Chapter 7: Agent of Fear

"Hello, Coralline. Please, come in."

I don't know if I like this. Creepy looking white dude. Looks like he drives a white van on his days off.

"Morello, you can leave us. Go get a coffee, we'll be fine."

"I can't, Dr. Crane. She's too high risk."

"I know, but I'm not scared. I think we will get along well. Please, go relax for a while, I'll page you when you're needed."

I looked back at Morello. I could just see it on her face her suspicion.

"Okay… I'll be back in twenty minutes."

"Thank you, Morello."

She closed the door before me, leaving me in here with him. The radio on his desk blared, 'New Years celebrations will be held tomorrow. Say farewell to 2018 and welcome— *click*'

He turned off the radio and crossed his hands to the table, "Come take a seat."

As I come into the room there was this strong musk of cologne. It was so overpowering like every sense of my being was on that smell. This guy must be really insecure to think he needs to douse himself with it. Am I insecure? My heart rate is beating too fast.

I sat down before Dr. Crane like the seat was hurting me. His stare was hurting me. Why was he looking at me and not talking. Why do I feel like this?

"You look scared, Coralline… don't be scared."

My fingers are tingling. I can't feel my tongue anymore. Am I dying? Is this a panic attack. My breath…. Why can't I catch my breath?!

"I wanna go back to my cell."

"Why? You only just got here? Coralline, what are you afraid of?" He leaned in so slowly with eyes like perilous orbs. I had tears but couldn't feel them roll down my cheeks. What the fuck is this?!

"There is nothing to fear… but fear itself."

"Nooo! Scarecrow! No! No! Go away! Nooo!"

Suddenly I woke up again in this shit-hole. For once it's not my screams this time. Gotta say it's really annoying to wake up to this crap, after all. All the others in High-Risk are screaming at Zsasz to shut up. These metal walls in our cells can make a mighty racket when everyone is slamming on them. Sounds like a war zone all because of one guy wailing in his cell.

"Scarecrow! Leave me alone! No! Please! Put the mask away! No more! No more!"

"Shut the fuck up, Zsasz, you fucking fruit-loop!"

"I'm trying to sleep! Shut UP!"

He saw him, too. I never liked Zsasz. Such a creepy dude, just like him. But I felt bad for that demented little serial killer just then. I sit up in my bed and the dark corners of my room are starting to crawl in on me. My mom's voice whispered to me.

'There's no such thing as monsters, honey. It's your mind playing a trick. You are safe, you are loved, and I will protect you.'

She's not here, anymore. She can't protect me from the monsters, they are allowed to creep back. Do what I would do when I didn't want to wake her up. Or when her cries and my dad's screams were so loud. Hide.

I pull the sheet over my head and close my eyes. I press my face into the wall. Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep. He's not your shrink anymore, Dr. Quinzel saved me. You're safe, you're safe.

'What are you afraid of, Coralline?'

Go away. I'm not scared of you, anymore. Leave me alone. These men screaming, it just sounds like my dad. I can't take it! Mom. Mommy. I don't want to be in this cell, I can't do this. Shh… sleep. Imagine her tucking you in. Try to sleep while you can.

'I wanna go back to my cell!"

'Not until you tell me what you're scared of.'

'No! Leave me alone!'

'I'll show you your fears, Coralline. You won't have to tell me. You'll show me.'

*BLEEEEEEEEP*

Oh god… what a shitty sleep. The wake-up alarm in HRS calls for another shitastic day.

Bolton's voice yells at my window, "Wake up, Atkins. Come get your damn tray. Don't make me open this fucking door."

This asshole again! God, how I'd love to open the door for him and slam his face in the frame fifty thousand fucking times! I thrash from my bed and feed my anger to that stupid slot. I rip the tray from the slot and toss it on the floor across my cell. The food is so gelatinous and gross it doesn't even budge— like fucking drywall paste. You could build a house with it. Bolton is still standing there. Grr! Go away!

I slam my hand to the window and let him have it, "Fuck off! Don't you have a prostate exam?! Better get going, don't wanna be late!"

Bolton smiled that dumb smile he does, "Think you're really scary, don't you, Atkins," he leaned into my window, like the smell of the diarrhea on a tray wasn't twisting my stomach enough, "But I know what you're truly afraid of. Enjoy your breakfast."

He walked away like he got some kind of pathetic win. Like he could hang his hat up and compensate for the 'two-incher' in his pants with that little retort.

"You… enjoy your breakfast! You fucking… fuck!" I'm getting too angry again, calm down. Remember what Dr. Quinzel says… anger doesn't build anything, doesn't solve anything, but can destroy everything. Okay… breathe…

I look out the window again in the main panel where the guards pick their asses. There's a glare on the window but I can kind of make out the time on the TV. 8:06am. Okay… one more hour and it's Therapy Room. You can make it. Gotta do shower. Then it'll be right around the corner.

Finally I hear Morello. I don't see her, I just know it's her by the sounds of movement. Her gait, the chain swinging on her belt. After living here for four years you know these things.

"Alrighty, Cori, it's shower time," her voice chimes, "I'm gonna open the door, Officer Robinson is with me."

Robinson and Morello, the only female officers that work on HRS floor. All the others are full of testosterone and god-complexes.

My door clicked open, and I was already holding my wrists up for the shackles. Morello gave me a smile and said, "Look at this. Dr. Quinzel is really making progress with you. Last month I would have had to sprout a sweat getting these cuffs on."

"She doesn't want to screw up her chances going to therapy today." Officer Robinson added. Like shut the fuck up. Who are you?

We went down to shower block with Collins, some old crazy bitch, the only other female in HRS. Supposedly she ate her kids or some sick shit. I don't take much stalk from hen chatter but it's just what I heard Morello and Robinson talking about one day. The water hits my skin and it's not even warm. It's never warm. It's always on that brink of cold, but not ice-cold. I'm so used to showing off my tits and ass it's like second nature. I get five minutes to wash myself. Really not practical for a girl with hair that goes down to my hips.

By the time I get back to my cell and ignore the catcalling it's 8:26am. Fuck. Of course, today the time has to go by slow. What am I supposed to do with myself? Practice my fouetté? Hang my head off my bed and let the blood rush to my cheeks? Masturbate? I can't scream and freak out anymore. Despite how much fun it is to drive the guards crazy, I need to behave now. I like the Therapy Room. I like Quinzel. I wanna keep going. I just wish I could go sooner. In the time it took for 9:00am to come around I have managed to do everything listed off before that time. Such little time turns into too much time in here. By the time Morello and Robinson came to my cell I was already against the door.

"Open… open up, open up!"

"Cool your jets, Atkins. Back from the door."

I had my hands up and ready to go for shackling. Get me out of this fucking cell. They took me from HRS and it's bullshit, and into the elevators. I was so excited to be back in that room. With the sounds of the fish tank and Dr. Quinzel's smiles. Even with the other fucktards, I didn't care. Anything was so much better than my cell. Wait. Not everything.

'What are you afraid of, Coralline?'

The elevator doors open and there he is walking up the hall towards me. I wanna turn back. I want out of my skin. He's looking at me.

"Hello, Coralline. It's nice to see you again. Going to your therapy treatment with Dr. Quinzel, then? I just saw your peer, Valentin, come through."

I'm not speaking. I don't even think I'm breathing. Please go away. Don't make me lash out and wring your neck. I want to go. Don't fuck this up for me.

"Sorry, Dr. Crane, we have a timeframe. She's not too chatty it seems," Robinson keeps flapping her mouth like she knows me.

"Let's go, Coralline," Morello can always tell when I'm upset.

We keep walking and I think I'm safe. Why do I feel like I'm not? There's a hallway we pass, and I swore I could see something lying on the floor covered in red in my peripheral. Mom? Why am I seeing her again? No. Why is my mind breaking again?

We make it to the Therapy Room, I see Quinzel, and the three guys sitting at the chair. Quinzel greets me with a smile. I should feel happier right now but this hole in my gut proves otherwise. Morello takes off my chains and I'm free. I walk forward but can't help the dejection in my jaunt. I sit next to the clown and didn't even hear Dr. Quinzel saying my name.

"Coralline? Are you okay?"

"What?"

I looked up at her like I did something wrong. I dared to look at their faces and they were all staring at me like I showed up naked.

"I only said your name a handful of times," laughed Quinzel. Shit… I didn't even hear her. Get it together, Cori. "Are you okay? You feeling well?"

"Yeah, whatever. Don't worry about me," I looked up at these three still gawking, "Stop looking at me!"

The clown just had to make a jibe, "Stiff sleep, Atkins?"

I'll show you a stiff sleep.

"Welcome back to Therapy Room, everyone! I'm glad to see your faces again. How was the weekend? From a scale to shit-to-shittiest?" At least Quinzel is trying to make jokes.

"The utter shittiest of all shits, Ms. Quinzel." Pigman said.

The clown added, "I took the shit of all shits, does that count?" Oh, fuck off. So gross.

Riddler joined in, "He did. I heard it."

"Okay, okay. I feel like I opened pandora's box with that one. Moving swiftly along, I'm just glad I get to see you all again. So we will start with another group therapy, won't be too long, thirty minutes at most. Then you all are free to enjoy the room and what it has to offer! I'll be going into the observation room and can still speak through intercom if you need me. Now, I wanted to tackle the topic of personal fears today."

Oh, God. Please, why does this need to be tackled today?!

She then pulled out a fedora looking hat with a cup of pens inside it. She pulled out the cup and handed it to Riddler on her left for him to pass around the pens.

"Everybody take a pen, then, we will pass around the hat and take a piece of paper. With your piece of paper, I want you to write down your deepest fears. Don't sign or initial, try to keep it as anonymous as possible. Try to describe that fear and how it worries you. If you can be specific, great. If not, no biggie. When your done, I'll gather all the paper and we will pass them around and read aloud. It's called 'Fear in a Hat'."

There's only one thing I fear right now. At this very moment I can't fear anything else. I got my pen and piece of paper and wrote down the only thing I could think of. After some time, Dr. Quinzel gathered our paper in the hat. I thought maybe putting it in the hat would make it go away, but it didn't. It's latched to me.

"Alright, Coralline, wanna start first?"

I took the hat, praying I wouldn't pick mine out of some dumb struck of fate. We all opened our paper, and I was so relieved to see I didn't grab mine. Thank God. Wait… what the fuck is this?

'My throat being ripped out by the song of sadness.' Clearly this is the workings of Pigman's deranged brain.

I read it out loud with a stained look of disgust. My eyes glazing over to Pigman, who looked like he was on the brink of tears.

"What do you think the fear is that the writer is describing, Coralline?"

"He's afraid of getting his throat ripped out, clearly."

"Try to dig a bit deeper than that, Coralline. You were a grade A student in English, I'm sure you can decipher a meaning."

I sighed, not wanting to play this stupid fucking game, but Quinzel was asking it of me. I would indulge. "I… maybe there's a secret. A song that he keeps hidden from everyone. A tragedy of his past he won't dare sing because it'll hurt him so much, that it'll feel like his throat is being ripped out."

I looked up at Pigman… Lazlo. He was crying. Did I nail it right on the head?

"Lazlo, are you okay?" Quinzel asked upon noticing.

Lazlo only whimpered in turn, Riddler and the clown weren't sure what to think. Neither was I.

"Maybe go to your corner for a bit, Lazlo. Just go calm down and join us when you're ready. You can give your note to me."

Lazlo huffed and pouted as he scooped his heavy frame off the chair and gave the paper to Quinzel. He walked off to his corner of the room as the rest of us eerily moved along.

"Jay, wanna read yours?"

"The scratching of rats. Yikes. Don't think anyone likes a rat."

"If you had to describe the kind of fear that comes with hearing rats scratching, what would it be?"

The clown pondered for a moment and said, "Pestilence. Fear of being alone. Hopelessness. Anyone who fears a rat, it's associated with something much deeper than just hygiene."

"Okay, Edward, what does yours say?"

Riddler opened his up and said, "The Bat is dead."

"Rodents are the theme today, it seems. What do you think that correlates to, Edward?"

"Batman. Obviously. Someone doesn't want him dead." He stated, not even being discreet as he glared at the clown.

"Okay… then. Well, my turn." Quinzel opened mine up. It had to be mine. She raised a brow at it, and her eyes went to me before lowly saying, "Scarecrow."

I kept my eyes down, my whole body jittering as I bounced my knee. I knew she knew it was mine. She couldn't decipher what it meant, though. I hope.

She observed, "I think this is very little to go on. But we connect human forms with human bodies. Anything still and unmoving like a scarecrow may resemble a corpse."

It's in my peripheral again. She's there. Don't look, Coralline. Don't you fucking look.

"Whoever wrote this had someone they love die and they saw the body, and it could be haunting them."

You're fucking right about that.

"The point of this exercise was to bring together our trauma. To show you all we have pain to share. Healing on your own is a huge feat by itself, but healing with others creates a support system of those you went the journey with. Bonds that will last for a lifetime and continue to have an influence on you. So before I leave this room and you all go off to different corners and ignore each other, think about what I said. I encourage you all to sit down with each other and talk about these fears openly. Let's see where our fears are alike, and how we can overcome together. That'll be all guys. You're free to do as you please for an hour and a half. Remember to water your plants!" Dr. Quinzel grabbed her things and started stacking the chairs as the rest of us just aimlessly wandered to our corners. The door opened and she left behind it. The body was still on the floor. I was trying everything in my power to ignore it, trust me. His voice kept echoing in my head.

'There is nothing to fear but fear itself.'

Go away!

I knew this was all in my twisted little head. But it's like a pain in a muscle you can't ignore. It's something you know is wrong and the fear eats and eats at you till you can barely stand anymore. Why did this have to happen in Therapy Room? Why me?!

I try to keep myself occupied with this beautiful arrangement Dr. Quinzel has set up for me, but I can't even appreciate any of it. Her body is behind me. It keeps moving. I walk left, she's on my right. I walk right, she's on my left. I probably look like a twitching mess. The guys are at the middle table and they aren't looking at me. Pigman is distracted with something in his corner. I'm alone and suffocating. Robinson is looking at me though. Sit down.

I get under my canopy and feel the soft white rug under my palms. I keep my eyes closed. God, my heartbeat is so loud. My chest is tightening. I feel like I want to jump out of my chest. This is a panic attack. Totally normal. You have them all the time. Open your eyes, you're okay. I open them and see my mom's body by the middle table. Sprawled in blood and arms broken and legs bent. I close them shut again. Open. She's still there! Oh my God! This can't be happening! I can't throw a fit here, not here. I need to go.

I shoot up from the rug and speed walk to the observation window. I'm breathing so heavy it hurts.

Robinson squawks, "Atkins, where's the fire?"

I can see Dr. Quinzel with this worried glare as I come up and tap on the glass.

"I wanna go back to my cell."

She presses the button for the intercom. Robinson's hand grabs my arm. Don't fucking touch me! I rip away.

Quinzel speaks through the intercom, "Coralline, what's going on?"

"I need to go! I can't be here!"

"Okay, calm down. Robinson, can you take her with Morello? I'll get Fletch and Bolton to take over."

I heard Morello behind me, "Calm down, Cori. Let's go back to HRS."

I turn around for Morello to shackle me again.

"You alright, baby?" The clown asked aloud. He looked concerned or disturbed. I couldn't tell between the two. Same with Riddler. Pigman was standing against the corner like he was seeing a ghost. Meanwhile, I actually was.

Morello stepped to my side and she was behind her. On the floor broken, her eyes wide open. So much blood I could almost smell it. She's dead. A corpse.

I squint my eyes shut and nearly stumble as Morello and Robinson pull me to the doors. I refuse to open them. I can't control the shaking. I just need to lie down in my cell and sleep. Or scream. Not here where I'm supposed to find myself again. If that can even happen. I'm so lost I don't even know who I am. I've crossed over the vale. I'm seeing things in realms. Normalcy is alien to me.

We are walking the halls and I dare to open my eyes. I can see Dr. Crane waiting at the end of the hall for me. Am I really seeing him or is this just another delusion? I look down the right hall we pass and see her body again, now I know anything and everything I see isn't genuine. There's no telling of my reality anymore.

I spend the rest of this fit in my cell. I see her when I close my eyes. When I hide under the covers. I see her lying on the floor of my cell. There's no escaping this trick my mind is playing on me. A living nightmare of corpses, of scarecrows. He still plays with my mind. I cannot escape him because he is the agent of my fear. The master of puppets. He's tugging the strings even when he's not around.

Another memory. A nightmare. I don't even think I'm asleep yet, but I can see it all so clearly behind my eyelids. My body is shivering just as it was when Bolton came to my cell that night. It passed midnight, no guards should be coming to an inmate's cell and opening the door.

"Let's go, Atkins," his voice so low but echoing in the silence of my cell.

"Where are we going?"

"You have a visitor."

I have a visitor? I never have visitors. Why is there a visitor here so late?! Bolton keeps waiting for me to move and I'm scared he's going to grab me if I don't. I crawl out of my bed and go with him. I should have known this was fucked when he didn't even handcuff me. He just kept hold of my arm and started taking me downstairs to parts of the hospital I've never seen. I shouldn't be seeing this. This isn't where visitation is.

We go into some boiler room. There's so much steam and hissing. I'm starting to fight against his pull. He's stronger than I am. I'm too scared to be angry. I can't fight against it. I wanna go back to my cell. Then he takes me to some supply room and closes the door behind me and locks it.

I'm rattling the knob, "Let me out! The fuck is this! Let me out!"

Then I hear footsteps behind me. They come from the shadowed corner of the room. He's wearing a lab coat. I see the reflection of his lenses. Dr. Crane? Why are you here? Why am I in here with you? Is he going to rape me? What does he want from me?

"Dr. Crane? I want to leave. You can't do this to me, I have rights! Whatever you're planning you're going to pay for it!"

"I'm not going to hurt you, Coralline. I asked you a question our last session, you did not answer it. You're going to show me. Then you can go back to your cell."

"Are you fucking nuts?! I'm not scared of you, pencil-neck!"

"But you're scared of something."

"Let me out! Now! AHHHH!" I started screaming as loud as I could. I whammed my fists against the door.

"You're too deep in the hospital for anyone to hear you, Coralline. I'm your relief. You were an agent of fear when you lived outside. You spread it for fun. Now I want to know what fear truly fears. Would you like to see my mask?"

"No! You try to stick your dick anywhere near me, I'll rip it off! Then show it to the Warden, myself!"

He then put a sack over his head. A sack with eye holes and a mouth laced in threads of fibre. It was haunting to see it over him. He was so tall above me, just looking down at me vacantly. He was like a monster. I couldn't scream, shout or even talk. Suddenly the room was filling with this vapour. I could hear the hissing. My heart was fixing to beat out of my chest. I was starting to numb. Then this panic set in like I was dying. I couldn't breathe, scream, or cry. I just watched him step closer to me.

"In this room I'm not Crane. In this room, you will call me 'Scarecrow'. I am your agent of fear, Coralline. When you show me, Dr. Crane will save you."

Then I saw her. She was lying next to me. Her wide eyes still invoking the same dread when I found her. I could smell the blood off her body. Mommy? Mom! No!

I flew back from her corpse and screamed. My hands clasped my face as I huddled into myself.

"What do you see, Coralline?" Crane asked in a distorted growl.

"No! I won't look! No!"

I kept wailing into my hands as he stepped away from me and grabbed a container. Then I felt little things falling all over me. They were moving so erratically and tickling my skin. They went under my shirt. They were in my hair and dancing on my hands. I whipped them off without even seeing what they were. I opened my eyes for a split second and shrieked at all of these black spiders. He threw the container that housed them to the side of the room. I shot up and fought them off. Her body was still there. My screams ripped my throat. I could feel the burn but I couldn't stop. I ripped off my shirt as I could feel them on my back. Crane roared at me.

"What do you see?!"

"My mom! I see my mom! Please stop! Get them off!"

He turned on the lights to the room and took off his mask. My mom was still dead on the floor, but the lights distorted her in my eyes. Her frame was flickering and glitching. Dr. Crane swept the spiders off me and off my hair. His cold hands clasped my wet cheeks. I tried to fight away from him.

"Coralline! It's okay! You're safe! You showed your fear, you revealed it! It's over now."

"I can still see her!"

"Look at me. Don't look at her. Look at me."

I looked up at him and saw these kind eyes. They were so soft and comforting but he just did what he did. How can I feel this comfort after what he just did to me?!

"You're safe, my dear. Come, come…"

He pulled me in for a hug and my blood curdled. I wanted to crawl from my own skin and from his embrace. I had never felt so worthless to accept his embrace. I cried into his shoulder like a child. Like how I'd cry into my mother's.

"We are all puppets to our fears, Coralline. Even you. You are no more than another cog in place obeying your own fractured mind. Your own demons. I am your angel, Coralline. Embrace me, as you embrace your horror."

I tried to pull away but he kept me in.

"Now… let's do it again."

He released me and I shrilled, "No!"

The lights turned off; the vapour hissed once more.

"I wanna go back to my cell!"

Reality set in again. I'm laying in bed for minutes or hours. I can never tell time in this cell anymore. I hear boots coming up the hall to my cell and radio chatter.

"Atkins!"

Morello is outside my cell door again. It clicks open and she's standing in the doorway.

"Let's go. Dr. Quinzel wants to see you."

"About what?"

"I didn't ask. Probably about the stunt you pulled in the room."

I wasn't seeing her. Not right now. I prayed I wouldn't on my way to her office. I let Morello put the shackles back on and left with her to main floor. My mind was behaving, so far.

Morello knocked on Quinzel's office door and queuing her usual chirping, "Come in!"

I go inside and I'm met with her smile. What I would do to have an ounce of her happiness. I sit down on the chair with only the chains on my wrists making noise. Morello closes the door behind us and it's just her and me.

"Sorry for the irregularity, Coralline."

I asked sullenly, "Why you wanna talk to me."

Dr. Quinzel sighed and pushed her papers to the side of her desk. "I want to know what's going on. You seem like you were in a lot of distress in the Therapy Room today. I was worried about you."

"I'm fine now."

"What was happening that was making you so upset? You were kind of out of it when you came in, then had what appeared to me as a panic attack after we talked about our fears. You gave an especially strange answer in group. Would you want to dive into that now it's just you and me?"

I contemplated it. I wasn't going to tell her about Crane, no way. But maybe she could help with something.

"What's my diagnosis again?" I asked quietly. She started listing it off like she knew it from the drop of a hat.

"Borderline personality disorder. Intermittent explosive disorder. I recently diagnosed you with PTSD and conduct disorder. What I saw today seems like you were having a panic attack. Not at all strange for what you've been through and what you're dealing with."

"I've had them before, I know. Yeah, it came out of nowhere. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Sometimes they do occur for no reason at all. Next time it does happen, please don't be scared to tell me. We can do some exercises together. I can also write a prescription for Ativan. Only to be given when you need it. You have panic attacks quite often?"

"Yeah… they are getting worse. Do… can panic attacks cause hallucinations?"

Dr. Quinzel's eyes widened, "Not usually, no. You were seeing things?"

"My mom. She's dead. I always see her on the floor like… when I found her. I saw her in the Therapy Room, that's why I freaked out. Trust me, I wanted to stay there. I was scared."

"I don't blame you for being scared, Coralline. That sounds awful. I'm so sorry you were going through that, but I feel even worse knowing you felt like you had to go through it alone. You have PTSD which could definitely be causing the hallucinations. You are also weaning off several different medications your previous doctor had you on for a year. It's all relative to these episodes. But, in time the regime you're on will even out and you will feel much better. In the meantime, we can work on the panic attacks. I'm going to stock some sour candies in the Therapy Room. Did you know sour foods can ground you during a panic attack?"

"No…"

"They can! It resets the brain. Distraction and grounding is key during a panic attack. If you don't like sour candies, try sitting down and naming all the things you see out loud. You'll begin to calm down. Practice it while you're fine. It'll come naturally when you are in the middle of another episode. Was there anything that happened today that triggered it?"

Dr. Crane's emotionless glasses flickered in my mind again, "No…"

Morello was taking me to Dr. Crane's office again. There was so much sweat gathering in my palms I felt like I just washed them. The door opened and there he was. The emotions were so distorting every time I'd see him. He had taught me to fear him so tremendously but crave his comfort after the mental torture. He'd go hot and cold, sweet then calculating, he seemed inhuman. He was something unreal. He was an archetype of dread. The year he was my doctor he favoured taking me out of bed at night. Then he'd be so nice in the office during the day. I knew he was Scarecrow. Even when he was Dr. Crane, he was always Scarecrow.

He gives me an emotionless smile and I'm left with him in the office. Today my meds are getting to me. The isolation of my cell is suffocating. He is suffocating.

"Coralline why are you so angry, lately. You bit Officer Fletch yesterday, that is not acceptable. You know that."

I stayed quiet. Watching him like a vulture.

"You must know your actions have consequences, Coralline."

Every syllable he uttered my anger grew worse. I was embracing it. It was liberating.

"You don't want to have another stay in the padded cells do you?"

"No, you don't want that. You can't take me from my cell if I go there. You can't get me there. Maybe that's exactly what I'm trying to do." I spat it with so much scorn, my fingernails pierced into my hands— imagining I was digging them into his face.

He looked down and smiled at his hands, then looking up at me like some embarrassed teenage boy. "You're mad at me. Now I understand. You know I only want to protect you, Coralline. You're mad at Scarecrow, not me. I'm your friend."

"You're fucked in the head."

"Coralline…"

"You should be in here with the rest of us. Wouldn't that be your worst fear, Dr. Crane."

Like the flip of a switch his warmth left. His hazy but comforting eyes were so cold. He was trying to intimidate me. "Now, now, Coralline. Tread lightly. You forget your fears. I don't want to have to remind you."

The anger shot out of me like a punch as I gripped the lip of his desk and flipped it forward. He jumped from his seat and clasped the wall.

"HELP! Assistance!"

"Fuck you!"

I was out of my body as I let anger take the wheel again. It felt so good to let it drive. I grabbed that chair and flung it towards him. He ducked from its strike, but the legs punctured the drywall— sending his stupid framed certificates and awards flying and shattering.

The door opened and Bolton rushed in.

I screamed to the top of my lungs, "I'll fucking kill you next time!" Bolton grabbed me off the ground as I cycled my legs. "Fuck you! Fuck you, Crane!" More Officers came in to rush me out. I took one last glance at his stupid, slack jawed fright on his face, but it wasn't there. I howled and screamed out the doors and he wasn't afraid. He was smiling.

"You monster!"

I was on my way to another Therapy Group, praying that I wouldn't screw it up like I did last time. I was hoping my glued together mind would stay for just a few hours more. Morello and Robinson led me inside, Bolton and Fletch manned the door. Dr. Quinzel was sitting at the chair, with Pigman, the clown and Riddler all waiting for me to take mine. They removed my shackles and I walked in. This time I heard Quinzel's greeting.

"Hello, Coralline! Welcome back. How are you feeling today?"

"Better. I probably won't freak out this time…"

The clown lightly tittered. I gave him a scornful side-eye but wasn't going to let that ugly bastard get to me. This time I was going to be good.

"Alright, so last time we delved into the very touchy subject of fear. This time I want to focus on loss, which may be even more triggering. However, fear is the root of loss. We all fear something to lose. Loss is the root of our fears. All the fears you shared yesterday tie into something we may lose. So… today I have brought some trinkets. Each of them speak on what we've lost. Instead of reacting, we are going to express our emotions in words. We are going to grieve, because its what we need to heal. To accept our fears and accept the loss to move on. Then, we are going to listen and understand how each of us feels about loss. Let's begin."

Dr. Quinzel put a basket on her lap and stood with it. She began handing things to each of us. She started with Riddler giving him a badge pin with something written on it in red. I couldn't see it, but given his eyes zoning out to the floor, I knew it was bothering him. She gave a mirror to the clown, the mirror side he let face the floor as he lazily held it over his thigh. She gave a ticket of some kind to Pigman who began to whimper as he squished it into his fat fist. Then she came to me and gave me a picture. I took one glance at it and immediately my heart fell.

My eyes swelled but I wouldn't dare let a tear fall. How did she even get this picture? Was she creeping on me online? It was my mom and me. We were at Captain Shucks, a seafood restaurant. I was so young, like thirteen. I still had braces. Her hand woven over my shoulder was so distinctly felt as I held the picture in my fingers. Her cheek against mine as we both smiled up at the camera. A lousy picture, low quality, our faces were red from the heat of that place— I remember. The stink of July. The food wasn't even that good. But I remember being so happy. So content in the moment with just her and me. Just another 'date' as we liked to call them. We took them all the time. So many rewards for my good grades, so much time she'd spend in trying to acknowledge it. As long as I was with her I was happy. In that moment, I missed her so much it hurt physically.

Dr. Quinzel was taking time for us to comprehend the objects. She patiently awaited the mourning and spoke lightly, "Okay… I know you all are troubled by these trinkets. There is a very good reason for that, and you are all valid in your feelings now. However, this time you're not grieving alone. We are all here to listen. Let's start with Edward. Can you show us what I gave you, please?"

He replied grittily, "Do I have to?"

"If you really don't want to, that's okay. But… this is your chance to share with us something that's been weighing on you for too long. This may be your chance to unload, Edward. Remember what I've been telling you about keeping it all inside."

He sighed and held the plastic badge up with disdain. It said 'Renewal'.

"What can you tell us about that badge, Edward?"

Riddler slapped the badge on his thigh and relaxed back in his chair before explaining, "A lie."

"A lie to you?"

"Yes. To everyone."

"Yes, but we are talking about you. You were promised a lot by that initiative. How does it make you feel looking at that badge knowing what you know?"

He pressed his lips together while looking into the floor and back at Quinzel he said in almost a whisper— like he was trying not to cry, "Angry."

"Right. That's totally normal to feel that way. You were hopeful and had dreams like all of us. It's not fair what happened to you, Edward. I'm very proud of you for using the word then acting it out. That's a big step."

Quinzel held her hand out for the badge, Riddler gave it back to her promptly like the thing was toxic.

She pointed to the clown, "I gave you a mirror, Jay. I think you know why."

"Because you want me to appreciate how beautiful I am?"

Dr. Quinzel sniggered as Jay had a cackle. His laugh was always so creepy. She said, "Well, I think you are, Jay. But I gave you that mirror because I don't think you do. I think you've been struggling coming to terms with your accident. Now is the time to open up about it."

"Well, it hurt like a bitch when it happened. Still getting over the trauma of that. But meh, appearances aren't really that important in here, are they? The girl I like already thinks I'm beautiful." He winked.

Dr. Quinzel sighed at this. Edward was even lightly shaking his head. The clown really is a clown.

"I think there is still much to unload about your accident and how it's impacted you, Jay. If you don't want to open up in group, that's okay. We will try again in our sessions."

"Looking forward to it, Quinzy."

She stood and took the mirror from the clown and sat back to her chair. She tilted her head and smiled warmly at Pigman.

"Lazlo. Looks like that ticket I gave you took a toll. Would you like to tell us what it signifies?"

Pigman sniffled, "My Garrett…"

"Your husband… yeah. Why does it signify Garrett, Lazlo?"

"Because he was a performer in the opera. He could sing so much better than I. I sing for him… but it's never equal in his muse. He was spectacular…" He shivered at his own words.

Dr. Quinzel said, "You are singing that song that rips your throat. The fear of speaking about him is what drove you to do what you did in that hospital. You are so brave for singing it now, Lazlo. If he was here, he would be so proud of you. Like I am, now."

Oh, no. My turn. I could feel Quinzel's eyes on me.

"Coralline…"

For fuck sakes…

I looked up at her purposely deadpan. "What…"

"You have anything you want to share about the picture I gave you?"

I glared at the faces of the others and sighed, "My mom. She's dead. Here's a picture of us at a shitty restaurant." I flipped the picture over and showed them.

The clown chimed, "Aw. Isn't that nice. You have braces."

I rolled my eyes and tucked the picture under my armpit as I crossed my arms. "There. I shared."

Quinzel kept on me like an interrogator, "How did that picture make you feel?"

"Like shit. Thanks."

"Why does it make you feel like shit?"

"Why the fuck do you think? You give me a picture of my dead mom; you expect anything else other than pissing me off?"

Quinzel was still persisting, not even giving me shit about the swearing, "You're letting your anger win again, Coralline. Now is the time to tell us how you feel. Or just tell yourself, pretend we're not here?"

I looked down and away from their eyes. I started to bounce my knee. I was so angry I felt like throwing my chair back and walking out of that fucking room myself. I was on the spot. I was vulnerable.

"I feel vulnerable." I said it with a wobbly voice as I was trying so hard not to cry. "That's all I wanna say."

I handed the picture back to Quinzel and introverted into myself as I sat on that chair. I angrily detested the eyes looking at me. I muffled out their voices as they carried on the group. My knee bobbing was all I could concentrate on. I tried to blare out the voice of Crane in my head.

Finally Quinzel said, "That's all for today, everyone. Enjoy your time. I'll be in the observation room." Her eyes looked down to me in worry as the others scattered to their corners. I was the last to stand.

"Coralline, are you okay? I know the picture was triggering."

"Fine," I snipped back. "Picture didn't trigger me."

Quinzel raised her chin and held it up to me, "Then keep it by your corner. It's yours, anyway. You should have something of her to keep. Something true." I took the picture hesitantly and left Quinzel to gather the chairs as I fled to my corner. I set it on top of the piano just to rid myself of it, but as I did that, I accidentally flicked my finger down on a key. It hummed briefly, bringing back memories of playing one. It was a simple upright. Black ivory-covered wood. The bench matching the wood of the piano. I grazed my fingers on it, and it brought a small giddiness. I sat down on the bench. I hesitated to press any keys at how quiet the room was. It was here for a reason. I pressed a key to listen to its tone. It was already voiced warm. My favourite sound a piano can sing.

I teased myself a little more with the higher keys. I knew a few songs; I wrote a few songs. I still remembered them. It had been years since I last played, but I wanted to give it a try and reopen a book I thought was closed many years ago. The first song I could think of was one I wrote and played for my mom. I remember how much she loved it, and as I played the opening of it, it all started to flood back. I couldn't do ballet and I couldn't tweak with chemistry, but I could do this.

I started playing. The music came together like dominos falling one after another. It was such a pleasant familiarity to adapt it once again. My hands were beginning to dance. The song was sorrowful, yet hopeful. Like reaching the end of a journey and having to leave the faces behind. It was rejuvenating to play it, much less, hear it. The sound of music was something I could scarcely remember my years spent in this shit hole. I was beginning to get emotional. Memories of my mother again, but not bad ones. The happiest ones. Us dancing in the living room. The smells of her making takoyaki when I got home from school. Cuddling on the couch watching soaps. The piano was just as much my history as was she. Playing that piano was as close as I felt to her in a long time.

I was no longer angry or afraid. The memory of throwing the desk and chair at Dr. Crane was coming out in emotion as I jammed my fingers into the keys. The music kindred with the release I felt when I called him a monster. I wasn't afraid of my mother's death any longer. The tool he was using to control me. She was dead, but her death wasn't the definition of her. There was so much more to her life than the misery of its end. Playing that mournful song, I knew it for certain. I loved her for how she lived. The memories of her alive was everything then.

I would usually play this instrument sitting upright and hands in front like I was taught, but now I was letting my hands moving along the keys taking my body with it. The room behind me was black, in my head I was alone, so I played like I was. Counting and using the rhythm to indulge my own emotion was a trance. I was like a starved animal given a full cooked turkey. I was gorging myself on these notes. The tranquility. The escape.

I came to end of the song, drawing out notes not just for the coda, but to indulge a bit longer. I didn't want it to end but had to accept that it would so a new song could take its place. The song ended, and I took the deepest breath. My eyes closed as I gently laid my hands to the keys. Not pressing just feeling the smooth tops.

Suddenly there was clapping behind me. I looked back and startled in embarrassment at Jay, Edward and Lazlo sitting at the main table all clapping. Jay was clapping with such exaggerated vigour, same with Lazlo who praised 'Marvellous!' Edward was less dramatic, but he was clapping lightly with the others. Wait, am I using their real names?

Quinzel spoke through the intercom, "That was beautiful, Coralline! You'll be taking requests very soon, I'm sure!"

I creased a smile at them. These dickhead murderers didn't deserve one, but I gave it. Might as well address them as their names now in my head. I stood from the piano and lightly bowed as they continued to clap. I didn't want to admit it, but it felt good.

It was a few hours after Therapy Room and Morello took me to my scheduled session with Dr. Quinzel. I was harbouring something deep and rotten, I needed to be free of it. After the glimpse of myself in that room, I knew I had to. I had the strength to do it now.

I sat down in my chair and before Dr. Quinzel could offer her usual squeak of a greeting, my deadpan voice said, "I need to share something with you."

Dr. Quinzel spooked and smiled, "Okay. Anything, of course. What is it?"

"It's about Dr. Crane."

"Oh?"

I sighed heavily in a brief battle with my fear, but my determination and anger won. "I need to tell you what he's been doing to me. I need to tell you because I think he's doing it to other inmates, and he needs to stop."

Dr. Quinzel went still, her lips sealed shut. She was listening intently.

"When he first became my doctor, I was taken to this boiler room by Bolton. I didn't know what was happening, they didn't tell me. He took me to a room with Crane. I was alone with him. Crane used this vapour stuff, I don't know what it is. He says it's his 'fear gas' and its exactly how it sounds. It makes me hallucinate things. I saw my mom dead as a hallucination for the first time then. He put on this creepy sack over his head and called himself the Scarecrow. He said if I didn't tell him what I was seeing on the gas he would put spiders on me. He did, anyway. Then when I finally told him, he like…" I took a breath to compose myself, "… he hugged me. He consoled me. But then he turned off the lights and did it all over again. For hours. He would tell me things. Really fucked up shit, while I was on the gas. It still… it still fucks with me. After that night he would take me back there every once in a while. Me throwing that chair at him last month was me having enough. Me slashing my wrists was me trying to put an end to it. You took me on as a patient and it stopped. But… he still fucks with my head. I'm still so scared of him that I start to see her. I may have done some fucked up shit myself, but I'm already in here. I'm already in hell. I want to be better. No matter what, he's a monster and psychopath and he deserves to be in here just like any of us. I wanted to tell you so many times, but I was scared. For the first time in a long time, I'm done being scared. He needs to be stopped."

Dr. Quinzel didn't say anything but judging the pallor and disturbed gawk on her face, I'd say she was digesting it.

I said quieter, "Just wanted you to know about that…"