Author's Note: This chapter is to show how she lives her day-to-day life and how she obsesses over her time schedule. And to give you an idea of how hard it is for her to deal with her emotions. It'll get better after this I promise. Please Rate and Review!

Summary: Dr. Jessica Stanwood is offered a marvelous opportunity in Gotham at Arkham Asylum and she lunges at the chance. However, Jessica has many secrets to hide as she enters into the asylum as a psychologist. And living in Gotham, she meets an assortment of strange characters including the difficult and bull-headed Dr. Crane. Can Jessica keep things going smoothly as her secrets are slowly becoming exposed? Are her suspicions of the asylum and the strange happenings in Gotham legitimate? Or are they simply products of her paranoia?

Special Thanks to: Ramla Okami and selenameeka for beta reading my story. You've both been a tremendous help!

*Beep*

*Beep*

*BEEP*

I heave a sigh before switching off my alarm and rubbing my face. I look over at my alarm clock. It read exactly 4:35 a.m. like it did every morning.

"The life of Dr. Jessica Stanwood begins again" I mutter as I get up and go to the bathroom before heading to the kitchen.

I make my coffee with my French press while making one slice of lightly toasted and buttered toast. I eat my breakfast, take my meds and drink my coffee. 10 minutes.

I go back into the bathroom and undress before hopping into the scalding hot shower. I squirt a quarter size amount of my Herbal Essences "Dangerously Straight" shampoo into my hand before applying it. Starting at the roots and working to the tips. I rinse then repeat. I do the same sequence with my conditioner but before finishing, run a comb through my hair five times with the conditioner still in before rinsing. I can recall a time when Carrie made me "switch things up" and bought me some popular brand name shampoo and conditioner. What a nightmare that turned out to be. It took an extra three minutes out of my schedule and threw off the rest of my day. I strictly buy Herbal Essences products, namely the "Dangerously Straight" line.

I grab my unscented soap and lathered it up in my hands before rubbing my body in large counter-clockwise circles. I only use unscented, 'sensitive skin' soaps because all other products irritate my skin. Now that my body was cleansed, I squeeze a pea sized amount of exfoliating face wash into my hand and scrub my face before rinsing. Finished with my shower I turn the water off, wrapping a towel around my frame and then one in my hair before stepping out into the bathroom. I dry my body and put on my bra, panties and nylons. 20 minutes.

With my hair still wrapped up, I use my body towel to wipe off the mirror before

hanging it up. I floss my teeth. Rinse with my pre-mouth wash. Brush my teeth with baking soda. Brush my teeth with enamel restoring toothpasteand clean my tongue. Rinse with Listerine mouthwash. 5 minutes. My eyes flick to the clock that was in the bathroom, 5:00 a.m. on the nose.

I force a grin in the mirror, not truly happy with the reflection staring back at me. It was time for makeup. I lightly apply the foundation and dust my high cheek bones with light pink blush. Next, black eyeliner and mascara is donned with ease. I put on white and pink eye shadow and rub rosebud pink lipstick on my full lips. Finished with my makeup, I put on my clinical protection antiperspirant deodorant to avoid sweating through three shirts. 10 minutes.

I took the towel from my hair and hung it up. I brush my hair and turn my blow dryer on low. In 15 minutes it was dry. I turn off the blow dryer and put it away. I put on my gray pinstripe pencil skirt that came just below my knees and then my white ¾ sleeve button up shirt and tucked it in before slipping into black heels. Afterward, I put my hair into a simple bun and slide my thick black square frame glasses on. 5 minutes.

My eyes finally adjust to the farsighted lenses. My eyes have never been able to handle contacts and I only wore my glasses when absolutely necessary, hating the feeling of something on the bridge of my nose.

Giving one last gaze in the mirror, I saw my overemotional eyes and my blank face

perpetually devoid of sentiment. I force a dry laugh. All of the clothes that I now owned were hand picked by my roommate since college, Carrie, because she said all of my clothes were 'too weird' and unprofessional. She bought me a brand new wardrobe and threw away all of my old clothes. As I walk out to the living room to put on my jacket,

loud snores could be heard from Carrie's bedroom. The small smile that found it's way onto my lips was lacking emotion. I sigh heavily before grabbing my purse, keys and cell phone before locking the door on my way out. I walk down to the main floor of the apartment complex and made my way over to my car. In no time, I was off on my 30 minute commute to work.

On the drive, the same old thoughts crossed through my mind. Even with my profession, I wondered why I couldn't express my emotions like most people. What hindered my mind from externally expressing any feeling? I most certainly had intense emotions, just no one ever saw it because it seems that I am incapable of showing my feelings. And when I do, it's usually expressed inappropriately. I remember my first year at asylum, my first maximum security patient was placed in my care. As I walked into his cell, I didn't notice that his window was broken nor the shards of glass on the floor. So, when I turned to close the cell door, it came as a surprise to me when a shard of glass was plunged into my back. He pulled the shard up and down leaving a long angry gash that went up and down the left side of my back. The pain was excruciating; to the point where I almost vomited. I knew what this emotion was for certain. And yet, I didn't cry out nor did I scream. Instead, a grin grew on my face and I erupted in laughter. I knew this definitely was not the correct response and yet I couldn't stop. I continued to howl with laughter to the point where my sides and stomach hurt. It was after this incident is when Dr. Greene reevaluated me and put me on more medication. I still had the furious scar on my back, I displayed very little emotion and I was more hyper vigilant than ever.

I know what I feel, it was easy to identify the emotions, but I never express it correctly, when I present it at all. I was always so detached from others, never wanting to trust them, fearing their rejections and imagining the ways they could hurt and betray me. I never really allow myself to get close with anyone out of fear. I wouldn't consider any of my current relationships intimate or personal. The majority of them are strictly professional. The only person that gets me to spend time with them outside of work is my roommate, Carrie and I certainly wouldn't really consider us close though she would. I am far too guarded to allow anyone to get close to me. They are all high risks for hurting me. And though sometimes I do feel lonely, I feel that the isolation suits me better.

At 26 years of age, I have had a grand total of two boyfriends, and I was only intimate with one of them. The first one was when I was 16 with some guy name Robbie but school got too complicated and I ended it. Then when I was 20 I dated a guy named Neil. It took 6 months before he even got to kiss me. It took 2 ½ more years before I gave him my virginity, it was only once, and then school started consuming all my time so I ended things with him. I lost my virginity at 23 and haven't dated since.

I have always been extremely school oriented, I skipped a few grades and graduated high school at 14 ½, starting college immediately after. After getting emancipated at 16, I was roomed with Carrie in the college dorms, before eventually getting an apartment together to cut the cost of living. Even though Carrie was two years my senior, she was incredibly spoiled and immature. Her parents paid for everything and she was given all she wanted. This irritated me to a certain extent though no one could ever tell with my never ending apathy. I worked really hard for everything I have and it was frustrating to see someone who didn't work for anything get everything so easily. I worked so hard in college; I graduated and finished my internship at Morde Asylum in Seattle, Washington a little early. After I graduated and got my license, I was officially hired at Morde Asylum as a Psychiatrist.

I had always used school as my excuse for my lacking social and worked harder in school to back it up, but now that I'm no longer in school, its work that consumes all of my time. I made sure of this so I wouldn't have to explain why I never went out but now I found

myself at a crossroads. Though I adored my job, I was growing tired of the Pacific Northwest and everyone in it. Dr. Greene, my mentor retired a little over a year ago and I wasn't adjusting well to his replacement, Dr. Patton. He was chauvinistic and degraded everyone that wasn't as qualified as him. I couldn't work in that environment for much longer; my patience with him was growing thin. I spent the most time at the asylum out of my colleagues (including Dr. Patton), putting in 16 hours a day and 96 hours a week, giving me the most time with him. While I loved my research and work with my patients, I loathed Dr. Patton and could barely stand his presence anymore. So for the past six months I had been sending my resume` to asylums on the east coast hoping to get a new start as far away from him as possible. I had even taken two weeks off to attend some interviews. Hopefully they would prove to be promising prospects, especially after all the grief I got for actually requesting time off.

*How to fight loneliness Smile all the time Shine your teeth to meaningless And sharpen them with lies*

I was cut out of my thoughts as my cell phone went off. Filling the silence in the car with my melancholy ring tone. I looked down at the number. I didn't recognize it, but couldn't help to notice that it was an east coast area code. My heart skipped a beat and my mind flooded with excitement, but my cool demeanor remained. I flipped open my phone.

"This is Doctor Stanwood, how may I help you?" I asked flatly.

"Ah, Dr. Stanwood, I haven't woken you, have I?" Came the voice of an older man.

"No not at all sir. I've been awake for awhile now. May I ask who's calling?" I

responded dully. There was a soft chuckle on his end.

"Oh, of course. I am Doctor Jeremiah Arkham from Arkham Asylum. Remember, you had an interview here a couple of months ago?"

How could I forget that interview? Not only was this my final interview before returning to the west coast, but it was also the most meticulous interview I've ever had. It felt I was being interrogated by the police, but I admired their diligence. I signed the authorization form to perform a criminal background check on me before we parted ways.

"Oh yes, of course. What can I do for you this morning, Dr. Arkham?"

"We've recently had an opening in our staff and are looking to fill this position immediately. I was just curious to know if you were still interested in a position at Arkham Asylum." He spoke clear and concisely; carefully choosing his words.

I was both flattered and excited at this proposition. This was the chance I was looking for.

My lease was up in three weeks, I could put my two weeks notice in today and begin anew in Gotham. The timing couldn't be more perfect. There was no way I could pass up this opportunity. The corners of my mouth tugged up in a temporary smile.

"Of course I am, Dr. Arkham. I can start in three weeks, if you'd like." I said calmly.

"Terrific! That sounds perfect. We look forward to having you as a part of our

organization. We'll see you in three weeks." Dr. Arkham said ecstatically.

"Alright, that sounds great. I'll see you then. Bye, Dr. Arkham." I said passively. I hate talking on the phone, I just wanted to end this conversation as soon as possible. To my dismay he began again.

"Excellent. When you start we'll give you a basic overview of what we expect from our staff here at Arkham.. Good bye, Dr. Stanwood." He said.

"Oh that's no trouble at all. Bye Dr. Arkham." I heard the click on the other end and gratefully snapped my phone shut.

I was finally in the parking lot, sitting in my parked car letting everything soak in. I looked down at my cell phone; it read 6:00 am. I still had a half hour before my shift started. I was still right on schedule. I locked my car as I got out and walked into the asylum. I greeted the receptionists and made my way to Dr. Patton's office.