Chapter 4
And When You Pray, I'll Pray With You
Pray with me, momma.
Jane lay on her back in her dark, 'private' room. Faint light from the hallway shone a rectangle above her head, vaguely illuminating the sparse furnishings. Her room at home – her real home – was full of clutter, clothing and posters. Comfort. She had little of that here.
When she was a little girl, her mother had taught her how to pray. It had comforted her then as much as having her mother here now would. This time, she couldn't stop herself. Jane cried, trying to keep herself quiet, trying to keep one thing private in this place. She feared the camera hidden in the ceiling; what would showing this weakness bring tomorrow? Dr. Crane would pick up on that, for sure. After her session today, she knew he was a predator, with secret motives and techniques. He stalked the hallways with his shining blue eyes, his calculated cruelty, his strange obsessions. Arkham was his haunt, and everyone inside was his prey.
She hadn't seen him again after her therapy. She'd been delivered back into the common room, given a new medication, to 'regulate her rest patterns', as Crane had put it. After a few hours spent staring out of windows, trying to figure herself out, she'd been put to bed early. She was tired. She'd slept since then, had awakened in an unfamiliar cold sweat a few minutes ago. She'd been dreaming, she was sure of it…but what had she dreamed of?
She was afraid to close her eyes again, for fear of finding out. She tasted bitter copper in her mouth; licking, she realized that her lips were so chapped they bled. When had that happened? All signs seemed to point to her still being in the bad dream. When was her heart going to slow down again? Why couldn't she stop thinking of the park that night? The thick dark air, the curious blur that was the man's face. She could remember what he looked like at the trial; but before that, the first time they'd met, his identity while he attacked her – suddenly, that was a mystery.
She thought of the attacker now, in her cold and sterile prison; in her memory, he seemed inhuman. His presence that night had been like a demon walking the Earth, and although she knew visually that that man and Dr. Crane were polar opposites, she still could not erase the feeling of familiarity between the two. Was Crane a monster…a devil, too? Now, where had that thought come from….?
She took a deep breath, managing to overcome her fit of sadness. She would get home again; after all, she would be eighteen soon. Surely then she could do something to help herself? Until that day, a few months away, she would play along with him, her greatest captor, and in doing so try to keep her head above water.
Be strong, she thought. Be strong, and pray.
Despite her tension, Jane's weariness again won, and darkness soon overtook her vision. This time, her sleep was dreamless.