FREAKS || Jerome Valeska¹

10 || Arkham's Ginger

The screeching of metal gates opening outside alerted me - We had made it to Arkham. My body jolted forward as the tiny van moved and again when it halted to a stop. I could feel my heart stuck in my throat, beating with a mixture of anticipation and dread. My head was spinning a little.

A car door shut, "Let's get her inside!" Someone exclaimed, making me feel like nothing more than a cargo shipment.

Bright light abruptly illuminated the tiny confinement space, causing me to squint. I had no time to adjust before I was dragged outside by a strong grip on my arms. My eyes blinked rapidly, and when they finally could take in their surroundings, a light, almost inaudible gasp escaped my lips.

Arkham Asylum loomed above me, its massive structure weathered, dirty, and mildly neglected. Like the rest of the city, it was dull, exuding hopelessness and fear - my knees trembled at the sight. Everything I had ever heard of it, all the pictures, couldn't begin to compare to the lifesize skeleton I was seeing. My heart quickened. I gulped, wondering if my life would be as dreadful as I was now starting to imagine.

I was yanked out of my thoughts.

"Hurry." One of the orderlies practically snarled, rolling his eyes. He looked to be in his early to mid-twenties. Maybe even in his early thirties. Light blue eyes. Ashen brown hair, and I could've said he was cute... But, his rudeness defeated whatever attractive aspect I had of him.

"Bossy, much." I scoffed as we walked through the main doors - officially inside Arkham. The man narrowed his eyes, finding me annoying, and I kind of liked that.

The lighting inside the facility made me squint even harder. A bright neon aqua color. It bounced off the white walls. To make it worse, the tile floor had a black-and-white pattern scheme. I felt like I was being swallowed by a black hole.

Both orderlies ushered me through dimly lit halls lined with an unimaginable number of steel doors, bold numbers printed on each cell door. A-118, A-119, A-120.

Door A-120 was unlocked by the second man - a copper, dark-eyed man. The room's poor state was exposed. A single bed with an old mattress was topped with worn-out, stained bedsheets. A small dilapidated table that would serve as a nightstand stood beside it with nothing but a lamp. I was taken inside and released from the muzzle and the straitjacket.

"Put those on." The blue-eyed man gestured to the bed, where a set of clothes with black and white stripe patterns lay. There wasn't any women's clothing left. Just be thankful you got any, alright?" They proceeded to walk to the door. "And hurry the hell up, will you? We don't have all day."

I smirked as they turned to close the door. "Yes, sir." I saluted mockingly, earning a scowl from the same man as he slammed the door shut. They stood right outside, waiting.

Disgust twisted my nose as I inspected the discoloration of the clothes - the stains of who knows what that never came off. The white had become sickly yellow, and the black, a faded grey. I quickly stripped out of my Blackgate jumpsuit, my spine shaking when cold air rinsed down it. Quickly, I donned the thin sheets of scratchy Arkham fabrics that did nothing to protect me from the cold. There was a beige (more like old yellow) long-sleeve shirt, striped pants, and a button-up shirt with my cell number in red lettering. It was more like pajamas rather than a uniform, which I liked. A pair of slippers were placed under the uniform. I quickly slid them on.

I glanced at the bright red bold number on the button-up shirt: A-120. Unbelievable that my life would come to this. In an insane asylum, wearing a shabby, stained uniform, and reduced to a number. Terrifying. Talk about severe issues.

"Could these outfits be any more disgusting?"

I rolled my eyes at the voice that had begun to complain in my head. "Pray this plan was worth it!"