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

You're drunk in my house.

When I woke up in the morning, Crane was gone, and his side of the bed was made to perfection. I'm assuming he was at work, so I had his house all to myself for awhile.

Turns out half a bottle of Jack doesn't even last you very long when theres not a TV to entertain.

At around 2:00 I left in my car to go grab alcohol, a change of clothes, and a stereo. When I got back to Crane's house he still wasn't there, so I took a shower.

How long does he work? I had absolutely no concept of time whilst in my cell at Arkham.

Once dressed in shorts, a Metallica shirt, and an oversized cardigan, I plugged in the stereo and started dancing to music. Soon enough I was drinking as well, turning it into a one woman party.

That was 5 hours and 2 bottles ago.

I'm a quarter of a way into a big bottle of my favorite, Jameson, and smoking in the house. Surely Dr. Crane will be pissed when he comes home, but I'm too drunk to care.

I took another swig from the bottle, dancing drunkenly to Bikini Kill. My hips swaying along to the erotic beat, hands running up and down my body.

"I'm the little girl at the picnic

Who won't stop pulling her dress up

It doesn't matter whose in control now

It doesn't matter 'cause this is new radio!" My music was up so loud the neighbors could probably hear it clearly, so imagine my surprise when suddenly it cut off.

I whipped around to see Crane holding the unplugged cord in his hand, glaring at me. I took a large gulp of the no longer burning liquid in the bottle before stumbling towards him.

"What the f-fuck, Jonny boy?!" I hiccuped, clearly not happy in my intoxicated haze.

"Do not call me that." He snapped, voice still at a normal level.

"Oh liven up!" I took another swig and took a drag off the cigarette.

"You've been smoking inside my house?" His eyes looked dangerous, and I could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

"Yeahh." I replied in a 'duh' tone that probably wasn't helping my case any.

"Are you drunk?" He grabbed my face, forcing me to look at him, "you're on drugs aren't you?! What did you take." The disgust in his tone brought back the pang in my chest, causing me to let out a pathetic whimper.

"What did you take?!" He shook me by the shoulders.

"I-I don't know! Like two bars of Xanax!" I pushed him off of me, not liking how rough he was getting.

"God, Riot! You're so stupid! How did I think I could trust you here alone for a few hours." He ran his hand through his perfectly combed hair, messing it up completely.

"Fine! Fuck you too!" Before he realized what I was doing, I had my keys and was almost out the door. A tight grip on my injured hand caused me to stop and turn around quickly.

"You cant leave you're intoxicated!" He tried to pull me back into the house, causing me to scream in pain. With a harsh shove to his chest I sent him stumbling backwards.

"Don't fucking touch me, Crane!" I was stark raving mad and drunker than hell.

I turned around and ran out of the small house, Jonathan calling for me to come back before I killed myself.

The amount of anger in his tone was unbelievable, so I waisted no time in hopping into the Range Rover. He ran out of the house, trying to stop me, but I had already peeled out of the drive way on screeching tires.

I was so angry my foot was like lead on the pedal, and my steering was all over the place. I had no clue as to where I was going, but I just knew I needed to get away from him.

I looked in the rear view mirror, seeing his black Audi tearing up behind me. Why is he following me?! Why cant he just leave me be for a few fucking hours?!

I pressed on the pedal harder, speeding down the highway with him right behind me. As I came to a four way intersection I refused to stop, but I knew this was a huge mistake when I heard the sound of squealing tires and saw headlights.

Suddenly everything was black, and all noise was muffled. I heard unfamiliar voices, and tried to open my eyes. They were open, but everything was blurry and out of focus.

My ears were ringing, and my head felt like someone was trying to bash it in with a bloody hammer. My eyes slowly came into focus, and the voices got louder, now I could actually hear what they were saying.

An elderly woman was above me, trying to dial 911, but none other than Jonathan crane was trying to stop her.

"Ma'am its okay! Its okay, i'm a doctor! This is my girlfriend i'll take care of her. I got it!" He lied smoothly. Finally she put her cellphone away and stared down at me in concern.

I realized I was laying on the wet asphalt, my whole body aching, and sirens in the distance.

"J-Jonathan? What happened?" My voice was weak due to being in a lot of pain.

"We have to get you out of here! The police are on their way!" He started to pick me up, but a sharp pain shot through my abdomen.

"Please stop! It hurts!" I clung to his suit jacket, burying my head in his chest.

"I know, but we have to get you out of here. Hold onto me, I need to get you in my car." He picked me up easily once more, and carried me to his car, laying me down in his back seat.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, for the pain was overwhelming. I looked down at myself just before Jonathan placed his jacket over my abdomen.

My shirt was torn to shreds and a gaping wound was torn into the right side of my stomach. Blood was pouring from the open wound, seeping onto his clean cream colored interior.

Within seconds he was tearing back down the highway, towards his house. With every bump he hit, the pain became more excruciating, and my blood pooled through the jacket he had laid over me.

"Jonathan? What happened to me? It hurts so much!" I sobbed, clinging to his hip as he sat in the front seat.

"You were hit by a semi and were impaled on a piece of rebar." His voice sounded rushed and almost panicked.

"I-I'm so sorry!"

"No no no! It's okay sweetheart, we're almost back to the house." The anxiety in his tone made me scared. This must be really bad.

You really fucked up this time, Rory.

"Am I going to die?" My voice was barely audible, and I was honestly surprised that he heard me.

"No, sweetheart, you're not going to die. Stay with me! Stay awake!" He glanced back at me, giving me a reassuring look. He brought one hand down, resting it on top of mine that still rested on his hip.

His hands were stained with my blood, but still remained cold to the touch. Cold just like my body. When did it get so cold in this car? I'm freezing.

"I'm so cold." My voice was shaky with pain, and my breathing was ragged.

"Nooo no no no no. Stay awake, please! We're here just stay awake a little longer." He turned the car off, and ran around to the back. He flung the door open, and picked me up, but I groaned in protest.

As he ran into the house I kept my head buried into the crook of his neck. He smelled like cologne and blood, and somehow I found it very comforting. My eyes were growing heavy as if they weighed a thousand pounds.

He placed me carefully down onto the bed, my blood already staining the white sheets. The second my head hit that pillow, I slipped into the black void.

"Goodnight, Jonathan."