Fear
Shh…
Be quiet.
I think I hear them.
I think…
But I don't, not really.
I never do, but truth doesn't matter here.
Arkham is made of lies, to protect silly, silly children who are afraid of the dark.
I don't mind; I'm scared too.
I hear hissy, creepy, crawly things, slithering through my head.
They'll be gone soon; the doctors here have magic pills to make them go away.
They have pills for everything, pretty pills, white, blue, orange, red.
One swallow and the whole world goes away.
I hide the pills for later, sometimes.
Everything is blurry when I take them; my skin turns inside out.
I don't like that.
The big men watch me gulp them down, though.
My jacket's too tight.
It's long, and white. Like a cocoon.
Am I a butterfly?
Do I get to fly away?