In The Eye of the Beholder | Jonathan Crane

July 2004

The strain of time tore us apart

It's not what we want but it's where we are

And I know the fault is partly mine

I miss those nights that we'd talk for hours

About our dreams and our desires

But all that's gone and all that's left is bitterness

-Closure (Hayley Warner)

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I stared up at the dark, imposing figure of Arkham Asylum. From a distance, it was scary. Up close, it was terrifying. I almost wished Paul had chosen someone else for this project. I also did not want to be the one to approach Dr. Jeremiah Arkham for the topic.

Paul assigned me to speak with the doctors that worked in Arkham. He'd gotten a tip from a source saying unorthodox methods of rehabilitation were being used. Of course, he wanted it investigated. And the night prior, I'd been the unlucky one to be picked for this assignment.

I took a breath and forced myself to walk up the stairs and through the doors. It was worse inside than out. The building was dark, even with the lights on. I heard screaming coming from a different section of the building. My hands started shaking. Doctors and nurses walked past without acknowledging me. I was unnerved by their attitudes. I felt invisible. Invisible and afraid.

"Excuse me," I said to a woman, most likely a nurse, passing by me. "Could you tell me how to get to the director's office?"

She gave me a blank stare.

"I think I'm expected. I'm a journalist from the Gazette. I'm supposed to meet with Dr. Jeremiah Arkham," I tried to explain.

"Down the hall and to the left," she finally said after a moment's pause. She turned and walked away quickly.

"Thanks," I called to her back.

I thought she was rather rude.

I followed the woman's directions and sure enough, came to a door with his name written in frosted glass. I knocked on the door.

"Come in," a higher pitched male voice instructed. I opened the door and stuck my head inside. A slightly balding man sat at a desk in the middle of the office. I moved deeper inside and closed the door behind me. It was worse in here than out there. I felt trapped in here.

"Dr. Arkham?" I said his name hesitantly. He rifled through a stack of papers before saying anything.

"Amber Connery? The journalist?" he asked. I nodded.

"Why are you here? I received news that you were hoping to interview one of my doctors."

To be fair, it wasn't me that was hoping to. But Paul was.

"That's correct, sir."

"About what, if I may ask," he said as he stared at me. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He seemed to stare down at me. I shifted uncomfortably. That was the one question I was hoping he wouldn't ask.

"My uh, my boss got a-um, a tip from someone. S-Saying, um" I paused, realizing I was making myself seem like an idiot. It was his fault though. He didn't have to stare me down. I quickly threaded my fingers through my hair.

"He heard that unorthodox methods were being used here," I finished quickly.

"Unorthodox methods?"

"He didn't elaborate," I muttered.

"I'm afraid you were told wrong, Ms. Connery. Our methods are perfectly conventional, I assure you," Dr. Arkham promised. The way he said it made it seem like it was an innocent mistake. The tone made it clear that was not what he thought.

I wanted to get out. The air was suffocating me.

Fuck the story.

"I understand, sir. I apologize for wasting your time," I said, backing toward the door. He stared at me without saying anything. I assumed that meant I could let myself out.

I left without saying anything else.

The moment I closed the door and turned, I ran into someone. Just like the week before. Except for this time they didn't drop anything.

"Jesus, I'm so sorry. I need to watch where I'm going..." I trailed off, realizing who'd I just run into.

"Hello, Amber."

"Hey, Jonathan," I muttered, staring up at him.

Had he always been this tall? Or had he grown taller? Had I gotten shorter?

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"Here, as in Arkham? Or as in Gotham?" I asked.

"Both."

"I got a job here. In the city, I mean. I see you did too. I mean, I heard you did anyway last week, from a Dr. Leland. And I'm here to get a story. At least I was," I explained.

"Ah, I see," he glanced down at his watch. "I have a session in five minutes, I must be off. Have a good day, Amber."

"You too," I said. He left.

I heard more screaming. I almost sprinted out of the asylum.

I sat in my car in the parking lot. I had my head down on the wheel. My hands were shaking in my lap. I hated this place. I hated it.

Jonathan seemed so bitter. But also indifferent. More indifferent than in our adolescent years. Our meeting was short, but I could see he was different.

Maybe it was just the asylum that made it seem that way. It's haunting environment twisting my perception. Maybe it was me being nervous. Or maybe it was who he was.

I raised my hands to my head. They wouldn't stop shaking. Dr. Arkham said their methods were conventional. I found that hard to believe. Not with the way the place looked and how the doctors and nurses acted. Things were off, that much I could tell. But I didn't want to go back. I didn't want to hear the screaming again. Not the screams of the insane. I wouldn't be able to handle it.

Paul would understand. Hopefully. I had told him about my fear.

But I'd also promised that it wouldn't interfere with my work.

It was a stupid fear. Loud noises. How many people were afraid of something like that? How many people were afraid of a sound? I hated that was what I was scared of. It was ridiculous.

My hands finally stopped shaking. I breathed in and out deeply, started my vehicle, and finally drove out of the parking lot. Arkham remained in my rearview mirror. Then an idea came to mind. Something I should have thought about earlier.

Maybe Jonathan could get me my story. All I had to do was talk to him.

If I could talk to him.

"Easy, Amber. It'll be easy," I muttered to myself.

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A/N: So another chapter this week! I had this done, so I thought I'd post it in return for not posting periodically lately! Hope you enjoy this chapter. And to be honest, this has probably been my favorite chapter to write so far.