Crimson Streets: an Arkham Asylum Story

Chapter 4

After my little show back in the interrogation room, my plan began to fall into place.

My lawyer, police officers, and even a couple psychiatrists came in to inspect me, and despite the fact that I find myself both a bad actress and a bad liar, I surprisingly passed all the tests they threw at me.

The day of my trial finally came, and I smiled as the guards removed me from my cell. I'd gotten a little claustrophobic inside that tiny, dark cell, and it was quite a relief to stretch my legs.

I would tell you about my trial, but really, there isn't much to tell about it. Most of the time, I was either trying to block out what was being said or trying to give the jury my best stink eye.

I breathed a sigh of relief as the judge announced that I would be going to Arkham rather than Blackgate due to the insanity plea. My mother looked infuriated, but I only smiled as I was taken out of the courtroom. At least I didn't have to see her anymore.

My only thoughts of doubt came to me when I was being driven to the Asylum, my wrists once again suffering because of a pair of wretchedly tight handcuffs.

I had heard many stories about the place, just like everyone else in Gotham had, and to be honest I was starting to get a little nervous. Was Arkham actually as incompetent as people said it was? Would any of the inmates take notice of me, or worse, try to kill me? Would I go mad myself?

I tried not to think about anything, especially those thoughts, but as soon as the police car drove under the iron gates, my anxiety skyrocketed. I balled my hands into tight fists to stop them from shaking, and my eyes were wide with fear.

As two policeman led me to the front entrance to the asylum, my eyes widened even more. I had never realized it before, but the place was huge, and despite having some modern security measures like sniper towers, it was gorgeous. The tall building in front of me was built just in that Gothic style that I loved, and lush plants grew everywhere where there wasn't a paved street. I deeply inhaled the fresh air surrounding the place, and I relaxed a little. Perhaps this place wouldn't be so bad after all.

I was quickly pushed inside, and I grimanced. Clearly, the need for modern appliances weighed out the need to keep the vintage architecture. Anything that wasn't made of metal was either painted white or made of gray concrete, and the only speck of wood anywhere was on the office doors, and the officers led me through one of these doors. I managed to get a glimpse of the name etched onto the wood just before I was pushed into the room: Dr. Jeremiah Arkham.