"In a mad world, only the mad are sane" – Akira Kurosawa
I sat in the chair of judgement, with the juries of the insane jeering at me. It was complete chaos, and I couldn't help but fear for my own life. There was no escape, but the pending fate of exile or death.
We all heard the stories throughout the months since Bane's attack. The rich, powerful and elite all being rounded up like dogs, to be judged in a court of debauchery only to be met with a bloodied fate.
Reason and logic didn't exist here anymore.
The judge's hammer echoed loudly in the hall, and I remained perfectly still. I sat upright in the chair and stared blankly at the man whom everybody nowadays referred to as Scarecrow.
But I knew him as Dr. Jonathan Crane.
"You are brought forth to be sentenced for your crimes today!" he yelled triumphantly, to which the crowd roared in excitement.
"I wasn't aware I had broken any laws," I calmly replied.
Only a thin piece of glass separated me from Arkham's most insane men, and yet it comforted me that such a trivial thing would keep me safe from my patients. Most of them never made eye contact with me, while the very few always tried to insult me. After years of running this place, I'd quickly learnt to mentally separate myself from them; to build a mask so they could never undermine me.
But there was always one who always saw through me – and he always left me exposed.
"Good morning Dr. Crane," I said plainly.
"Lovely to see you again too, Doctor," he said delightfully, though his eyes remained perfectly focussed on the book he was reading.
His ice blue eyes darted up and stared intently at me, as if he had been waiting for me. Only the security glass separated me from the once respected Dr. Crane – and even though I should have felt safe, I felt like I was looking into the barrel of a gun.
"Oh I believe you know perfectly what you're being sentenced for. Declaring the sane insane and the insane sane! You've declared to the world you're an expert, that you know the mechanics of the human mind. A fabrication of lies to the public. Taking advantage of the disadvantage? Curing those who need not to be cured? Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. You should have known better, Doctor."
I immediately stood up, to which I heard the sounds of the safety triggers going off beside me. There was no glass between Dr. Crane and me this time. No security to hide behind and no mask to protect me.
I was completely exposed, and my demons were beginning to emerge.
"How are you today Jonathan?"
"Peachy," he replied, before returning to his book.
I sat in the chair that was placed by one of the attendees in the hall and waited patiently for Arkham's former resident psychiatrist to talk. Jonathan Crane was one of the brightest doctors the academic world had ever seen, and long ago, I once looked up to him as a mentor and teacher when I was in college at Gotham University. But everybody was naïve and innocent once upon a time. And my blind infatuation and trust had nearly gotten me killed.
I knew better now. Behind his charming face and sharp tongue, was a master manipulator of the mind.
"Any nightmares lately, doctor?" he curiously asked.
I put down my pen and looked up. Dr. Crane had now pulled his chair right up to the security glass, his book now neatly placed back on his desk.
"I've been sleeping soundly," I replied.
"Really? No dreams about scarecrows? I somehow remained unconvinced."
The flashes of the burlap mask appeared before my eyes, and the twisted voice threatened to echo in my ears. A slight shiver trailed down my spine, and the haunted memory of my early years working at Arkham threatened to surface.
But my face remained perfectly still and calm.
"No, Dr. Crane...not anymore. The scarecrow doesn't scare me anymore."
Bane's takeover of Gotham had changed everything. The chaos on the streets grew more violent every night, and the raids on the houses made everybody fearful for their lives. The police were nowhere to be found, and so the citizens of Gotham either remained safely locked away in their houses, praying for some miracle to save them.
But the hope for that miracle grew dimmer and dimmer was the months went on, and as each day passed I grew more tired and exhausted; tired of fighting my dark shadows and resisting my predetermined fate.
"So what will it be? Death or Exile?"
The crowd pound their feet on the ground, making the entire room vibrate. In a monotonous tone, the words 'death' echoed and engulfed her ears. They all resented her, hated her for who she was. She kept them locked up in those cells at Arkham Asylum, trying to understand their insanity; trying to turn them sane.
She took a huge gulp, seeing almost no way out of her fate. Either way, it seemed like death was just around the corner.
They had taken her in the early hours of the morning, ambushed on the streets, leaving her little time to process what was happening. Since Gotham's descent into anarchy, she was convinced to join the resistance, and began to aid Commissioner Gordon and his young detective into taking Gotham back. She thought she was careful, but it seemed that Dr. Crane and his men knew her every step.
"I'm not a coward anymore, Jonathan. I learnt to battle the demons and keep them locked up…the same demons you're battling with."
"So how do you know?"
"Know what?"
It was one the mind games he liked to play once in a while – it was what he was good at. "How do you know that I'm the insane one and you're not? How do you know it isn't the other way around? Same demons, same fears. I accept them, yet you don't…so how do you know?"
"I'm not the one locked up away in a cell."
"And I'm not the one who screams scarecrow at night. How can you judge the insane, if you're insane yourself? So you see doctor…you've no right to judge me when you're just like me."
I remained silent, trying my best to outsmart my former mentor, but his smiled had already told me the verdict. He stood up from his chair and picked up his book again, a sign that our session had now ended.
The hammer collided with his desk once more, and he stared intently at me, challenging me to accept my fate.
I took a gulp and looked at the crowd, where hundreds of wild eyes looked me, awaiting for my answer. I saw blurs of former patients, and criminals that I helped put away all waiting for their chance to devour my very existence.
But this was nothing like the fear I once had for the scarecrow that plagued my dreams that Dr. Jonathan Crane gave me. This was nothing compared to the torment and pain he put me through, and the years of rehabilitation it took to overcome my demons he implanted in me. The antidote for Dr. Crane's toxin came too late for me, so I was left to battle my demons in my own way.
The screams of my younger self echoed in my mind, and I could picture my tired body and spirit lying on the floors of Arkham with his menacing figure hovering above me, whispering his name over and over again. I could see myself huddling in a corner, whispering over and over again that forbidden name.
Scare…crow….
My judgment day had finally come, and in a bittersweet ending…I felt relieved that it was all over. It meant I didn't have to fight it anymore.
"You created me, then it is only fit you destroy me," I told him, "I choose death, but only by your hand."
He caught himself before the hammer slammed against the table sealing my fate. His expression slightly faltered, and I quickly caught the look of hesitation in his eyes.
"Only the insane choose death," he replied.
"Then declare me insane and I shall live."
"Wanting to live is for the sane only."
The game had begun once again, and strangely enough I welcomed his cryptic words with open arms, as if I was greeting an old friend.
"Then condemn me to death," I repeated.
The room felt suddenly smaller, and the noise of our audience had seemingly disappeared from my ears, and their faces blurred from my view. At that moment, it felt like another session between the doctor and I – only this time, there was no glass and no protection.
"Do you admit to your own insanity then?" he asked.
"The scarecrow never left," I said quietly.
"I told you there was no escaping him," he said triumphantly. "You can't escape your own demons."
"Only death will free us. So grant it to me and let it all be done, Jonathan."
My sanity was slipping, and I could feel his presence emerging from my dark corners, threatening to engulf me once again. The mask was disappearing, and I could no longer keep him contained no longer.
Scare….crow…..
The judge's hammer rose above his head; ready to strike the table seal give its final verdict. His ice blue eyes looked into hers, and for a small moment, she thought she saw the Dr. Jonathan Crane before his mad descent into insanity.
The guns were raised to her head, ready to fire the fateful bullet that would end her life, and grant her the freedom she had longed for.
She closed her eyes, waiting for her fate. The hammer slammed, and the crowd roared.
She smiled to herself.
Sooner or later, you begin to question your own sanity.