Four Walls

Wake up call was at eight in the morning, though, we were allowed to sleep until nine if truly necessary. Arkham was largely staffed, to the point that if doctors didn't see you for meds, they could just tell someone to get your ass up and out of bed.

I sauntered out to the rec room at about fifteen past eight, really only having changed into a pair of drawstring shorts and a sweatshirt, and combed my fingers through my tangled platinum hair. It was a little chilly, as always, but I knew my body would warm up with more movement.

Tired bodies crowded the area, and I waited in line for the little cup full of pills, forcing a sleepy smile at the nurse who handed them over. I knocked them back, dry swallowing. There came a time in every mental ill person's life when water was just not necessary.

Activities for the day wouldn't start for another forty-five minutes, so I took a seat in between two lobotomy-cases (not literally, but might as well have been, the way they zoned out), and looked around at all the tired faces.

I had a therapy session at one, and had to busy myself with art and small groups until then, just like every other day.

A figure walking through the double doors caught my attention, mostly because it was unfamiliar-- a young lady, maybe late teens or early twenties, with brown hair and vibrant green eyes. She was pale, but didn't look sickly, exactly--definitely already had the Arkham look, though.

Must be the new girl, I thought to myself, watching as she approached the pill counter with a scowl on her face. She seemed to be muttering to herself, something common in places like this, and when the nurse said 'good morning' to her, she simply raised an eyebrow and turned away.

Tearing my gaze away, I turned back to the doors on the opposite side of the room, those leading to the higher security wards.

There were three wings at the asylum, and patients were placed in them depending on how dangerous they were. The lowest security ward, what I was in, was mostly for the zombies of the hospital, patients whose medicine completely fried their brains and other, more stable patients. The middle ward was for those who needed their doors to remain locked at all times. They were escorted to many places, but usually remained under control thanks to the extra eyes watching them. The last ward was, obviously, for the biggest threats-- unstable killers, terrorists, and others of the like. There weren't many patients there, but those that were kept were renowned.

The man who was walking through the doors from medium security, or so I assumed, as that's where Crane always put him. He was a familiar face, one that made me smile, and I bit back laughter as I watched a guard walk with him to pick up his meds, the patient showing a toothy smile to the nervous nurse as he giggled out, "Th-thank you, ma'am," and surveyed the room.

I raised a hand, wriggling my fingers when his eyes landed on me, and his eyebrows raised, mouth forming the syllable, "Ah!" before he scuttled over, wedging himself between me and the lobotomy to my left.

"Fancy seeing you here," he said, licking his lips and eyeing anyone who looked our way.

"Never left. You, however, did. What'd they get you on, Jack?"

He shrugged his shoulders in a dramatic fashion, slumping back against the chair. "I may have put a hit out on Gotham's dearest police commissioner." It was not a laughing matter, but I still found myself chuckling. "That city just makes it so easy, though! It's already so broken, so corrupt! All they need is a little push in the right direction, and--..."

"Mr. Napier," the well-known voice of Dr. Crane rang out. I had been so intent on listening to Jack's ridiculous rantings that I hadn't even seen him walk up. The blonde man turned to look at him and faked another wide smile, holding out his hand for a shake, his smile only fading when Crane just stared at him. "I believe we have an appointment this morning.

"Come all the way down from your lovely cubicle just to escort me? How romantic."

I stifled a giggle, looking away. As much as I adored the psychiatrist, it was still amusing to watch Jack tease him, always had been. Crane was always so composed and clinical, and Jack was about the only person who could ever get a reaction out of him. There was a reason people called him the Clown Prince, after all.

"Good morning, Miss Rochester," the doctor acknowledged me, making me roll my eyes. Always the professional, except for behind doors, and even then, I think the most personal he had ever gotten with me was calling me by nickname and rubbing my back when I had a breakdown.

I could understand it, though. He oversaw the entire hospital. Professionalism was important.

"Dr. Crane," I nodded, then elbowed Jack in the ribs, jerking my head in the direction of the lanky man standing before us. "Go on, then. I'm sure you have some very important matters to discuss."

He let out a loud groan but heaved himself up on his feet, following Crane dutifully out of the room and leaving me alone with the other patients again.

Jack Napier had been in Arkham for quite a while longer than I had, and that was taking his little spurts of parole into consideration. He had been on trial countless times, always pleading insanity, which he was granted because, well, he was insane. Almost everybody feared him, and they couldn't be blamed, especially with scars like his.

But, he was extremely interesting, and I was drawn to him and his stories, even if half of them didn't even make sense. I wasn't sure if we would call each other friends, exactly, but we were familiar and therefore comforting to each other.

Time passed slowly, but eventually, I was moving from one activity to another, sketching one hour and taking a walk in the gardens the next. When I had first arrived at Arkham, I wasn't exactly keen on all of this busy work, but I soon found that a busy brain was a clear brain, and that was what I strove for. If I sat alone for too long, the guilt began to manifest-- guilt for what I had done, what Lily had done, because even though I could never remember her surfacing, I always saw the aftermath.

My mother sobbing.

My father screaming.

My brother leaving.

"Ripleigh?"

I looked up from the cafeteria table at the soft voice, showing a small smile at seeing the face of Dr. Mercy Guzman, Crane's intern and probably one of the only hospitable staff members in the hospital.

"Sorry, zoning out."

She nodded, holding a clipboard to her chest, and stated, "You have a session in a few minutes. Are you ready to see the doctor?"

I nodded and stood, taking my tray and dumping it into the trashcan as I tried to ignore the wary looks the orderlies were giving me. The bandage on my arm was a painful reminder of what had happened just a couple of days ago.

The walk to Crane's was mostly silent, save for Dr. Guzman asking how I was doing and how I was feeling. She had a kind nature to her and a determined look in her eyes at all times. I liked her and had from the moment she was first hired.

Crane was sitting at his desk, as per usual, but stood as soon as we walked in. He sent an annoyed glance at his intern, biting out a cold, "Don't you have something else you could be doing?" And, waved her off when she walked stiffly from the room, having enough dignity not to stomp.

As soon as the door closed, I looked at him, irritated. "You need to be nicer to her. She's pretty great."

"I don't like interns," he told me curtly.

I had been around for three of them, and Crane treated each like shit. It was the only time his professionalism wavered.

"But, that isn't important right now," he continued, sitting down at the same time I did and placing a notepad on his lap. "How are you feeling today, Ripleigh?"

"Peachy."

"You seem irritated."

"Sometimes, you irritate me," I smirked.

His brow raised, and he wrote something down. I was absolutely clueless as to how anything I'd said so far was of any importance but brushed it off.

"Jack Napier is back," he stated. I nodded. "Does that make you happy?"

God, the routine and structure of the questions was enough to make me want to blow my brains out. "I suppose. He's a laugh and a half."

"There's a reason people call him the Joker," Crane muttered.

Again with the nodding. I glanced around out of habit, pursing my lips before announcing, "I saw the new girl today."

"Casper Salazar."

"Sure. Have you talked with her yet?"

I figured he was going to deflect my question, as always, and was slightly surprised when he answered honestly, "I have yet to hold a session with her." And then, he decided it was time to get to business, sitting back and crossing his legs. "Ripleigh, can you tell me why you hurt yourself on Monday?"

"No, I honestly can't."

"Do you think I could talk to Lily about it?"

"I know you're gonna try to even if I say no, so why not," I mumbled, temper rising.

Crane straightened up again, frowning. "You know that isn't true, Leigh." He sounded offended, and it was very satisfying. I liked seeing him leave robot-mode. "If you don't want to, just say the word."

As much as I didn't want to make the switch, I knew that I needed to. Crane would have unanswered questions until he talked with Lily which would frustrate him to no end and, ultimately, frustrate me.

"We can do it. Let me just mentally prepare myself for being blacked out for the rest of the day." He revealed the tiniest of smiles and leaned forward, waiting until I laid back and nodded. "Ready."

"Alright, I want you to close your eyes and empty your mind," he started in the calmest of voices. "Nothing matters right now. Imagine yourself floating. Imagine that you're weightless." He went on in that tone for a while, and I could feel my body getting heavier, could feel my mind going blank.

"Now, I want you to think about your childhood. Think about what you did as a kid. Think about your brother, Jay."

We... played, I thought slowly. He protected me... Brought me gifts... Cleaned my scratches...

"Think hard. I need you to think hard, Lily."

No.

I could remember swinging with Jay in the backyard. We were having a jumping contest. I was nine, and he was thirteen. I just wanted to have fun.

"Think about the time you spent together. What did you do with Jay, Lily?"

I scraped my palms when I landed and cried out at the pain. Jay was there in a second, leading me into the house. Mom was at the grocery store, and Dad was at work.

"Lily?"

I could feel my blood begin to boil where I was on the couch, my fingers clawing at the leather.

Jay had me sit on the counter in the bathroom and cleaned my hands, hushed, soothing words spilling from his mouth before he looked at me and smiled brightly.

"Good as new, Lil," he said and helped me down. "How about we play inside, now?" He placed a hand on my shoulder before leading me out of the bathroom and down the hallway to his room.

"What do you want to play, JayJay?"

"That was awfully mean of you, Doctor."



The blonde sat up with a smirk on her face, blinking at the psychiatrist with doe eyes. "Hello, Jonathan," she greeted. "I was wondering when I'd get to see your lovely face again."

"Lily," Crane forced a smile, feeling his palms begin to sweat. "How are you feeling?"

"Well, I've been feeling a little neglected," she pouted, standing up to pace. It was a habit that she and Ripleigh had in common. "But, other than that, I'm feeling great. I've gotta warn you, though, digging around like you just were is dangerous. You might find something you don't like."

The doctor took a few notes before watching her, noticing the way she adjusted her shorts so that they hung lower on her hips, how she stood with a hip cocked out, how her back arched ever so slightly as she stood, dipping and leading down to--...

"I can feel you staring at me," she said, turning to look at him over her shoulder. Her normally amber eyes were a darker shade, and her lips tilted upward at the corners. "If you see something you like, just say so, Doctor."

Crane breathed out, redirecting his gaze. He didn't know why he had expected this session with Lily to go any different than the others. She was always so difficult to work with, and half of that could be attributed to the fact that his mind clouded over as soon as she started speaking in that husky tone.

Still, he had questions. He was a professional, and he had been treating both Ripleigh and Lily for years, now.

"Lily, can you tell me why you hurt yourself on Monday?"

"Straight down to business," she mocked, walking toward him, now.

"I need to know. Why'd you cut yourself?"

Lily had three different moods--angry, self-loathing, and lustful--all of which Crane was used to at this point. When she was angry, she was difficult because she screamed and liked to hurt others. While going through her self-loathing, she mostly wanted to hurt herself. She was also most unstable, then, muttering and unable to differentiate between the past and the present. What he was seeing now, though, was the last side of her, and she was basically impossible to deal with because she only had one thing on her mind.

"Can't we just sit and talk about trivial matters for once?" She stopped in front of him, and he looked up at her with what he hoped was a bored expression.

"No, take a seat, Lily."

"Okay," she smirked again and moved forward to straddle him, the brunette dropping his notepad to hold her by the hips and keep her standing.

"On the couch," he growled out.

She winked and stuck her tongue out before turning. "So demanding. I like it." She swayed her hips as she walked back over and sat down.

Lily watched him, enjoying the pink tint to his cheeks that always surfaced when he began to get flustered. He cleaned his glasses before setting them back on his face, and looked at her seriously. "Why did you hurt yourself?"

The bandage on her arm reminded her of the cafeteria stunt she had pulled with the broken fork, and she sighed theatrically. "Well, just because I know you won't stop hounding me until I give in, I'll tell you, kitten." His pen was in his hand in an instant. "I did it for the other patients."

"What do you mean?"

"It was a cry for attention."

"Obviously," he scoffed.

"It was to show them that there's another way."

"Another way?"

The blonde nodded and grinned. "Another way out." Crane frowned, cocking his head to the side. "In the end, Jonathan, that's all any of us want in here--to get out."

"So, that was a suicide attempt?" He hid his surprise well, but Lily could tell that he was shaken. She could read him so well, much better than Ripleigh could, she thought.

"No, no, if I had wanted to kill myself, I would have killed myself. This was just a seed."

Her grin widened, but this time it was sly and mysterious rather than lascivious.

Crane stared at her for a long while before looking back to his notepad and scribbling furiously, leaving Lily to sit back in satisfaction.