I sincerely apologize for taking so long to update. If I'm feeling extra indulgent I may add another chapter before the day is over. I've been utterly exhausted from finals on top of just getting myself out of a destructive relationship. Needless to say, I've been creatively at a loss. But now my creative energy is back and I'm raring to go. I could be happier with this chapter. I just wanted to get something out there.

I would like to thank: Royalty09, MsBrooklyn, FalconHorror, and emptyvoices for all the lovely reviews and helpful advice. I appreciate it beyond words. You all have made this a pleasant and painless experience and I cannot express my gratitude.

I love you all for it!

Alright, here's the nest installment. Please enjoy!

Chapter 6

It has been close to two weeks and I've had no real food. Once a day I'd been given a small piece of bread and a cup of water, enough to keep me alive. The notion that Crane wanted to weaken me was clearly visible. Apparently he wanted to humiliate me as well, for the straightjacket hasn't been removed once. The two burly orderlies keep me inebriated with sedatives. I lie curled in my corner, wishing for something of substance to eat. Silently I pray that Crane would kill me and just get it over with. It would be the kindest of gestures, but Crane didn't strike me as a merciful man.

'Pity'

My door opens, interrupting my thoughts and for a moment I silently hope it is Crane, coming to finish what he had started. I look up, too woozy to raise my head. It is a woman orderly, followed by my two big guys. "A Miss Kyra Rhys, time for your shower." Her voice is kind and strong, with a hint of smoker's rasp. She is a big boned lady, with wide hazel eyes and bleached blonde hair pulled into a tight bun. Her pearl stud earrings contrast with the lines of her skin as her makeup heavily reflects the eighties.

I couldn't have been happier to see her.

The proposition of a shower felt like I'd been selected as winner of the lottery. I try to sit but wind up slumping back onto the cold cement. 'Am I going to have enough strength to bath?' The woman motions for Demitri and Mark to pick me up. I don't resist. I want that shower. I manage to read her name with dull eyes, 'Cathy.' I couldn't have fit her better. "After your shower Dr. Crane would like to meet with you." She examines me with pity as I am held fast by my elbows.

'Don't worry guys, running definitely isn't an option.'

My orderlies stop and wait by the door as Cathy leads me into a small room with a bench. There is a Plexiglas wall with a door opening into a much larger room, fixed with four showerheads on each side of the three walls. A couple of showers are already being used by patients, all female to my relief. Cathy starts to dismantle my straightjacket. She lifts it over my head and sets it on the bench, next to a bin of freshly folded towels. I lift my arms. They feel both light and heavy and are badly weakened by disuse. She waits patiently as I undress. She hands me a small bottle of soap. "You have ten minutes." She then opens the door for me and I step into the showers.

Cathy then sat on the bench and scanned over her clipboard. I take in a deep breath of the warm moist steam and proceed towards a shower nozzle. I barely manage to turn the knob with my weak hands. It groans then hisses to life. The water is first a freezing mist then slowly it morphs into a warm spray. I close my eyes and let the water invigorate my senses. After several minutes of just standing with the water rushing over me, I concentrate on the task at hand and begin to bath. I scan my badly bruised body. I run my fingers over my protruding ribs. I had lost a good ten pounds. My normally athletic figure was becoming gaunt. I wanted to cry.

'Is he trying to take everything?'

The door to the showers opens. "Kyra, times up."

I turn off the shower and wring out my hair. I proceed to the door, wary of my exposure. Shyly, I fold my arms over my upper body and silently exit the showers. Cathy hands me a towel and I dry off. Putting on a fresh set of sweats and white muscle shirt she then leads me out of the room to my two orderlies. I flinch to a halt as Demitri holds up a clean straightjacket.

'Oh no…'

"Please no." I back away. "I'll be good, I promise…" I couldn't go back in that thing. I wouldn't be able to stand it.

"I'm only going to say this once; be a good girl." Demitri warns, stepping towards me, confident that I would behave. I look around hopelessly, Marcus is no where to be seen. For the first time at Arkham, I momentarily lost my sanity. I scream and bolt past Demitri. He stumbles but catches himself. I am already halfway down the hall, charging madly for the stairs. I shoot up them; I knew damn well I had been kept on the lowest level of the asylum. Adrenaline soared through my body, giving me unimaginable strength to run in such a weakened physical state. An alarm begins to sound in loud, pulsating rhythms, reminding me of the wailing sirens of a nuclear threat. There are little red lights every some odd feet that simultaneously blinked on and off. It seemed to match my heart rate.

My wobbly legs trip and I fall up the stairs, losing precious time. I scramble to pull myself up with my weak arms. I couldn't go back into that straightjacket…

'I wonder what they'll do to me now….'

The thought makes me want to go back and admit that I shouldn't have run. Promise that I will obey them from now on. Yet the thought of Crane's expression if I was to do so pushes me on. I come to a door and carefully crack it open. I peer through the small crevice and listen attentively. The hall appears vacant. I dash down the long hallway, glancing at the numbers on the doors as I pass by. I cry out as a loud thump on a nearby door makes me leap into the air. I stand panting and startled as I stare at a shadow of a man. His face presses against the pane of Plexiglas on the door of his cell. A prominent nose fogs the glass as he grins malevolently at me with long, straight teeth. Deep set eyes fixate on my form as a low chuckle emanates from within his throat.

"Running from the Scarecrow are we?" He hisses. "Now that's comedy…"

I back away, shaking from adrenaline. "Thanks for the update Howdy Doody."

He laughs a terrible sound. It's high at first then manifests into short low growls.

"I admire humor in a gal…" He cocks his head against the glass, stretching the skin back from one eye; giving the appearance of it bulging from his skull.

"You'd be wise not let the good doctor catch you. He'll do terrible things to your mind." The man's voice is low and deliberate.

'Good observation! What was your first clue?'

Terrified, I run.

My hair whips around my face like live wires, sending small beads of water upon the floor. I can hear the insane inmate calling after me.

"Have you ever danced…?"

The patting of my bare feet drowns out the rest of his statement. His horribly maniacal laughter chases after me as I desperately try to block out his voice. My breath caught in my throat when I came to a much brighter hallway. The fluorescent bulbs were new, the floors immaculate. Was I nearing the main entrance? I hear faint voices and footsteps behind me, my heart leaps, my legs exploding into action. I scale the entire hallway in less than five seconds. I thrust myself through the doors. I halt with mouth open in terrifying revelation. I am standing in a very bad place. This hallway was different. The walls are halfway glass, on looking into offices. 'No, no, no, shit!' I look behind me, the voices and footsteps growing much louder. I had no choice; I bolt through the clear tunnel of offices. Doctors and nurses look startled as I unexpectedly fly by. I catch glimpse of one of the nurses picking up a phone. A knot is forming in the pit of my stomach, still no sight of Crane. I silently pray he had the day off.

I burst through yet another set of doors. 'This place is a labyrinth!' I knew I wasn't going to get much farther. 'They are either going to catch me or I'm going to run into them.' The doors lead to a large room where I immediately spot a desk along with an entrance. It looks to be one of many. The woman behind the counter gasps as she catches sight of me. A young guard turns toward me. "Stop! Don't move!" He shouts as he approaches me with hands in a seemingly passive gesture, as if to halt me.

'Yeah, because that always works in the movies…'

I round a one-eighty and burst through the first door I see. Blindly I run up the stairs. I have to find a secure place to hide. Just as I conquer the first flight of stairs I collide solidly with a warm body. I nearly leap back down the stairs as my gaze met Dr. Crane's. I try to push him aside but he latches onto me, gathering a fist full of the front of my shirt. "No!" I scream into his face, daring to throw a few punches. They are completely ineffective, time in the straightjacket had seen to that. Crane let go of the front of my shirt and easily blocks my punches, a little too expertly. He grabs my wrists and drives me back first into the wall. By the look in his eyes, I half expected him to throw me down the stairs.

"Foolish little girl!" He yells into my lips, pausing only to slap me across the face. I've seen him angry before but now he seems unable to contain it. He had always been so controlled before, so self-contained, and above the bondage of emotions.

'Good to see he's human.'

"Bent little boy!" I shout right back at him, adding emphasis to last word. He is not going to win. Not without a damn good fight. Suddenly he grabs me by the throat and slams me into the nearby railing. I cry out upon impact, the blow actually popping my lower vertebrae. His grip tightens, cutting off my source of oxygen. Instinctively I grip my hands over his wrists, willing him to pull away. My head dizzied and my arms began to grow heavy.

"You want to spar with me Kyra? If you do, I'll happily give you a run." He hisses into my face and violently flings me down onto the opposite wall, sitting me down. The collision knocks out what little air I had left. I cough and heave, desperate for oxygen. I look weakly up at him, discreetly gathering my legs in defense, should he approach. I could do a repeat of the Pyrrhic victory I had won over him in my cell. Perhaps it would buy me time to get away…

"Get up." Crane's voice is angry yet controlled. I dare not budge. "I said, get up!"

I watch his knees as he approaches me; weakly I kick out at him. He swats my foot out of the way and hoists me up by my arm.

"You interest me Kyra. But that doesn't mean I won't hurt you."

'It means you will.'

He examines me with intrigue, as if he could imagine what I was thinking.

"I want to know exactly what's going on in there." He almost gently strokes the back of my head, seemingly suppressing a smile as he felt my body stiffen at the contact.

"Let's make some progress today, shall we?" His tone is professional again as he begins to lead me down and out of the stairwell.

'No, Dr. Crane let's not…'