Jonathan grabbed his suitcase and, with the toxin and mask secure, he headed to Smith's office to see if he could salvage any of his remaining dignity.

He got to the office and, with a stroke of good fortune, he found it unlocked. As he shut the door behind him, he felt his fingers tug at the latch of the suitcase. Stop that! he told the voice. You lost me the internship in the first place! I don't want anymore trouble from you!

Oh, but it would be so much fun to gas him! Come on, please!

NO! And the voice died down a bit. Jonathan heard the doorknob turn and saw Smith standing in the doorway.

"Dr. Smith…" Jonathan began.

"I thought I fired you?" he spit the rhetorical question rather then asking.

"You did, but…" he felt his fingers tug at the latch again. I thought I told you to stop that! he told the voice.

That wasn't me Jonathan, the voice said. I was going to back off and let you do all the talking this time.

Well, then why… Jonathan felt a growing sensation in the pit of his stomach and tried his hardest to ignore the sudden feeling of why he was there.

"There is nothing you can say to get your job back here Crane. If I have my way you will never work in this town again."

"But you see, sir…"

"The only thing I see is a scrawny boy who thinks he can do or say whatever he wants. You know Crane, I knew that you were a mistake from the first day. Remember? I had caught you in a cell with one of the patients. You had just pulled a syringe out of his arm and he wasn't scheduled for another dose of his medication until three ours later."

"I was giving him a sedative, and you are out of line by calling me scrawny."

"You were out of line when you told me all those lies about my family! So, why don't I return the favor and let me tell you what I honestly think of you?"

"I don't think that is necessary…"

"I think you are far too confident in your abilities as a psychiatrist," Jonathan felt his hands tug at the latch again.

"I know the reason you have never been on a date in your life, you are far to creepy! There is not one female in this entire building who would ever date you." Jonathan had to grip the handle of the brief case as tight as he could to restrain himself from opening it and putting on the mask.

"There is a reason they called you Scarecrow when you were little."

Jonathan became outraged and screamed, "Don't you DARE drag that into this conversation!"

"You are tall, gangly, creepy, and have the emotional range of a Scarecrow! In fact you are no better then them! You would do yourself and others a lot of good if you just hung yourself in a field with all of your brothers and sisters! Go on back to your 'family hole'. No one would miss you. Not even your little bitch, Lena."

That was the straw that broke Jonathan's back. Smith could have gone all night insulting Jonathan; Smith probably would have walked out with a few bruises, but with a perfectly sane mind. But as soon as those last few words left Smith's mouth, Jonathan had one motive and one only; to instill the greatest fear of all, and then, kill.

Almost as if on cue, the lights went out. Jonathan let out a quite, devilish laugh when he heard Smith back up against the wall. "I can feel your fear, Smith."

"What the hell are you doing!" screamed Smith as Jonathan navigated his way, oh so carefully and quietly, across the room to the desk.

"Would you like to see my mask?" Jonathan asked, ever so quietly, while opening his brief case and slipping the mask on.

"Where the fuck are you Crane!" Smith tried to sound like he wasn't afraid, but the fear in the room was so thick, Jonathan could almost taste it.

"Well, I guess you won't be able to see it. It is dark, after all." Jonathan slowly made his way up to where Smith was. Jonathan had always had an innate ability to see very well in the dark.

"What the fuck is going on!"

"You called me a Scarecrow, did you not?" Jonathan asked even slower, building up the suspense of Smith's inevitable doom.

"What?"

"Just answer the question Smith." Jonathan's voice took on a low, murderous tone.

"Y-yes," Smith stammered out.

"Then do you think that Scarecrows aren't… scary?" Jonathan was whispering at this point. He felt giddy inside, but remained his cool, calm demeanor on the outside.

"What does that…"

"Answer the question," he said sharply, yet still whispering.

Smith stood there, squirming in his fear, trying to think of what the best answer would be. "N-no. I-I don't."

"Really?" Jonathan was so close to Smith now, he was whispering in his ear. "You don't sound to brave at the moment."

"I-I don't think that Scarecrows are s-scary."

"Well," Jonathan smiled. "Let us see just how scary you think this one is."


I cannot thank you all enough for putting up with my inability to get off of my ass and post! But lately my grades haven't been ideal, so school must take precedence over my stories. I am on break right now, so I will try to get in as many chapters as I can, seeing as I only have a week and a half for break. But I promise I will try my hardest. And for those of you who read my Red Eye story, I will put posting on that story at the top of my list. e-Christmas cookies and e-eggnog for everyone who read and reviewed on my last chapter and the same to those of you who read and review this one.

Love and happy holidays,

Celia