They Scream and They Cry >> (Scarecrow/OC fanfiction)

Chapter 2

The rattling sound of a solid metal door closing tears Riot from her precious sleep, bringing about a terrible hangover with it.

"On your feet!" The same guard from the day before shouts, slamming a hand against the door.

She lets out an inhuman groan and turns to look at the miserable sod who woke her up.

Before she can get anything out he hauls her to her feet, and puts her in cuffs. He's nothing short of rough as he shoves her back out of the door and down the hall.

Riot feels as if her skull if being crushed by a vice, and the fluorescent lights of the asylum burn her eyes. She keeps her head down as they walk, her eyelids heavy and tired. Before she registers where they're going she's shoved into a squeaky leather chair in an office.

"Good morning, Miss Quinzel," A sterile and professional sounding voice greets. Her eyes drag up painfully to be greeted by the sight of a pale young man with ice cold blue eyes. His mop of dark hair is neatly combed, and his eyes are framed by small glasses that oddly enough suit him.

He looks nothing short of professional in his grey suit and tan sweater, which makes Riot uncomfortable. Whatever this man is here for, it can't possibly be good.

"Piss off," She murmurs, slumping down further in the seat.

"My name is Dr. Jonathan Crane, I'm the head psychiatrist here at Arkham." Riot can practically hear the arrogance in his tone.

"What do you want?" She hisses, meeting his eyes from behind her mess of blonde hair.

"I would like to ask you a few questions."

Riot glares viciously at him, her head is pounding and she feels as if she's going to be sick, but he is still annoying her. She huffs an annoyed sigh as she sits up, already knowing that theres no way in hell she's about to cooperate.

Dr. Crane has an open file on his desk in front of him, her file. He scribbles something down on a piece of paper before looking back up to her.

"Today you will begin your rehabilitation here at Arkham, and if all goes well, you will eventually be transferred to Black Gate to serve out the rest of your time," His features are cold and unwavering, and the very air surrounding him screams 'Condescending Prick!'

She would have responded with a snide comment had she not been too busy thinking about how she's going to get her next fix. Her hands begin to tremble on top of the table again, and she fidgets anxiously in her seat.

I need something.
Anything.
Even a fucking cigarette would be good enough at this point!

She was screaming internally, aching painfully to fulfill her vices.

"Miss Quinzel are you listening to what I'm saying?" Dr. Crane's voice cuts through her thoughts, bringing her back into reality.

"Unfortunately," She stares momentarily into his icy blue orbs, before fixating her gaze back on the desk.

"Good. Now as I was saying, I will be asking you a series of questions to which you must answer truthfully and as clearly as possible. It is for your own sake that you cooperate," He adjusts his glasses on his face, before looking down at her file.

"M'kay," She fakes an innocent smile, already plotting her plan of attack. She's a Quinzel, he should already know that nothing is going to be easy with her. She'll turn anything into a game or spectacle for her own amusement if she's was bored, which she so agonizingly is.

"Please state your full name and your profession," He glances between her and her file, waiting for her answer.

"My full name is Rory Marlow Quinn and I am a professional pain in the ass." She grins at a very unamused Dr. Crane.