You were a crazy- or well? That's sugar coating it. You were crazy as shit. See, you have done crazy crimes. And crazy stunts. And that means you were brought to the psych ward. Yay.

For your information; you were out in the grand city of New York, holding your best shot guns. Blasting around like nobody's business. And when someone finally called the cops, they tried to handle you. Tried. As any crazy person would. You fought back- and ended up injuring 5 cops.

That brings you to your first entrance to the psych ward. You stood in your cell– blocked off from the others –Playing on your trapeze. Which you demanded from all the threats you had said.

You stayed there and played. Occasionally flirting with your guards and doctors. Just for fun. Because like any other girl– with pretty privilege –you would try and flirt your way out of the psych ward.

Since trying that. You got moved to a separate room. In a cage, still stuck with your trapeze. With guards guarding the exits. You played with the guards, trying to make them let you out.

A few months in here pass, and you find yourself laying in your trapeze.. when your sweet old doctor came in. Dr. Scobell. Your favorite, your playful doctor. He stood up against the bars, looking at you through them.

"Hi sweetheart, why don't you come down from your trapeze?"