Fandom: DC, although not necessarily so.
Author Notes: A bit of an experimental fragment.
I was careful. I didn't want anyone to think I was crazy. I had a notebook on one hand as I walked through the halls, always keeping my right hand lightly touching the wall.
Hours later I was back when I started. Not once had my hand brushed over an opening or a gap. I tried to remember the path I used to go home to sleep, but I couldn't even remember how my bed looked like. And I couldn't ask my fellow doctors, could I? They'd think I was insane, and get me committed. Perhaps here. That... that I wouldn't be able to stand.
"It's alright, doctor," said one of the patients from behind a door I never crossed. "You're just tired. Take a nap." He was right, I thought, and went to look for a bed in the resting rooms. Perhaps a shower, later. It wouldn't be the first one to go from shift to shift like that. I couldn't remember, in fact, the last time I had seen anyone come to work to Arkham from outside.
"Do you happen to remember," said the patient as I walked away, "the definition of inside?" His laughter was frightening, and I wished I knew how to get away.
My guess is that if you looked at the blueprints for Arkham (or rather, if you ignored the blueprints and looked at how it's really built), you'll notice that it's structured to facilitate the control of the staff by the inmates, and not the other way around. I don't mean in a physical sense, but rather in a psychological one. Either by design or by careful manipulation by a long series of dark geniuses, Arkham is a place where the least insane are trapped with the most insane in an environment that facilitates their ruthless manipulation.
I mean, if you'll allow me the cross-fandom quote, if you have to interact with the Joker every day in an environment he's highly familiar with, who's trapped with whom? Who's changing whom? Which side is inside?