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She's Not a Saint	By : AsylumWritings Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 489 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Batman/DC Comics, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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“This is our medium security wing, where we keep our patients who have committed serious and violent crimes, but aren’t considered as high a risk as some of our more famous patients.” Dr. Crane told the young woman he was escorting past my cell.
“Oh Doctor, I take exception to that.” I got up from my bed, walking over to the bars and clinging to them. “We both know that I’m very famous in Gotham.”
The thin man sighed, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose. “This is Liliana Antonelli. She’s the daughter of crime boss Salvatore Maroni. She is famous, but not high risk.”
“What did she do?” The young woman asked, and I assumed she was a new psychologist or something.
“I tortured a cop for four hours, then killed him.” I rested my head against the cool metal of the bars. “And I would do it again.”
“Cash, please escort Miss Antonelli to my office for her session.” Crane gestured to the guard behind him. “I’ll be there momentarily.”
I stepped back, away from the bars, watching as the two of them left. Cash slid the cell door open, and I held out my hands for him to cuff. He was my favourite guard, because he didn’t just drag me around.
“I thought you were taking the week off.” I commented, as he walked me down the corridor. “You said something about going to Metropolis to see your sister?”
“That’s next week. I’m surprised you remember.” He opened the door to the office, making sure I was seated comfortably before he connected my cuffs to the chain on the floor.
I gave him a sweet smile. “I get my dates mixed up in this place, but I try to remember as best I can.”
Crossing my right leg over my left, I looked around the office. There wasn’t anything new to see, but the longer I was in Arkham, the more I was learning about Doctor Jonathan Crane. He was younger than the other psychiatrists and doctors I’d seen around, and he was annoyingly pushy about getting to the roots of all my apparently numerous issues.
“Well, Miss Antonelli, are you ready to start our session?” Crane asked, walking in and sitting down behind his desk.
“You know me, Dr. Crane. I’m always ready to talk to you.” I traced the stripes of my pants, watching as he opened my file. “But surely we’re past being this formal now. I’ve been here for nearly a month, you can call me Lili.”
“Lili, then.” He said quietly, his ice blue eyes looking over my face. “I think it’s time we discuss the event that brought you here to the asylum. You’ve been avoiding talking about it.”
I tilted my head, playing with my hair. “It’s really not very interesting, not when there are far more exciting things we could discuss.”
“What would you prefer to talk about?”
He watched me closely as I thought, his heavy gaze making me uncomfortable, like it always seemed to. It was like he could see through everything I said. It didn’t matter if I was lying or telling the truth, he would see past my words and straight into my motives. I hated that I had to talk to him in order to eventually get out of this hell hole, but evading questions provided me at least some entertainment on the way there.
“I want to talk about how you manage to afford such well tailored suits working here.” I laughed at the slight frustration that was appearing on his face. “Surely they don’t pay you that well to deal with people like me.”
He was a relatively calm doctor, compared to the others, but I’d begun to notice over the past week that I was starting to get to him. And right then, as I saw his jaw tighten slightly, I realised I might have hit on something big. I didn’t want to push too far, but now I was interested to see what I’d stumbled upon.
“If you talk to me about the attack, I’ll make sure you can see your father in a couple of days.” He tapped his pen on the desk, a little impatiently.
I bit my lip, hesitating for a moment. I hadn’t seen Papa since I’d been brought in, and I did miss him.
“Fine.” I sighed. “You want to know what happened that night? I was at a bar, with my friend Sonia. This cop hit on me, but I blew him off. I thought that was the end of it, but when I left to go home, he grabbed me, and dragged me into an alleyway.”
I smiled a little at the memory of what I did next. “But I guess he didn’t expect me to fight back. I stabbed him with the knife I always kept on me and stole his gun. I forced him into the trunk of my car, then drove him to Papa’s warehouse.”
“What did you do to him?” He wrote in my file, the scratching of the pen echoing in the quiet room.
“I tied him to a column, and spent four hours cutting slices of his skin off. And then,” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “When he was nearly gone, I cut off his dick. Then I shot him in the head.”
He was silent for a moment, his strong face clearly deep in thought. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Did I… what?” I looked up at him in surprise.
“You went far beyond self defence that day. Four hours with a knife is controlled, and more like revenge. So, I’m asking, did you enjoy torturing him like that?”
I thought about how to answer that, because neither answer would look good. If I told him yes, I’d look even crazier, and if I told him no, he’d know I’m lying.
After a few more seconds, I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Fine. Yes, I enjoyed it. I enjoyed watching the panic, the fear in his eyes as he realised I wasn’t going to let him go. So tell me, Doctor, am I crazy? Do I belong here? There. I told you everything, can I go now?”
“Do you think you’re crazy?” He asked.
“It seems a little counter-productive to ask the patient if she thinks she’s insane.”
He closed the file, clasping his hands on top of it. Then he looked at me over the top of his glasses. “I think that something else happened to you, after your brothers were killed. Something that made you this angry and scared. And whatever that was, it turned you into who you are now.”
“When you figure that out, which I’m sure will be a process that you’ll enjoy, please let me know.” I held my cuffed wrists out to him. “Are we finished?”
He nodded, pressing the button on the desk. Cash came back in, and unhooked me.
“I look forward to our next session, Dr. Crane.” I grinned, as I was escorted out of the room.
He watched her leave the room, his curiosity almost getting the better of him. He still didn’t know why the higher ups had assigned her to him, when he usually worked with the maximum security patients. He couldn’t argue, because he’d only been working there for a couple of years.
Still, he was interested to see where his discussions with her would go. No one goes from the loss of a sibling to torture and murder seventeen years later without a few steps in between. She wasn’t useful for what he was working on, but maybe she could provide a needed distraction from his work when he needed one.
He made a note in her file to ask about what happened after she lost her brothers. He’d picked up on something big now, and he wasn’t going to let it go. He’d seen the way her eyes almost glittered when she challenged him to figure it out.
I sat at the table, picking at my bland mashed potatoes. If I wasn’t already insane, eating the same food every single day was absolutely going to push me over the edge. I could hear the voices of other patients and guards, but I’d mostly learnt how to tune them out by this point. There was one unmistakable voice in the crowd though, and unfortunately it was getting closer. Looking up, I watched as Ed sat down across from me.
“Without fingers I point, without arms I strike, without feet I run. What am I?” He asked, leaning his elbows on the table.
I knew the answer almost immediately, but I took a moment to study his face. “It’s a clock, obviously.”
For just a millisecond, a look of annoyance crossed his face. Then he straightened back up, taking a sip of his water. “That was an easy one, even you could get it.”
“Oh, Ed, thank you for dumbing down that riddle for me. You’re so smart, won’t you please teach me how to be as smart as you?” I replied sarcastically, resting my chin in my hand. “Or maybe you could actually give me a challenge for once.”
“Then how would I ever get an answer out of you?”
I pressed my hand to my chest in mock offence. “You wound me. I thought we were friends.”
“How was your session with the good doctor?” He watched me as I ate, staring intently at me.
“The same as it always is. He asks questions I don’t want to answer, sees right through my lies, so on.” I ate the last bite of my food, then stood up. “I’ll see you later.”
I walked over to the guard, and he escorted me back to my cell. It was a cool evening, for summer, and it’s not like I really had anything to do, so I lay down on my bed to read. But it was hard to focus, because I was just so sick of being in this place.
Papa had promised he would get me out, but every day that passed made that seem less and less likely. I hadn’t heard anything from him for a fortnight, and I was scared that he’d given up on me.
“What are you reading?” I heard Ed ask from his cell across the hall.
I sat up to look at him, leaning back on my hands. “I’ll answer that, when you finally tell me how you managed to end up here in medium security wing.”
He ran his fingers through his dark hair. “I’ve only killed a couple of people, I guess until I commit a huge mass murder they don’t deem me that much of a danger.”
“Maybe you’re just not that threatening.” I laughed. “I’m reading Medea.”
“That’s not surprising. Considering how you ended up here, it makes sense that you would read a play about feminine revenge.”
“I’d like to return to it, or is there something more you wanted to discuss?”
He shrugged, lying back and staring up at the ceiling. I sighed, going back to my reading.
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She's Not a Saint