(Don't Fear) The Scarecrow

A Long Night

A/N: This was semi based off of actually something that happened to me. Admittingly I have a really vivid and often bad imagination so yeah.... an interesting result here...

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It was happening again. Curled up on the floor, staring blankly at the wall in front of you. Something was wrong, you didn't know what exactly, just that something was. Your stress levels had been higher than normal, maybe having to deal with the fact that you spent time with your family. You loved them, but as family often goes, they get on your nerves quickly.

They were going on about the state of things in your life, how you were an adult and thus should act like one. You didn't have to listen to them though, the next day you knew you'd no longer have to see them until Christmas.

It wasn't just the nagging of your parents on you even though you were an adult and fully capable of taking care of yourself, even in such a place as Gotham; your parents didn't raise no clueless girl, after all. Rather, it was the criticisms on your life. Your choices, who you were dating, it was the very reason you never told them any of that stuff, and yet, you had to tell someone and when no friends where around to tell, your family was unfortunately the ones you went to, mostly your parents.

You rest your head against the wall and sigh. Jonathan was around somewhere, you didn't know where. Maybe in his lab, or asleep. You didn't know because the hall you were in had no clock to tell time. It was late, or early depending on how you looked at it. You recalled when you'd first sat out here it's been around one in the morning. You didn't know what time it was now. It was nearly as torturous as solitary in Arkham, not that you'd know of that experience personally, just from what Jonathan had told you.

You bite your lip and hit your head lightly against the wall.

Bang.

Why where you even here?

Bang.

It was useless.

Bang.

Just like you.

You still as you hear voices. Stop banging the back of your head against the wall at the sound you could've sworn was Jonathan's voice as well as others. They were indistinguishable, the only thing you knew, at least partly, was that there were voices. Only a soft mummer, barely even that could be heard. Your ears strain to hear what they are saying, but each time you grasp for them, they disappear.

Turning your focus to the floor rather than the wall, you draw your knees up and wipe at your eyes as a few stray tears fall. Why is this happening to you? Were you finally cracking under the pressure?

Stop crying, you tell yourself, or at least you think it's yourself. The voice sounds like you, not something foreign, a sure sign of something else going on.

You bite your lip and keep crying regardless.

Stop crying.

The tears slowly stop, and you're left with a stuffy nose. It's hard to breathe now.

"Help me," you mumble, "please."

"With what?" you reply, to yourself. You can't help it, no one would help you, so you had to help yourself, and you told yourself such.

"I don't know... just help. Jonathan, I need your help."

"I cannot help you child unless you tell me what's wrong," you mumble your own reply, but it sounds like him. Well, it's in your head so it mostly sounds like you, but not quite. Certainly your first reactions to what you're saying aloud is something or someone (most likely yourself) replying in instinct.

You resume banging your head against the wall, pausing every now and then when you hear the voices. You're positive you hear someone move behind the door you are sitting next to. It's just a plain wooden door, but no one opens it at the sound of your banging.

Bang.

You wonder if the voices are a symptom of you hitting you head against the wall or from a lack of sleep. You're so tired yet you can't sleep.

Bang.

You sees large red orange spots in your field of vision. Maybe you should stop.

Bang.

"Stop," you say.

Bang.

You can't stop, or won't.

Bang.

Stop. A slightly different voice now, your own yet not. You still, stopping to pause, crying again.

Don't hurt yourself, what you've deemed your conscious to be saying.

You close your eyes, the normal blues lights dancing behind your eyelids a fiery red. You assume it's from the lights above your head.

You rest your head in your arms and feel a phantom arm wrap around your shoulders. Leaning into it, you find you don't even have to pretend, the solid force is there.

The solid force....

With difficulty you pull yourself out of your trance, no idea how long you've been sitting there. Turning your head slightly, you see Jonathan there. Real, not just a figment of your imagination.

He hugs you to him, "Don't hurt yourself."

You shiver as you realize that you didn't even realize that it was him that's been talking to you, getting through to you.

"S-Sorry, you stutter with a hiccup before you start crying again.

Jonathan runs his fingers through your hair. "You're going to be alright."

"W-What time...."

"3:30 in the morning," Jonathan says slowly.

Two and a half hours. It seemed shorter. Time is fucked, without a clock you lose track of it. Alone, in solitary, losing all feeling of one's self. Solitary yet not officially. A self put in solitary, not a punishment for being bad, unless you were to yourself.

"(Y/n)," Jonathan says, tugging your arm."Stay with me."

It was going to be a long night.