Philophobia (Jonathan Crane, O/C)

Stepping Through Doors

"That's complicated," I say out loud, knowing that if I don't say something they will start to figure out what I'm doing.

'I'm not stupid, love isn't complicated unless you make it,' she writes.

"Well I just want to know how much longer," Alanna smiles, picking up on what I'm trying to do.

"And I'll figure it out and tell you tomorrow," I nod to her, taking the paper and this time shredding it with my hands before throwing it into the trash. "Now bed," I point upstairs to her. Alanna rolls her eyes trudging up the stairs without a second glance behind her.

As soon as I know that she is out of ear shot, I kick the desk with a hard force, closing my eyes tightly and pulling my hair out of the bun it's been stuck in for the last eight hours. I put the hair tie on my wrist and run my fingers through my hair.

"Almost out," I whisper, looking at the calendar sitting behind the desk, saying the wrong year and the wrong month, but something about that comforts me, reminds me that this is wrong, that I am in the wrong place.

July 2010, I can't even remember where I was or what I was doing six years ago.

I sigh, looking around at the room before, walking up the same old wooden staircase to my own bedroom.

'Cassandra,' I hear a scratchy voice say my name, the same voice I have been hearing ever since I got inside Alanna's head.

"Leave me alone," I whisper, moving a little faster down the hallway, knowing I am going to have to pass that room. "You aren't real," I say louder, as if to convince the voice when it's to convince me. 

'You know I am,' the voice says again, this time causing me to look up, Scarecrow stands further down the hallway, looking at me. I stop dead in my tracks, he stands as tall as Jonathan, the mask tightly over his face, dark work pants with a matching suit jacket. He looks so real, I allow my eyes to rake up and down the figure before me before responding.

"That's impossible, Jonathan isn't here so you can't be."

'There you go again my sweet beautiful girl,' he says, moving closer to me, I stand my ground, trying to rationalize that this cannot be real. 'I am real. I'm as real as Jonathan makes me.'

I debate between stepping back, knowing that would only cause the creature to keep inching forward. "He was only here a day, no way that you managed to seep in here as well."

'Is that what the problem is?' The burlap sack smiles, I guess it smiles, somehow unlike Jonathan's mask it can pick up the corners of its mouth.

"No," I respond. "Can you honestly get out of here so that I can sleep?"

He smiles again, 'Oh darling,' his scratchy voice continues. 'I'm here because you want me to be. You're the one who has to tell me to leave.'

I narrow my eyes at him, crossing my arms, "No offense Corn Husk, why would I want you here?"

This causes him to laugh, 'You do know, they believe you are speaking to yourself?'

"They can't hear you?" I breathe in deeply, licking my lips, paranoia sets in at the very idea of what they will do to me.

'I'm speaking to you in your mind, you are speaking to me out loud.'

A sharp shooting pain courses through my entire arm, the scene before me changes as I crumble to the floor unable to focus on keeping myself steady with the increase in the pressure. Bright lights shine through the hallway, transforming to where my body is being kept.

"Although we don't mind when you talk to us Doctor Jackson, we would appreciate if you wouldn't talk about your boyfriend to yourself in the late hours," one of Alexander's doctors says to me.