No longer the target of Gotham's underground criminal organization, 21 year old Ianthe Thatcher has set herself free of the burden that put a price on her head.
But Jonathan Crane, her murderous lover, has just been imprisoned under dark, severe ch...
As I laid in bed, I began to think about what had transpired between Jonathan and I earlier that day. I thought of his moaning, the cuffs cutting into the back of my neck...and soon in a drunken lust, my fingers found their way between my legs.
✣
A sudden bright light jerked me from my sleep. Panting, I desperately tried to comprehend my surroundings.
I wasn't in my apartment.
I tried to move, but I couldn't. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized I was bound at my wrists and ankles, strapped to a hospital bed. Panic seized control of my body as I tried to rip away from the leather straps. What the fuck was going on?
The rest of the room was dark except for the circle of light that ominously beamed above me and the bed I was strapped to.
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Then ensued terrible, dark laughter.
The Joker.
But another voice followed. It was deep and electronic, like it was coming from a voice changer.
I watched with horror as two figures stealthily emerged from the shadows engulfing the room. I recognized the long, stringy hair and the scarred, Glasgow smile that comprised of Joker's features. And his laugh...my blood ran cold. His beady eyes ravaged me as he stalked closer.
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I almost cried out when I recognized what the other one was wearing: hideous, burlap scarecrow mask.
Jonathan.
"What's going on?" I pleaded. The men only grew closer. "Get away from me!" I raged, adrenaline coursing through my veins. Joker continued to laugh manically while Scarecrow remained silent.
Once he approached me, Scarecrow—Jonathan, gripped my face tightly. A tear ran down my cheek.
"Help me."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Ianthe..." the deep, unfamiliar voice rasped.
And before another moment passed, I was being sprayed by the same kind of aerosol can I had seen in Crane's office all those months ago. He was doing to me what he had done to Eric.
Fear overtook my body, but not any kind of fear I had experienced before. I could feel myself disorientating, loosing my grip on reality. I screamed as the room around me morphed and ripped away my sanity.
But something shiny caught my eye.
The Joker had a knife.
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"Why so serious?" He cooed, and placed the sharp metal on the corner of my mouth, slowly dragging it upward.
Blackness swirled around me.
I awoke in a screaming fit, cold sweat drenching my body and sheets. I got up and looked around frantically. Home, I was home.
It was all just a dream...
A very bad dream.
✣
The next few days dragged on. I had other clients to see, so I wouldn't be visiting Jonathan or Joker again until Thursday. But I was shaken from my dream, on edge. Like whatever toxic that Scarecrow had released was still trickling through my veins.
I had considered getting back on my anxiety medication that I had run out of a few weeks ago and was unable to pick up due to my life-threatening on situation. But I realized that no prescription would soothe the feelings from what I had experienced...been subjected to. What I continued to endure.
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I also needed my mind sharp and unaffected by any suppressants. I had to be careful and calculated with everything that I did and said.
I still needed to figure out how I was going to get Jonathan out of this hell.
