"You know you are boring me," Mrs. Chesterton said.
"If there is one thing I can always count on," said Dr. Crane with an amused grin. "Is your complete honesty with me. I appreciate that."
Mrs. Chesterton sat back in her chair with a bored sigh. This was not what she had expected by Dr. Crane's "unconventional" methods she had wondered about and perhaps had feared when she first agreed on his "help."
She had to admit she was a bit intimidated when the session first started. Unlike being in his comfortable office like on the first visit, she was escorted by Dr. Crane to a relatively stark room – one of the rooms that was dark and locked up further down the hallway. As soon as he flicked on the lights she was terribly disappointed. By the air of drama Crane was promoting, she almost expected it to display shelves of pickled experiments and a full torture chamber. His mysterious aloofness seemed to insinuate some sort of dark secret lurking in one of these locked up rooms. But it was just a small room with bare white walls, no decoration whatsoever, with white tiled floors and a white table.
"Who did your interior decorating? Someone who was color blind," Mrs. Chesterton quipped.
Dr. Crane smiled as he gazed around the room.
"Yes, I guess it could use a bit of color." Then he turned his eyes to her, very serious. "But that would add addition stimuli, wouldn't it? No, best to keep it neutral white. No distractions then."
But as Mrs. Chesterton was sitting in her chair – a thoroughly uncomfortable folding chair compared to that lovely leather chair Dr. Crane had back in his office – she was almost wishing for "additional stimuli." She was just so incredibly bored.
On the blank white wall Dr. Crane was projected different images, one at a time, on slides while making notes on how each image made her feel.
This time the image was a big red ball.
"And how does that make you feel," asked Dr. Crane.
"Like I want to bounce that damn red ball off your head! Can I go now? We've been at this for over an hour."
"Just a bit more, Mrs. Chesterton. Patience is a virtue, as they say."
Although Mrs. Chesterton couldn't see it, Dr. Crane was writing on his notepad:
Patient C. is showing increasing hostility and impatience to said visual stimuli. Hypothesis proving positive on Patient C.'s response. Patient C. almost ready for Stage 2 in treatment.
Dr. Crane decided just for good measure to flash a few more pictures from the projection slide just to make sure his patient was ready for "Stage 2."
He showed her a picture of a large chocolate bar.
"And how does that make you feel," he asked in a low, soft tone.
"Hungry! Which reminds me I'm missing lunch. I want to go . . . now!"
"Very soon, Mrs. Chesterton. You're cooperation will speed your recovery greatly, I assure you . . . And now this."
Up flashed a picture of very jagged and intimidating-looking barbed wire. Mrs. Chesterton frowned when she saw it. Up until now he had been showing her comforting images – toys, people smiling, food and beautiful sunsets. But now was the picture of the barbed wire. How very odd.
"I don't know. I wouldn't want to touch it. It looks sharp."
Dr. Crane jotted down a few notes:
Patient C. expressed trivial statement toward negative stimuli (i.e. barbed wire). Will begin use of Solution B721.
Silently from his open briefcase, Dr. Crane slid out his canvas mask and fixed securely its breathing apparatus to his face while Mrs. Chesterton's back was to him. He began burning the powdered crystals of Solution B721 in a shallow stainless steel dish. He had perfected the solution from its impure form which, when burned, had a sickly saccharine smell. Now it was entirely odorless and perfect to test on his patients.
Mrs. Chesterton squinted and thought she must be tired and maybe a little dizzy from being hungry. It looked like the barbed wire had vibrated a little – that it had moved.
Imagining things again, silly woman. The sooner I'm out of this place and away from that crazy doctor the better.
"What's the next picture? Are we almost done with this," Mrs. Chesterton cried out, trying to ignore the barbed wire which now began to look like it was shivering in the wind.
"Oh, yes, almost done," said Dr. Crane.
Patient C. either is ignoring Solution B721 or is not affected yet at 1:58 minutes. Displaying Slide 0249.
Mrs. Chesterton gave a little yelp, but quickly stifled it.
It was a picture of a swarm of snakes, only instead of the picture being static, the serpents were writhing, flicking their tongues, gazing at her with their coppery slit eyes.
"Is there something wrong," asked Dr. Crane. "How does this make you feel?"
Mrs. Chesterton clutched her chest, struggling to breathe.
"A bit – a bit faint. I – I hate snakes."
Patient C. displays slight form of herpephobia, though not acute. Time 3:15. Patient C. showing increased disorientation.
Almost all the crystals of Solution B721 had burned away into a pure liquid in the steel dish and a thin stream of white smoke rose to the ceiling. Mrs. Chesterton wavered a little in the chair, looking about to pass out.
Not yet, you stupid old hag! Came a primal, guttural voice deep within Crane soul, total devoid of his analytic curiosity. We haven't gotten to the good one yet! I want to hear you scream! I want your Fear!
Crane tried to fight back the Scarecrow, but he knew it would not be long. It was hungry and he knew he could conduct his experiment successfully as well as allowing the Scarecrow a treat this afternoon.
He flashed the last image – an image he thought might push her over the edge – the trigger of her Fear. Mrs. Chesterton's eyes dilated when she saw it and her breathing turned rapid. At first she couldn't scream, her throat was so restricted, then her voice broke free in a shriek so loud Dr. Crane would have been glad the walls were sound proof. But as she began to writhe on the floor screaming, Dr. Crane was no longer there – the Scarecrow was relishing every moment of her agony.
Yes, scream, writhe! Let me savor your agony. You've never really known suffering, you and your petty sorrows. But you shall know Pain, you shall know Terror under me!
Mrs. Chesterton now had curled up into a fetal position, her shrieking dying down to a pathetic wail, her eyes covered by her trembling hands. The Scarecrow was moving close to her, hungry, so hungry for her Fear, wanting to inspire more in her, wanting to relish every last shriek he could wrench from her throat.
No, I will give you more. Dr. Crane told the Scarecrow. I will give you much more than this. Just wait. Wait.
The Scarecrow stopped, hovering over her unconscious form, then turned away. The Scarecrow could wait for now.
Dr. Crane normally felt exhilarated and empowered when the Scarecrow took over. Today he felt exhausted. In some small way Dr. Crane was relieved she had not seen him as the Scarecrow. He almost felt a twinge of guilt as he pulled off the rough canvas mask of the Scarecrow and smoothed out his hair. Carefully he placed the mask back in his briefcase and removed a small vial of clear liquid and crouched by Mrs. Chesterton's unconscious form.
"Breathe in. Breathe in. That's it. Deep breaths."
Mrs. Chesterton gasped and her eyes shot open.
"What happened? I – oh how terrible!"
"A nightmare I'm afraid." Dr. Crane gazed at her, a soothing smile upon his lips. "I'm afraid you fell asleep during our session, then started to scream."
"Oh, my, did I? Oh – I'm sorry. I know I was bored, but I didn't realize . . . Is our session at an end doctor?"
"It is, Mrs. Chesterton. You are free to go."
Dr. Crane invitingly gestured to the door and Mrs. Chesterton without hesitation picked herself up off the floor and shuffled to the door.
"Until our next appointment," said Dr. Crane.
Mrs. Chesterton stopped at the door, gazed briefly into his cool, blue eyes before turning away and swiftly leaving the room.
Dr. Crane gazed at his notepad filled with valuable notes on "Patient C."
Too bad, she was an apt patient and a fascinating study, thought Crane.She won't be back.
(Oh, she will be, said the primal, dark voice within. She will return.)
How can you be so sure, asked Dr. Crane.
(Because she still Fears – she Fears much. Delicious Fear . . . And she will Fear more.)
And what do you Fear, Mrs. Genevieve Chesterton?
Dr. Crane turned to the image projection that started Mrs. Chesterton shrieking uncontrollably. It wasn't a picture of a monster or a murderer, but a woman – a woman standing all alone in complete desolation.