Unfortunately, the fact was that I know today was going be busy. Once one criminal becomes aggressive all the rest do, even the most intelligent ones. I sat back in my seat and tried to relax, but that was going to be impossible. David came round the corner with a mug of tea in his hand and gently placed it on my desk. I sighed and gave a smile which made him grin back with what seemed to be pride.
Yes he had done a great deal by bringing me a cup of tea, well he had, tea helps my tolerance levels, but whiskey does the job even better. But right now, I couldn’t bear to be here, it wasn’t David’s fault. lately not being able to sleep seems to be on my mind constantly, making me more and more worried of what I’m afraid of when I do fall asleep, is it the dark and what hides in it, or what the imagination can produce when fear terrorizes you.
I pushed away from my desk and launched myself out of the office door. The determination on my face to find freedom from this mad house was evident enough that no one got in my way. I ran up the flights of stair which led up the roof, as soon as I pushed open the roof door, relief flooded my lungs as fresh air filled them. A thin railing was placed against the edge of the roof; I slowly walked over to it and leaned against it.
Then my first mistake was made. As I pressed my weight more and more against the railing of the hundred year old structure, it gave its breaking creek and snapped. I felt myself falling back, I shut my eyes waiting for the crippling descent down the side of the Arkham criminal wards, and then someone caught me.
The person hand gripped on to my wrist desperately, I opened my eyes to be met with the pair of dark, almost black eyes of Jonathan crane. I didn’t look away from those eyes as the he pulled me up, my foot slipped against the slate tiles, suddenly all I had to rely on was Jonathan Crane the infamous Scarecrow. But this just made Jonathan, grab my other wrist and pull me up with all his strength.
Jonathan stood there, looking at me. His glassy dark eyes didn’t seem to show any emotion, they were just there to patronise you. Finally his eyes flickered up and down me, and then he gave me back my wrists. “Why did you catch me?” my voice gave a slight tremble, as the realization that I was going to die, kicked in.
Jonathan smirked slightly, and paced closer to the edge of the roof, “well if I was at the scene of the tragic fall of a first aider, they would say I pushed you, also the fact you helped me when I first came to Arkham as a patient.” I nodded, tears were forming at the corners of my eyes as realization, began to hit me with its full strength. Suddenly I collapsed to my knees, my body was exhausted and in shock.
My breath came out in jaggered gasps as my mind kept replaying the feeling of my impending death. I couldn’t look up at Jonathan, as he would probably enjoy the sight of pain, he was the scarecrow he got a buzz off other people’s fears, why not pain as well, like all the other criminals in Arkham. Instead he kneeled beside me; he grabbed my shoulders, and looked me dead in the eye.
I noticed he had changed a lot since in first entrance into Arkham as a criminal. He was no long skinny and twig like; he had become muscular and lean, and a man who knew how to fight, and how to strike fear, not just with his fear toxin. From time to time lunatics would be sent to me with brutal injuries, from Jonathan because of fights they started with him.
I looked at Jonathan, whose eyes had softened, into what looked like sympathy, “This is what I was like when I first came to you remember? Shaking, and had the feeling of death looming over my shoulder, yet I was a lot bloodier than you are right now.” I gave a small distorted laugh, and started to take deep breaths, I opened my mouth to utter some word but it came out as a small whimper, Jonathan smirked gently and looked at me waiting for my answer.
“I can remember that day very well, many of Joker’s old goons had decided to teach you a lesson due to the fact they were affected by the fear toxin. You had three broken fingers, a cut open lip as well as a torn up tongue and cheek and a broken nose.” The light that shone showed the slight yet neat scars left from my stitching. He laughed again, “Yep, I was a mess mind, it was your handy work which really helped me, and without you I would have a torn apart mouth a broken nose and well very odd looking fingers.
Jonathan stood up, and reached out a hand for me to grab, and I took it willingly. He gave a chuckle and smirked again, “Don’t tell anyone that I was up here.” I nodded as he walked away.