Chapter 2:
I was returned to my cell almost immediately after the evaluation with Dr. Crane. He must be busy interrogating his many other hapless patients. Just fine with me, I was tired of being mentally poked and prodded at like a newly discovered species.
The big burly orderly practically hurled me into my cell. Crane must have informed him of my lack of compliance. After regaining my balance, I glance around my cell, gaze falling upon my cot. The sheets are neatly made and the pillow fluffed. I didn't remember having made my bed nor fluffing my pillow. Then it struck me as comical, of all the things they could do to make me more comfortable here at Arkham, they fluff my pillow. The thought is so ridiculous that I begin to chuckle, it progresses into a normal laugh, then mutates into a full out belly roar. It was a new sound to my ears. Teary eyed I slide into a sitting position on the slick floor.
'What am I going to do?'
The next morning I awake to the sound of screams, sharp, piercing screams. I groan as I wipe my eyes and adjust my tank appropriately, which had become twisted during the night, signs of another fit full sleep. I get up and approach the small pane of Plexiglas upon my door. From an adjacent cell, a patient is yelling and clawing at his face while two orderlies try futilely to restrain his flailing limbs. But to no avail, the man was slashing deep lacerations upon his withered face. His eyes are wide terrified, staring beyond the two orderlies. I stretch my head to get a glimpse of what this man is so afraid of. Then my lovely Dr. Crane comes into view, arms placed behind his back, barking calm orders at his two men.
"Sc…Scarecrow!" The patient screams as he lunges for the doctor but is abruptly halted by the two orderlies, the ones that see to me.
Smoothly, deftly, Crane produces a syringe from his white coat pocket. "I'm afraid you are suffering from delusions, I have to sedate you now." Crane plunges the needle into the man's neck. The patient slowly lowers his arms and becomes quiet. Gradually, he begins falling lax in the orderlies' arms.
"Take him to room 219 for therapy." Crane states flatly as he recaps the exposed needle. Something is wild in his animalistic, hungry eyes. He turns toward my direction, catching my eyes with his own. I gasp and back away from the door.
"I would like another meeting with Miss Rhys, retrieve her at 1:00 p.m. and escort her to my office."
"Yes Dr. Crane."
I listen to the sound of the body be dragged away as a sickening dread crawls upon me in sly encroachment.