Princess of Arkham

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•Peyton West•
•Monday, 7:13•

Dark.

Dark was the one word I would use to describe the large building in front of me. Arkham Asylum was known for keeping in some of Gotham's most dangerous villains, and I was about to start working at it. When my name was announced at graduation, I literally couldn't help but scream. I wasn't the only one, Brianna and Georgia, were also screaming. Not in horror, but more like... A flirtatious, excited scream. Yes, flirtatious. Dr. Jonathan Crane is not the worst person to look at, he is fairly good looking. Anyways, I was looking up at the large building that was full of lunatics and sighed.

"Come on, Peyton. It's just a job." I mumbled to myself as I ran my small hand through my long, raven hair.

With each step up the stone staircase, my black heels made a clicking sound that I grown used to during my three month intern job at the hospital. When I reached the large glass doors that lead to the main lobby as well as the warden's office, I got a good look at myself. My long, dark hair, that reached about halfway down my back, framed my pale face making my bright eyes stand out. Weirdly, I was born with white irises, a genetic disorder that was passed down from my father to myself. My petite frame was hugged by a tight, white button up shirt that exposed my cleavage and my skinny legs were covered by my favourite pair of black skinny jeans. Not too fancy, but not too casual either. I hate my body, it's too small and thin.

"Good morning, you must be Miss West." A tall guard with hazel eyes and bright red hair greeted me as I walked through the double doors.

With a small nod to him, he lead me to the front desk where a very fake girl sat on a uncomfortable looking chair. The girl looked up at me through her thick-ass eye lashes and tapped one of her manicured fingers on the desk. Once I got a good look at the girl, she looked even worst. Her skin was spray tanned to an ugly orange and her makeup made her look like a hooker. Her tight, pink shirt basically had her chest spilling out and her black pencil skirt barely reached mid-thigh. Slut.

"Hi, Benny!" The receptionist spoke happily with her high, squeaky voice, making me flinch. "Is this the new girl? I have your tag right here." The girl stood up and leaned over the desk, handing me a badge with my name and photo from my fourth year of university on it.

"Thank you." I gave her a small nod and drifted away from Benny and Barbie girl.

As I wandered around the asylum unguarded, which is a very bad idea, I noticed that everything looked alike, so I started making mental of details so that I wouldn't get too lost. Each and every cell had a metal door and small, glass window in the middle of the door. Obviously because a lot of the patients were talkers and annoyed the guards more then they should, but the glass wasn't perfectly sound proof. If you screamed at the top of your lungs, someone on the other side would be able to hear it pretty well. At least it's better than metal bars like at Blackgate.

"Well, what do we have here?" A deep, rough voice spoke up from behind me, nearly making me jump out of my skin.

I spun around to meet the eyes of a man with green hair and clown paint. Around his eyes were painted black, his whole face white, and around his lips, as well as up his cheeks, was red, forming what looked like a smile. Obviously a patient, it's against the staff sanitary rules to be wearing face paint like that. I wonder why Barbie girl can get away with it. Luckily, he was bound by a straight jacket and chains around his ankles, as well as two guards that stood beside him. That made me feel a bit better. His eyes moved over my body making me feel self conscious and licked the sides of his painted mouth. Only then did I notice the scars, starting at the sides of his mouth and curved up his cheeks into a smile. Even with my protected childhood, I knew exactly who this man was.