(Present Day)
A few days have passed. How cliche' would it be for me to say these days have passed by in a blur?
But seriously, everything was moving so quickly, my overall confusion, and how unfocused everything is... Is that not what a blur is?
Most of the people who talked to me only felt like husks of people, shells hosting hollow souls. They all spread the same thing, oh, trust me... I knew what I did was wrong. I knew the goddamn consequences of my actions... I didn't need to hear it 50 times.
Jim Gordon was the only person who stuck out to me - He was a good man, and I couldn't help but just feel bad.
Gotham was the kind of city that tortured the good people. Either you were driven to desperation, you were corrupted, or you just fucking died.
Like... Like... Kathleen...
No, you can't let your thoughts spiral, you can't show the vulnerability, don't give into your emotions...
Gordon was the only one I gave straight answers to - He didn't ask a ton anyway, so it almost made it easier for me.
One face I hoped I would never have to see again was that Dr. Crane. I hate, absolutely hate the fact that he intrigued me. Very few people had the ability to intrigue me, but the second they did... I could hyper-fixate so easily, it was so, so hard for someone to poke into my head, carve out enough of a hole for my thoughts to spiral into. I mean, it's not the rarest thing, but I'm not going to pretend even half the people I've ever talked to have that effect on me.
However, that hope was crushed when I had to get a blood test, in which the results would be sent to him. Apparently, he wanted several things from me, everything from forms filled out, file requests, and a damn questionnaire was given to me.
I was now in a jail cell, right next to the GCPD building, instead of the temporary holding cell... Well, I think I could've blinked, and wouldn't have noticed the difference at all - The same white tiles all over the wall, the dingy atmosphere, it was all the same.
Better get used to that for the rest of your life.
I also got to be free from handcuffs, and I made sure to not bring up the red marks, they went away, it literally didn't matter, all pain was temporary.
At least in the physical field...
The damn questionnaire I had been given, my only sense of entertainment, but I refused to answer it. Not only was I some stupid over-thinker who felt simple questions could never allow me to answer with the depth of emotions I felt, but I, maybe it was because I was still slightly bitter from the blood test, but I almost felt as if these answers would just be more ammunition for Crane's point. Something about that man... Everything he was asking, it gave me these feelings that he was a bit obsessive, completely unsettling, but he knew exactly what he was doing.
I couldn't just let myself fall into his trap.
I would just tell myself to breathe in, the questionnaire was all optional, and he'll never have the full depth of my records.
The only way he'd find those records is if...
I cut my own thoughts off. Crane was most likely a busy man, and probably had to keep his hands ever-so-slightly clean, so I would really have to be of special interest to him for him to go that far to track the last remaining bits of those documents.
And I was special to no one, so this busy doctor wouldn't be some exception.
"Madeline... I never thought we would be talking about this, in this situation..."
The hurt on Rachel's face broke me. For the first time in what was probably days, (I had no clue how long I had been stuck in this, but I knew eternity was fast approaching, so time meant nothing at this damn point.) I broke just a little bit. All of the composure, a slight crack came through.
"Rachel... You know I would never want to hurt you, it sucks if you feel betrayed -"
"Listen, Madeline, right now, it's not about personal issues. This is about the law, about the system."
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, I knew she was disappointed. What I would do to just be able to comfort her, run a hand through her beautiful brunette locks, look her in the eyes, and just be able to assure her everything would be okay.
But I could never.
Besides, I was such a terrible person, Rachel deserves the world, not me.
"I'm here because I want to send my own psychiatric consultant to check on you - Not Crane."
That peaked my interest. Raising an eyebrow, even changing my tone of voice, singing it a little more volume.
"What do you have against Crane?"
Ironic I was asking that question, considering the fact I never wanted to see that smug face again... Yet I didn't exactly know why.
"Despite his reputation and position, I know that he must be corrupt - He's been manipulative, his asylum getting new inmates daily, and if a single second opinion was disclosed, I know those people are not insane. Not only that, he has a past that has been completely buried, and there are whispers of unethical practices in his asylum."
"So your whole opinion of him is formed from assumptions?"
"I just want to stick up for you, why would you be so concerned about not getting a second opinion?"
I sighed... I really didn't want to anger her more, I just wanted to be able to push her out of my life, so that way I couldn't hurt her anymore.
"You want to prove me not insane, so as not to undo our months of progress?"
She took a breath, as if trying to remain composed. Funny, I could never imagine her exploding, letting her emotions get the best of her.
"That's more Harvey's concern than mine - I obviously want to make sure you're safe and what your fate will be is a logical, just decision. But, as with everything in my field, I can't pretend I don't have ulterior motives."
"I'm not mad at you, I completely get it. Rachel, you're one of the smartest people I know, you know your field better than anyone, except maybe Dent. I trust you, more than I trust myself," I admitted sadly.
"Madeline - No matter what happens, I will not let my emotions get the better of me, and have your fate be decided by the law... No matter what."
She offered me a smile, but I knew better. I felt like such a shitty person for betraying her... She's one of the last shining souls left in Gotham.
As she left, I also thought about what she said about Crane - Rachel was an optimist, ready to make changes in this city.
I knew this city would torture her, I bet it has for years. But if this city hasn't shaken her up too much... Crane being someone she didn't want anywhere near me made me the slightest bit worried.
Why would she want to keep him as far away from me as possible?
My back was pressed against the wall, I had chosen to sit in the corner. I had already spent hours pacing, thinking all about what Crane could possibly be up to. But eventually, I realized that did me absolutely no good. Thinking about what my life would be like in the future, the eternity I would spend punishing myself...
Maybe I should've driven that car off the cliff.
Or shot the gun pressed against my forehead when I had the chance.
Or -
I mean, it wouldn't have fucking worked anyway. Until my thoughts kept spiralling, wondering if in that state of mind it would've worked, or maybe I could've avoided this all.
No matter what, I deserved hell, and if I could never reach eternal torture in another realm, I may as well have to settle for eternal torture in our physical world.
I would've only kept thinking if it wasn't for the door to my cell being opened.
I scrambled to the table, at least try to keep a fraction of composure.
However, Dr. Crane walked through the door.
"Ms. Taylor, it's a pleasure to see you again."
I didn't even want to make a snarky remark. My silence was simply the only weapon in my artillery - I almost felt it annoyed Dr. Crane.
Not only did I never answer his questions, but I couldn't give anything up, be vulnerable... I could just observe, not have my mind picked apart.
Which I'm sure was what Dr. Crane was here to do.
My eyes shift to his briefcase, I really still am wondering what's inside... Probably just some boring-ass paperwork, but the way we swung it into the table gave my slight chills.
"It's clear to me that the feeling isn't mutual?" He asked as he raised a cocky eyebrow.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes... The less emotion I showed, the better.
"Very well then - I also noticed you didn't fill out the questionnaire. Is there a reason you didn't want to fill it out?"
I wanted to shrug, but I didn't want to come across as immature.
All I wanted to do was keep regulating my portrayal - The less Crane knew, the less chance he had to get me into that ratty asylum.
His crystal eyes were staring me down... He definitely had an intimidating aura to him, but I would never admit that.
"I didn't feel I could," I answered in the vaguest version of the truth.
"Why so? Were you not given the particular writing materials to fill out the form, or was it an internal reason?" He clicked his tongue.
"The second one," I said, in a voice barely above a whisper.
"Would you care to expand on that? I just want to know -"
"No," I answered quite plainly. Technically, I answered the damn question, so it's not like he could be that mad about it...
"I see - why so?"
"I don't feel like those questions were asked in a way that my answers would be accurate."
"Fascinating..."
What a weird guy... I couldn't help but think. Like, I get that there are stereotypes about therapists/phycologists/psychiatrists, that they're somewhat all nuts and kooks... I mean, most people so interested in mental health probably had something going on - and I can say that, because that's why I studied my minor. I got so much shit going up in my mind, and I just wanted to understand it.
But this guy... At least all of the therapists I've ever been to were composed and compassionate - And I'm not asking Crane to be sympathetic for me - a fucken murderer...
But something about him was unsettling.
"I wish you would talk to me more, Ms. Taylor, I really do," he started with an ever-so-slightly mocking tone. "If you would only give me more information, I could get an accurate reading of mind, I could help you. I also want you to know that if you have reservations about Arkham Asylum, I can assure you, as the director of the establishment, it would be a perfect place for any rehabilitation you would need - far better conditions there than at any prison."
I tried to remove any snarky from the next statement I made:
"Why are you trying to advertise an asylum to me that I will never have to go to?" I asked quietly.
"Just in case - You never know, you may find that just because you deny certain aspects of your mind... They may come out soon..."
What the fuck was that supposed to mean?
I asked myself - I don't understand what he's going on about, I just don't get why he's trying to get me into? Why is he so dead-set on proving his points to me? I couldn't help but feel as if that man had something sinister was going on behind those glasses, those intense eyes.
I started glancing around to everything about him, his attire of a suit - A grey jacket, blue and black striped tie, a white collared shirt, matching slacks, and I'm sure he's wearing shined shoes... I looked into his slightly gelled-back hair, his badge which revealed his name, position, and pronouns... And then I looked back into his glasses.
He suddenly took off his glasses, taking a deep breath.
"Ms. Taylor, would you like to see my mask?"
"Sure," I answered, not entirely sure where this was going, but I kinda wanted to see where it led.
He seemed slightly taken aback.
"Humor me," I added, barely above a whisper.
He smirked.
"What was that?"
"Humor. Me." I said, slightly raising my voice.
"... I use it in my experiments," he popped open his briefcase, and pulled out some ratty burlap sack that was stitched-up, like some creepy scarecrow.
He gestured to it, and I raised both of my eyebrows... I couldn't even understand why he was doing this.
"While probably not very frightening to a person like you, but these crazies - They can't stand it," he said whispering the last part.
So as to not have to confront those questions, I asked, "How many people do you tell that to?"
He snickered to himself... He was clearly enjoying himself, and I felt like I was most likely walking on thin, thin ice.
"You're not the first, but your response has been quite... Unique."
The smile he flashed was so dark and deranged, I now felt like I was getting in too deep - I was locked in a room with a creepy man with some mask, and now, I no longer felt like the most dangerous person in the room.
I decided that I would rather just try to see what the hell he wanted to do with me... So I added an extra line of sarcasm.
"A shame, really. It would be quite nice to not have to experience a speech that's already been practiced in front of a mirror fifty times." My eyelids slightly dropped as my eyebrows raised, as if trying to prove my point.
"I can assure you Ms. Taylor, this experience will be quite unique for you."
It seemed as if my words weren't affecting him at all... Welp, that only concerned me more. How many people had he done this to?
In an instant, he put on the ratty, make-shift mask, and then... Pressed a button in his briefcase?
Suddenly, I started shaking. I looked at his briefcase, there was some sort of glass that had been sprayed.
Whatever the fuck had been sprayed, it was spreading through my entire body. My blood ran cold, my sweat materialized, and my eyes suddenly were flashed with some images - Images of death, my memories, and voices screaming at me.
I looked up to Dr. Crane, and it was as if spiders were crawling out of the mouth of his stitched mask. Other 'creepy crawlers' soon followed, and it was as if they started crawling on my skin, sending me into a sensory overload.
An instinct loud scream left my lips, and I felt like running, freezing up, or fighting against whatever goes were coming after me.
I fell from my chair as more images flashed... And they became more graphic.
Everyone from my old friends, the people I've killed, and even acquaintances, friends, and even lovers from the past, which I never, ever wanted to return to.
Melissa was laughing in my ear that I was much better off spending the rest of my life in punishment. Andy whispered I betrayed him. Jackson was telling me that I was ungrateful, the family I left behind yelling at me that I abandoned them. And at the center of it all...
Nathan.
Nate Cole.
He had a gun pointed to my head, and I was crying now. On my knees, waiting for him to pull the trigger.
"You should've just died, huh?"
I nodded.
I heard a voice from my side, asking me something, then yelling, but I didn't even focus on it... And why should I? Nate was right here, and he wanted to kill me.
Hasn't he done enough?
"But you can't even die? Can't even just end your life right, huh?" He laughed, far from the laugh I used to know, it was now patronizing, rather than the kind that made every joke he reacted to seem to be the funniest damn thing ever.
"I just wanted to die..." I whispered.
"What was that? You never speak up, do you?"
"I just wanted to die!" I said, screaming and opening my eyes, tears falling furiously now.
"Ah, there it is - But you're right, you can't even die... Such a shame, a shame indeed."
Something told me that Nate would've never talked this way, but then again... I never thought Nate would've done half the things he ended up doing to me.
"I guess I can't kill you - I should just kill your city, the last scrap of people you are willing to fight for..."
Before he could click the trigger and shoot, I raised my hands above my head, as if in protection...
And a brilliant beam of blue fire shot from my hand!
No, no, no, that can't be... I haven't seen that in...
Before I could process if I had really produced that element from myself, or a hallucination, which is what my money's on for what that gas is made of... I blacked out.
The last thing I remember before falling unconscious was two crystal blue eyes looking down at me from a mask...
