"Oh I have a problem, over-used lines from self help books." Dr. Leland sighed, giving up on having a serious conversation.

"Maybe we should continue this another time."

There was an awkward silence for another few seconds.

"So, what now?" Eva asked, still distant.

"Now, you will be escorted back to your cell, its 1:46 so lunch is over, but a tray of food will be brought to you." Leland walked over to the door, turning the handle.

"During a normal day, you will be awoken at 8 o'clock for breakfast, lunch is at 12:30, and dinner is at 6." The two men from before were still outside waiting to take back the patient.

"And what's supposed to happen in between?" Eva asked, wondering how it worked in a nut house.

"At 4 there is either personal or group therapy, and at 2, you will be allowed time in the recreational room. Do you have any questions?"

"Nope," Eva responded without hesitation. She simply walked right past the good doctor, and was willingly lead back to her cell.

Almost immediately, Dr. Leland took a small tape recorder from her coat pocket. Clicking the record button, she voiced her first impressions of her new patient.

"By her dissociation and mood swings, I suspect post-traumatic stress disorder, but it's unclear as of yet. She quite possibly lapses into her episodes while experiencing strong emotions. This would certainly explain why she began acting so casually. Despite this, I don't think she should be in C block with Gotham's 'rogues.' Request a transfer."

The Doctor leaned back in her chair, and put her recorder down. She looked down at the open file on her desk labeled Evangelina R. Torrez.

"If there's any hope for you at all, it certainly won't be in C block.

I promise to continue the Riddler and the Rose and I understand your pain once this is over, I'm sorry to anyone who was looking forward to those updates. Please R&R.