Al:

He comes again. I flinch. I hate myself. In my world, I have power without limit. He has reduced me to this.

He hasn't come for me this time. He is leading someone, a short, dark-haired woman in plaid pajamas.

I can't see her face, but I can see his. He looks pleased. Smirking. She hangs back from him as far as she can without ripping her own arms out of their sockets.

My heart plummets.

"Emily?"

She perks up when she hears my voice, but she can't answer. Her mouth is covered by duct tape. Since her feet are bare, I assume he's taken a cue from me and stuffed a pair of socks in there. Her hands are behind her back, giving her an awkward sideways gait as he drags her along behind him.

I take all this into consideration as I begin to make our first escape plan.

He lets her go in the middle of the room. She falls. Scoots across the floor to crouch at my feet. I would hug her if I could. It's been years since I've seen her in person, although the midnight phone calls still come at least once a week. She doesn't look good.

"Enjoy your reunion," says the Scarecrow. "Our first session will be tomorrow morning. 8:00 sharp."

He leaves us. I'm sure he's still monitoring our conversation somehow.

"Em?"

"Mmm?"

"You okay?"

"Mm-hmm."

"He didn't hurt you?"

"Mm-mmm." I smile mischievously.

"Is that all you can say?" She growls. "Hang onto that sense of humor. It'll serve you well. Here, let me get that tape off your face." She pushes herself up to where my hand is chained to the wall, but I can't see what I'm doing, and I don't manage to pull off the duct tape.

This doesn't please either of us.

"Never mind. I've had one-sided conversations before." I sigh. "It's really good to see you again, even under these rather inconvenient circumstances." Because I feel awkward saying it, I don't tell her I love her. She knows I do.

--

Emily has been dozing for about half an hour when the Scarecrow returns. We have no windows, no way to tell the time, but I can only assume it is 8:00.

She wakes, sees him, and bursts into noisy, difficult tears. All the hours I spent calming her are forgotten.

"Emily! He can't hurt you! Fear is nothing!"

"Not so." The henchman he has brought with him moves toward me. He takes Emily himself.

The faceless henchman unchains me and turns me to face the wall. This is new. As he puts the chains back on, I hear the sound of ripping tape.

"Motherfucker!" Emily screams. She has changed quite a bit from the young lady I used to know.

She is still screaming obscenities when they gas me.

And a second later when the walls begin to melt.

And still when they gas her.

"Son of a-aaa-aaah!" I hear nothing more coherent from her for the next few hours.

I can see nothing, but my mind shows me more than I ever wanted to see. The tone of her screams conjures the image of flying entrails. The splashing doesn't help.

He's killing her. He's really killing her.

A splash of blood lands on my cheek.

"Leave her alone!" I scream. "Just leave her alone!"

--