The Skin That Crawls From You [A Jonathan Crane Fan-fiction]

You Wont Feel a Thing.

The guards finally strap me down to the gurney. A fresh burning sting radiates across my cheek. While fighting, I had managed to get ahold of one of the guard's biceps in my mouth, so I bit down, hard. In turn, I was slapped across the face painfully and slammed onto the gurney. The blonde haired woman stepped back, eyes wide.

"Dont hurt her!"
She called.

But it didn't matter. She would learn this quickly.

The guards strap me down and wheel me out to the hall. As we go, i notice a large portion of the floor is roped off by yellow police tape. Behind the tape, a door is wide open with a splatter of sear marks on it's lock. I crane my head to investigate but I'm wheeled away before I can see a thing.

What had happened last night? A plague of bats, that assistant district attorney questioning crane, the police?

We stop with a jolt at the end of the corridor.

"I'll be right back boys, I gotta fire up the machine. Can you stay here with her?"
The woman asks. I'm assuming she's a doctor now, with her white lab coat, happily bossing the Arkham guards around.

I hear a door latch, and I watch the mildew coated ceiling.

"I gotta fire up the machine."
She had said.
Machine?

"I can't believe he's out,"
One of the guards says, they both stand by my feet, almost impossible to see with my head strapped down.

"He was an absolute quack, belongs here; if you ask me."

"I just can't believe he got caught- I was really enjoying all that hush money."

Crane.

"I heard they put him in a straight jacket."
One of the guards chuckle.

"I wouldn't be surprised."
The other replies.

"Alrighty! All done."
The cheery doctor says, the creak of a door proceed her footsteps.

"I can take it from here."

The sound of boots on tile echo down the corridor as i'm wheeled into a private room. Inside, I hear a faint mechanical whir and an electric hum. I look around frantically, meeting the doctor's ocean blue eyes just above me.

"I'm Doctor Harleen Quinzel. You may call me Dr. Quinzel,"
She says before bustling over to tend to something on the other side of the room.

"I took over for doctor- well, I think it's better we don't mention him. I'm sure he's a trigger for you. All you need to know now, is that I'm here to help you."
She calls cheerfully.

"Where did they take him?"
I ask.

"It's best we keep today's session focused on you."

"Where is he?"
I demand.

"He's getting the help he needs,"
She says, walking cot-side, two metal objects attached to rubbery cords in her dainty hands.

"Here? In Arkham?"
I ask, ignoring the unusual objects and their electrical humming just above my face.

"You're safe here,"
She reiterates, firmly this time.

"I'm not afraid of him."

She stops for a moment.
"No?"

"Just tell me where he is."

"Miss Alcott, I know you were his favorite patient. I know you experienced the brunt of his 'experiments'."
The word hisses off her tongue like a poison.

"But revenge isn't going to help you get better, and I'm afraid he won't be making amends any time soon, so it's best if you just forget."

Revenge? I don't want revenge. I want him.

Hot tears well in my eyes.

"I'm going to inject you with anesthesia. After you're asleep, I'll be using these two conductors to course streams of electricity into your brain. This will help with the memories. You won't feel a thing."
She says kindly.

Before I can say another word, yet another needle is wedged into my arm, and I find myself drifting away.