The only source of light was coming from the dingy overhead lamp above you. Darkness surrounded you none the less.

You had gone through countless doses of fear toxin from Scarecrow that you could barely differentiate what’s real and what’s a nightmare.

You prayed every waking hour that Bruce would find you and rescue you from this hell you were captured in. The only thing you had to keep you sane was frequent visits from the Arkham Knight.

During his hourly visits, he would release you from your rope restraints and talk to, trying to get you to warm yo to him like you did back then. When he had your heart.

“You talk to me like you don’t know me. I promise you,” he walks up to you, close to your ear. “You know me more than anyone else has.” His mask modulates his real voice, hiding his identity.