The longer Dinah remained in Arkham, the stronger the doubts became. But she was determined-she would not lose hope. She knew who she was, and she knew what she was supposed to be doing. And wandering around Arkham in a drug induced haze was not it.
Determined to meet as many patients as she could and hear their stories, Dinah set about down the hallway toward the common area. She didn't get very far when she spotted the young guy on the bench, strumming away at an invisible guitar. For a moment she was torn between wondering if that was evidence of crazy, or merely evidence of how much Arkham had taken away from each of its patients.
Since there didn't seem to be an orderly or nurse around at the moment, she figured now might be a good time to have another conversation with a patient.
Maybe if she learned enough details about where each of them were from and what had happened before they woke up here, maybe then she could figure this all out. Maybe then she could find a way out, for all of them.
Dinah sat next to the guy on the bench and glanced over him.