Chapter Nine: Run from Fairytales
Part One: Into the Balmy Moonlit Night
For a short while the woman was rather serene. Jonathan had allowed her the grace of being a human being by showering, getting a new set of clothes, and sating her hunger and thirst. He was becoming aware of a nervous tic she had of shifting her eyes and tensing her legs just before fixing her gaze onto something – typically himself – as a frightened animal might fix upon something. A flight response she was resisting acting upon. However, that serenity and urge to resist fleeing ceased the moment he went to inject more toxin into her. A new round with the contextual information he'd gotten from her should prove at least mildly educational. Holly was still very much frightened of him, he had to physically back her into a corner with her pale and sweating.
Jonathan was attempting to be a good doctor, he knew better, his subjects were not the understanding types. No one ever was. He'd hoped to treat her as such suggested, more of a patient. He was certainly losing his patience. Even so, could understand her unwillingness to be put under the effects of his compound again. The fear of the unknown, the fear of what she saw, he might have been the cause of giving rise to a new fear of needles. The thought of replacing one fear with another was something he toyed with in the past; it may be something he could explore here as well.
Holding onto her arm he was attempting to still her from ripping it away – he was tired of patching her up. It was a tempting idea to just stab her in the shoulder or neck, the idea however along with other thoughts were replaced by the sound of car brakes squeaking outside.
They both heard a car roll into the gravel driveway and stop, "Expecting company?" He stopped trying to keep her still and she pulled her arm away.
"Depends what today is." She still was unaware of how much time had passed, three or four days maybe? It could have been weeks for all she knew. Salvatore was bound to have guys come looking for her in one fashion or another. Holly took the moment of Jonathan looking elsewhere to slide away before bolting towards her stairs. He did not chase her. Not a chance she was going to go through his chemical study sessions again willingly. She was going to look for that pistol in her room and if it wasn't there then… Holly did not know yet, but she'd think of something.
There seemed nothing out of place in her room, even her journal was wrapped up and still upon her dresser. Holly wondered if his morals about privacy were the only things still intact though it seemed very unlikely. The woman opened the nightstand next to her bed retrieving the spare pistol and loaded a magazine. Had he really not checked as she'd thought? The man had made her paranoid. A flush of embarrassment crept up her neck; she could have run from him this whole time and he'd as good as convinced her with mostly just his lack of urgency and words that she could not. She pulled the slide back trying to steel herself for being able to squeeze the trigger soon, with the knot in her stomach from just the noise of the slide shutting back into place she was unsure if she'd be able to.
Holly opened her window next looking to the shadow cast ground below. If she landed wrong she could break her legs or smash her ribs more. The ground below had gardening tools in the way too. Holly felt too weak to jump from any sort of height and still being cuffed would make it more difficult than it needed to be. She did not need the cuff keys to leave – she'd just needed to leave from the ground floor was all. Tony's car keys were likely still in Jonathan's possession. Her other car had been left at the bank's back lot some time ago so there was no point in looking for those either. Holly shook her head, priorities, she thought the word. Getting out of this house was the priority even if she had to run through the woods.
The lights were all off when Holly came creeping back down the stairs with the pistol in hand, her finger at the side of it disciplined. The last rays of dusk were upon the outskirts of Gotham and it made her home feel eerie. She was sure a shadow had moved and she stared long at it with wide eyes. It was cast from the setting sun against a piece of furniture. Unmoving. Crane did not need to shove toxin into her veins, Holly would jump and scream without it at this point. She almost had when something grabbed her shoulder as she stepped just a few feet away from the stairs, just a short-lived yelp came out of her lips.
The woman was growing tired of being tossed around and slammed into things. Her ribs were never going to recover fully at this rate. Holly was pressed onto the bookshelf in the living space being held there by a bigger man's forearm across her collarbones. The shelf had rattled and the TV remote that was on top of it slipped to the floor in a clatter as the batteries rolled out of it. She was being slightly choked but not enough to lack air – faintly she wheezed and the pressure let off a little.
"Ya know, I made a bet ya wouldn't be here. Gonna cost me money so don't be trouble."
"Gamblin's a nasty habit." She breathed out and the arm pressed again to make her feel like a frog was in her lower throat.
"Give me the gun." He had his other hand over hers. She relinquished it easily; not only did Holly know she'd likely not be able to fire the gun but that the bulldog of a man who probably ate nails for breakfast was the kind that took no real shit. Gabriel Wright was this man's name and he'd shoot a body part, snap a few fingers, rebreak her ribs, and so on to make a point without hesitation. He scared her, but far less than Scarecrow did. Holly wondered where the good doctor had slithered off to... the last she knew was he had not bothered to chase her. Gabriel tucked her spare gun into the back of the belt of his trousers after checking for a safety lever to flip on. He then grabbed her wrist and held it up, "What's with the cuffs?" And he eased up on her lower neck again.
"I like playin' cops'n robbers." All the snark she'd wanted to spit at Jonathan but held in was coming out.
"You get caught by the cops?" He turned his head to the left and then to the right, "Hey! Micky!" Gabriel yelled into the growing darkness before mumbling, "The hell he go?"
Holly realized where Scarecrow may have stalked off to, "We need to leave." She felt her heartbeat quicken and sarcasm was tossed aside.
"Ain't no rush." He moved his forearm and grabbed onto her upper arm instead, tugging her along with him, "Don't try shit, Sal's paying for you alive or dead an' I'd rather get more for you alive."
"You do not understand…" She hissed lowly, "there's someone else here." Holly took a breath, even she could tell she sounded more than just worried. Not that she was concerned for his safety.
Gabriel looked to the cuffs on her again, "I didn't see no cop car."
She nearly hissed in reply, "It's no fuckin' cop," he tugged her into the kitchen and practically threw her onto one of the highchairs at the island counter, "Ugh, listen. I'll get in the damn car, quiet as a mouse, no trouble and you can get paid but forget whoever else came with you he's probably unconscious with a…" Holly saw something in the ever-rapidly darkening shadows that time for sure, "psycho in burlap." Well. Fuck. She gulped as her mouth suddenly went dry. This is what fear tastes like, she thought. Dry and slightly metallic.
"Burlap?"
Holly had been about to say Jonathan Crane, "The Scarecrow." There was this strange difference she felt when he wore that stitched mask – he was just that much more aggressive compared to the humming honey-in-milk voiced doctor. Equally terrifying for different reasons.
"Seriously?" He snorted a laugh, "You run off with the supplier? Two for one, Ruskie's paying out for him." Gabriel grabbed his gun and pushed back the slide checking it, "Don't move."
"Give me your keys," she protested holding out cupped hands, "I'll go wait in the car." Holly one hundred percent planned to drive off.
He looked at her like she was stupid, "You're stayin' there until I get the burlap boogieman too." Once he walked away around the corner of the archway into the living space Holly stood and went to the backdoor. She was doing nothing of the sort, the boogieman would get him then her too.
It was locked again. She was not going to relive some déjà vu of suddenly being grabbed by her shirt collar, looking around behind her as if expecting someone to be there. Holly picked up the highchair by its legs. Testing the weight and gave it a one-two in mock swing before slamming it against the glass as hard as she could – the violent vibrations rattled from her hands into her arms and then the rest of her body. It hurt. I love you. The spontaneous thought burned unnaturally in her mind accompanied by a fleeting image of a shadowed teen by a lakeside. And pushing the rising dread aside a fire lit in her chest called resolve. Her hands already felt numb after one swing, but the glass had cracked, just one or two more. She swung again.
"The hell you doin'?" Gabriel had come back as the glass shattered and she dropped the chair.
Holly pointed, "Getting away from that." She could just barely see him, Scarecrow standing behind Gabriel like an imposing abyssal creature about to rip the terrified cries of his victim from their very lungs.
Holly heard the man make a questioning noise before she assumed he turned around. She did not chance to look back as the unfriendly hiss of aerosol being released into the kitchen sounded, Gabriel swore, a gun fired and, nothing but manic screaming echoed out from her kitchen. Holly was running. She did not care how much her chest burned nor ached. Right through the tall grass and hopping over the creek waters. A rush of adrenaline would keep her weak body going for long enough she hoped. Like a sprinting dazed doe from the wolf's den she wound her way among the darkness, through the trees, stumbling among the underbrush, and straight towards Gotham's light pollution in the distance.
A/N: Someone who lives with me and proofed this pointed out: 'Why doesn't she just unlock the door if she's inside?' Two things here. I grew up in a home that required a key to unlock the backdoor regardless of which side you were on (and have found that to be normal my entire life) secondly, Holly is in a state of panic there is not much in the way of good logic right now in that head of hers.