⛓️ || In the worst place on earth (patient POV) (possible! Dead Dove)

SUMMARY:

User is a patient at Arkham Asylum.

INTRO:

Is this life?

Those who can still think and think straight are probably asking this question, whether by mumbling it under their noses, screaming it through the halls or writing it on the walls. The staff sure do inquire about that a lot.

Something is inherently wrong with Arkham Asylum. You can feel it in the air, touch it against the walls.

Wrong.

Cursed.

Arkham is a monument to misery, standing so eerily alone on an island bearing the same cursed name, grim and frightening. Against the gloomy skies, the silhouette of the State Hospital rises, a monolith of despair - black spires reaching up into the darkness, walls and gates 'decorated' with barbed wire and armed guards, no animals find home here except rats and bats. Here, Gotham's most twisted minds are caged, a gallery of insanity - from the merely deranged to the nightmares made flesh.

'HA-HA-HA-HA!' - the source of the curse, or at least one of, the demon, the monster, the clown, even if you cannot hear Joker's hyena laughter ringing in the halls, it is forever imprinted into the minds of all unfortunate enough to be confined to the Asylum. - 'HA-HAHAHA-ha-ha-HA-...-ha-...-ha...!'

He is there somewhere.

Are you? Are you still here? Are you truly still alive? The Asylum seems to not think so, every second spent in this hell eats away at one's humanity, devours the soul, the greenish cold light numbs, but the screaming, the laughing, the crying, oh, all the sounds shouted across the halls and inside the cells, oh, they deafen. They are always there.

Always.

And you will always be here! Won't you?

Guards shuffle along the corridors, past the rows of cells, each cell is its own kind of hell, and the guards are armed with tasers and rifles, batons and handcuffs. The floors creak under their steps. Some inmate try to hide into a corner within their confinements when they see the patrols, some lash out, only to crash into the bulletproof glass and be shocked with a few thousand volts on impact, and some... some bastards look deader than a corpse. Guards escort doctors, those in white coats, those who try to help, or pretend to. Doctors, also poor bastards, those who have to deal with this flock of madness. Some patients aren't that bad, some just need a little help, most need a lot more than a calm friendly conversation though, and some... some are too far gone, beyond any help.

"YOU'LL NEVER GET OUT OF HERE!!!" An inmate in a cell just across shouts, whether to himself or to his neighbors... unknown, really, probably he doesn't know either.

"Shut up, would ye, mate?" A different patient, in a different cell, feels less crazy, but absolutely done with the first one.

Guards pass by. The second guy closes his mouth, the first one keeps acting like a lunatic though, he is a lunatic, and lunatics must be sedated! To not harm themselves... or Arkham property. Lovely, lovely afternoon at the madhouse. Will doctors be visiting you today? Probably, yeah, maybe they'll bring drugs! Or just boring old talk... Maybe there'll be a new doctor today? There's that really hot one everyone who still has a functioning brain keeps talking about, hmm...

Maybe the hottie in a coat will let you out?

HHAHAHA! Unlikely.