Warnings : Mentions of abuse, blood, (possible) murder, sadism.
-If the Riddler could think straight he would be furious; insatiably angry at himself for being so weak, so trusting, so stupid enough to actually believe that the Scarecrow would just leave him be.
As it is, Edward could just try his best to not claw his own eyes out because he knows that the person in front of him is not there, that his father is not there, that the words ("Moron, idiot, cheater, liar, brat, mistake, useless, weedy, ignorant, moron, moron moron moron moron") are just in his head – in his ears but not actually in the air around him.
Curled up in the corner of his cell in Arkham, Edward wished, not for the first time, that he wasn't sharing a wall with the Scarecrow (well he wouldn't mind it so much if the guards would just gag Jonathan, but apparently it's against human rights; like those things matter to the guests of Arkham). The guards will not even look in to his cell; why would they when Edward is such a low risk inmate? He doesn't act violent, he doesn't murder the others and he doesn't even talk them to death (unlike some). No, the guards pass by, uncaring and never noticing his suffering. Though can it really be called suffering? Through the twisted and forced cathartic effect of facing his deepest and darkest (and a few irrational one too) Edward is becoming stronger. Never has he been so sure of his intellect when faced with the sight of his father. Never has he been so sure of choice of crime when faced with the abuse of the bullies. Never before has he been so able to sit alone in the dark and not worry about what will come forward.
Yet he still bites down on his hand to muffle any cries (though the taste of the blood makes him nauseous) and he claws at his ears to muffle the voices and he screws his eyes closed to hide away from the sights inflicted from his treacherous brain. It is only after time has passed, seconds, minutes, hours, days time what time there is only the screaming of ghosts and violence of shadows and memories of abuse (or abuse of memories?) that Edward was able to uncurl from his position of half under his bed and feebly pull the blanket around his cold form.
"How do you feel now, Edward?" The calm, soft and suave voice filtered through the cracks in the wall. Even though Scarecrow can't see Edward and though Edward hasn't always been making noises the good Doctor still seems to know when the effects of the Fear Gas has worn off and when Edward is able to speak properly again.
"I make you weak at the worst of all times.
I keep you safe, I keep you fine.
I make your hands sweat, and your heart grow cold,
I visit the weak, but seldom the bold." So what if it doesn't technically answer the question asked; all Edward cares about is the vain hope it might shut Jonathan up for a brief respite.
No such luck, "You're getting over the effects faster now. Could this be because you are accepting what you are seeing?"
"Could this be because I'm developing immunity from overexposure?" Edward's voice is snide; he has no reason to shy away from being nasty to the fearsome Scarecrow now.
"Edward we are making such good progress in your sessions now. Why soon I think we'll finally have a nice little breakthrough." Jonathan's voice is light and cheery (what else was Edward expecting, the man enjoys pain and suffering and fear). "We can't stop your sessions now, oh no."
With a shaking hand Edward pulls the thin pillow off the bed, throws it to the opposite side of the cell and rolls his way across the floor, as far as way from the connecting wall as the room allowed.
As the silence stretches on, Jonathan becomes impatient, "You cannot ignore me Edward. Even if we have to wait until tomorrow, we will continue this."
Silence reigned for the rest of the night.
-
Jonathan was the first to enter the 'Congenial Activity, Recreation and Enrichment room' (or CARE room as the guards so nauseating dubbed the place), so when he stopped in the doorway and laughed, the guards instantly pulled Jonathan out of the way and rushed into the room. How he accomplished such a feat was not something Jonathan knew, but he was impressed; it was clear that Edward was not in the best of moods and now everyone will know it.
"Some try to hide, some try to cheat, but time will show, we always will meet.
Try as you might, to guess my name, I promise you'll know, when you I do claim."
The fact that Edward had drawn his message in blood was rather remarkable as there had been no alarms that signalled that any guards had gone missing.
Jonathan was pulled away, still laughing and roughly manhandled back to his cell, just in time to see the guards ruthlessly dragging (a non-protesting) Edward down the corridor that leads to the solitary confinement cells.
"I suppose the next session will have to wait Doc!" The completely dim minded guards simply think he is talking to the psychiatrist who was standing to one side observing, but Jonathan knows better.
With a growing smile he lay on his bed. Oh yes, the next session would have to wait, but this little avoidance tactic Edward was trying to pull would only grant him so much time and it is not like Jonathan was going anywhere. Why would he, when his most interesting subject is right here too?
"'Some try to hide, some try to cheat, but time will show, we will always meet...'" Jonathan can't help but laugh again. How very fitting.
Ciao all. Golly gosh I've been busy recently what with working and being really ill and a holiday that was a nightmare and on Thursday I depart for Nepal for 5 weeks!
So I have no idea when I'll update again (I'd like to get at least another one drabble up before I go, but doubt it lol)!
A massive thank you to all the reviewers; you people are the ones who inspire me to write.
I hope everyone is having a wonderful summer!