Chapter 21
Inside the mind
It was a nightmare.
The door opened up into a living room. Jackson had thankfully switched on the lights. I wasn't sure how it still worked.
The state in which I found the living room, it didn't appear anyone had lived there in a long time. Maybe Jackson came here from time to time?
To do what I wonder!
The room smelt musky and old, and creepily of death.
I wasn't sure why I felt that, but the pungent smell of violence and death was making me choke.
I looked at Jackson and shivered once again.
His whole body language had changed.
His expression changed from reminiscences to recollection of something terrible, something that was beyond our reach but was very much present.
He looked across the hall at the closet which seemed to be locked.
He looked at it once and turned towards me
"That's where I kept my play things…"
I don't know why but it made my stomach churn with fear. He must have noticed it too. His expression immediately changed to that of a jovial child, finally successful at doing something right.
"Would you like to see my …. "He stopped
"Room"
I was pretty sure he was going to say something else. I certainly didn't want to see whatever he wanted me to see.
"Sure Jackson "
He looked genuinely happy at my response
"This way please"
He led me up the staircase adjoining the hall. It led up into an attic.
The door was closed.
Locked.
He looked under the mattress, found the key and opened it.
And in we walked.
The attic was turned into a bedroom of sorts.
A bed.
A desk.
A couple of chairs.
One book shelf.
All covered in dust now.
The walls were barren. There was not a single thing on them.
A poster.
Or a picture.
Anything that could make the attic seem less like a cell and more like a room.
Something was bugging me .
Then I realized.
There wasn't any window either.
There was a skylight up above and a small opening higher up in the wall.
But it wasn't big enough to be qualified as a window.
What sort of childhood did Jackson have?
He was standing close watching me intently with his sapphires.
Husband or not it still made me uneasy.
I began to rummage through the bookshelf.
Old text books.
Reference books.
Encyclopedia.
Not a single novel.
I flipped through the pages. These books were meant for pretty advanced students I gathered.
I put them down and looked through the drawers.
Nothing.
Empty .
barren.
I looked through them all.
I hit the bull's eye when I hit the last one. My hands found something solid. I pulled it out. It was an old faded black and white picture of two kids, about 5 years old. Twins.
Their faces couldn't have been more similar.
It was taken so long ago the date was almost too blurred to read. But I recognized one thing, Or rather two sets of things at once.
Even black and white pictures couldn't hide the blueness of their eyes. I was in such shock it was difficult for me to breathe.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
But I had to make sure. So I did the next logical thing. I grabbed one of the books and flipped through them again
Jackson crane & Jonathan crane
1985
I wasn't sure how I was supposed to react at this revelation.
My husband has a brother.
A twin brother.
He is criminally insane.
He tried to destroy gotham.
He is still out there, on the loose.
We are in Gotham.
All these chaotic thoughts passed my mind as I stood there, with that stupid book in my hand.
The sun set across the horizon.