AHS: Asylum - Delphinium

02 - Friends in Low Places

In the dimly lit cell, Arthur Barclay and Kit Walker found themselves side by side, both confined within straitjackets that restricted their movements. The air inside was heavy with the weight of their circumstances, and silence hung in the oppressive atmosphere.

Kit sighed, his voice filled with frustration. "How did it come to this?"

Arthur turned his head slightly to acknowledge Kit's presence, his dark eyes reflecting a mix of cynicism and resignation. He spoke with a hint of irony, "Ah, the eternal question of Briarcliff. We all have our stories, don't we?"

Kit's tone remained somber. "Yeah, but most stories don't end up like this."

Arthur couldn't help but chuckle softly, a touch of gallows humor in his voice. "True enough. I suppose we're the lucky ones, then. We get to experience the unique charm of this place up close."

Kit's disbelief was evident. "Lucky? You call this lucky?"

Arthur smirked, his tone more serious now. "Sometimes, gallows humor is all we have left. Besides, it's way better than what's waiting for us out there."

Kit pressed further, his curiosity piqued. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

"The electric chair."

After Arthur's chilling remark, the room fell into an uneasy silence, the reality of their situation sinking in. Outside the cell, the distant sounds of the asylum carried on, a cacophony of madness that seemed worlds away.

Arthur, sensing the awkwardness, decided to break the silence. "You know, Kit, they may think we're mad, but there's a fine line between sanity and the illusion of it. What's the difference between the jailer and the jailed in this madhouse?"

Kit regarded Arthur with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. "You're not like the others here, are you?"

Arthur paused, considering his response carefully. "Perhaps, perhaps not. But neither are you."

"In some way, that makes me feel better," Kit admitted.

"That's good to know," Arthur replied, his tone becoming more introspective.

"You don't care, do you?" Kit asked, sensing that Arthur was a man of few words.

Arthur hesitated, his dark eyes glancing toward the dimly lit ceiling as if searching for the right words. His fingers absently traced the faded pattern on his straitjacket. Finally, he spoke, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken burdens, "No, sorry."

Kit sensed there was more beneath the surface and pressed further, showing a genuine interest. "It's fine, but I'd like to know. What's your story, Arthur?"

Arthur hesitated, his mind revisiting a painful past. No one had ever asked about him before.

"Well, I was born into a good life, a good community. Everything was seemingly perfect," Arthur began, his voice carrying the weight of years of pent-up emotions.

Kit Walker nodded, his curiosity piqued. "I see. But what happened before all of that?"

Arthur Barclay paused, his gaze distant as he delved into his past. "Before the murders?"

Kit nodded.

Arthur hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "Long before the murders? Hmm, well my parents were both accomplished lawyers, and they discovered my... exceptional intellect when I was just a child, no older than five."

Kit leaned in, his interest growing. "How did they find out?"

Arthur's lips curled into a faint smile as he recollected the moment. "It happened during a family dinner. My parents were discussing a complex case they were working on, and I, being the ever-curious child, asked a question that stumped them both. It was a question that revealed a perspective they hadn't considered, a legal angle that could potentially change the course of the trial."