His Darling Assistant

Part 8: Enough

You could hear your heartbeat in your ears thrumming fast as the elevator descended. It had been months since you had ventured into the basement, but Jonathan had been working in it all day and you desperately needed to access the archives. You told yourself you were being a coward; you used to come down to the lowest level all the time, there was nothing to be afraid of. Still, the room at the end of the solitary ward and the screams from it that never seemed to stop were fresh in your mind. When you heard the bell signaling the basement, you steeled yourself and exited the safety of the elevator.

The basement had completely changed. The isolation ward remained where it was, but Dr. Crane had apparently used the rest of the space across from it to open up a lab, complete with a staff of scientists who were replicating a colorless liquid you recognized as his hallucinogen. They had drilled holes into the ground, and you saw a couple of scientists pouring a vat of the toxin into a rushing pipe that you deduced to be a part of Gotham's water supply. You couldn't understand this, as you knew the drug would only work if inhaled in a gaseous state, but it still unnerved you greatly. You felt yourself take a few steps back, aghast at the sight before you.

A scream echoed behind you and with a start, you realized you had unknowingly stepped into the isolation ward. You spun around to face the square window room feeling your heart beat faster. As if entranced, you took one step closer, and then another, as the familiarity of the screams surrounded you. You were almost able to peer into the room when it hit you.

"Joseph," you whispered, taking that one step forward and looking into the square window.

Your ex stared back at you and stopped screaming.

His eyes were bloodshot and tired, his hair disheveled. His normally shaven face was peppered with stubble and a single drop of drool hung from his lips. He looked pathetic. His eyes widened at the sight of you and he smiled, and then laughed, voice hoarse and cracking.

"Finally," he whispered into the air.

"Joseph," you repeated, louder so he could hear you, "what are you-"

"Please," he begged you, yanking at his straitjacket, "let me out of here."

"I-" you started, bewildered. You realized that for whatever reason he didn't recognize you. "I can't-"

"Please, he's putting things in my head and leaving me to rot! The fucking bugs are everywhere, I can feel them-"

"Who, Joseph," your voice was small as the horror dawned on you, "who's doing this to you?" You knew the answer, but you needed to hear it.

"The Scarecrow," he whimpered, suddenly quiet as if he would materialize at the sound of his name. Your heart sank and you took a frightened step back.

"Please!" Joseph yelled for you, terror lacing his voice, "Don't you leave me here!"

His screams echoed around you as you walked slowly backwards. You had to get out of here. You spun around to run to the elevator, your need for the archives forgotten, when the screams from behind the other cell doors sparked some morbidly curious part of you. You inched towards the closest one, clenching your fists tightly and peeked in.

You recognized the man inside from the other night. You were walking home and he whistled at you. He'd said something like, Hey, baby, ditch the nerd and come here for a fun time, and you had felt Jonathan stiffen next to you, staring the man down unblinkingly. You had pulled him away like always, telling him to ignore it, and gone home.

You sidestepped to the next door. The inmate was the same guy from the cafe across the street who had stared at your chest when you ordered your lunch a couple of weeks ago, Jonathan giving him his death stare from across the booth.