Emily:
For years I have been taking drugs to suppress my dreams, so when I open my eyes to see him hovering over me, I know it's not just another nightmare.
I scream and lash out at him with both hands, flailing, scratching at his face, tearing at his clothes. I have been taking self-defense classes for years, expecting him to come for me. In this moment, I forget everything I ever learned. I don't even think to knee him in the groin. He pins both my arms. I don't know how; he can't weigh much more than I do, if as much.
He leans down close to me and whispers, "Boo."
Somehow, I free my arms and shove him away from me. I hit the floor before he does, running for my door.
It's locked. I lock it every night: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, from top to bottom. I will never get them all open in time.
I turn and sprint to my window. If I make the jump just right, I will have a dumpster to break my fall. It's something I've practiced many times in my mind.
He grabs me as I'm raising the sash. Stupid, I should have just broken the glass. He turns me around to face him.
He has put on his mask, but I can still see his unnaturally blue eyes.
I hear a hiss, smell blood, feel a numbing cold. His toxin enters my lungs.
I have one last thought.
This is the end of me.
--
Scarecrow:
Emily Burke crumples at my feet. She shivers uncontrollably, already hyperventilating.
Today is the first day of December. This rathole apartment is remarkably well-heated. My hideout is not. A more considerate kidnapper would dress her more warmly. I don't consider it. I know that one of her greatest fears stems from a childhood memory of falling through the ice in a frozen pond. The cold will bring the fear. The fear will make her mine.
Alice's fear has already made her mine. She has betrayed her friend in so many small ways.
Emily shrieks when I touch her. She does not stop until I move away to where she can no longer see me. Then she weeps quietly, holding herself.
She is still afraid of drowning in the ice.
But her greatest fear is me.
--
The version of the toxin I'm using on them wears off quickly. She should be back to normal before we cross the state line, but even when we are well inside Gotham City, she trembles and shrinks away from me. She is tied up on my floorboards with nowhere to go. I enjoy sitting in the backseat with her, maskless, just staring.
When my driver stops in front of the warehouse I'm "renting," I reach down as if to pick her up. She becomes hysterical very quickly, but this time she doesn't cry out. I have effectively gagged her with her own socks.
"Come along," I say gently. My bedside manner may be rusty, but it frightens her more than the usual scare tactics, which pleases me. It has been so long since I've been able to use any subtlety. "There's nothing to fear," I tell her, "but fear itself."
--