Fear Behind The Mask (Scarecrow/Gotham Fanfic)

Chapter One: Isolated

Chapter One: Isolated

The sound of my front door ripping off of its hinges reverberates through the air.

My breathing isn't normal. My lungs are utilising more than four times what they should be making my chest begin to heave and resulting in pain erupting throughout my ribcage.

I lay here in the nursery room, propped up against the crimson-stained wall. Did you know this room used to be another colour? It was once a beautiful blue, I remembered when I and my husband chose it in the department store, we debated for around ten minutes on what shade of the primary colour to choose. I won that discussion... Yay me...

My hair was once the colour of warm chocolate, a glossy texture, you could run your fingers through it and there would be no knots, well... there would be some clumps of stray hairs that would fall into my hands if I tried. I still wonder how I am not possibly bald with the amount of hair that falls from my head.

Now my hair was sticky and red. The crimson substance hung in my hair tying strands together, clumping them so that they were now beginning to harden.

My hair would be a bitch to wash.

My face was also covered in the same matter and was starting to dry and peel like skin, it was just like another layer on my face.

My eyes were like a panda's. Now there are days where I forget to take my make-up off and my entire face is black with the remanence of mascara, eyeshadow and liquid liner from the previous night but this time, tears garnished my face. My eyes were once a bright green but now they were bloodshot and red with swollen skin clasping together making my vision blurred.

Only minutes ago did I ring the emergency services. Minutes ago, I was frantic, I couldn't even stand.

As a child, you never imagine ringing those three numbers, your fingers applying pressure to the plastic buttons as the dial tone beeps every time you press another button.

My hands were shaking the entire time and my voice sounded as though a tap had been left running. Words sputtered out of my mouth, not elegantly like in movies or TV shows, oh no, my voice was like a tsunami of words I had never heard of.

So thank you brain for that, you were very helpful.

Shock.

Such a funny word. A word to describe how one feels when they have experienced or seen something that horrifies them to the bone.

Barging footsteps, surround my home.

The room.

Clattering and heavy, awakening me from my subconscious thoughts.

My head is now down, facing the wooden floor.

I dare not look up. I dare not see the faces, the preaching eyes that scare me. I should have been able to save them, to save both of them. I want to save them. But no longer can I.

If I had not been late from work, then they would still be alive. Both of them still living.

Not dead on the floor of the bedroom or nursery.

Claire now is not the time for your victim's guilt to come into play. You need a clear mind, do you hear me? A clear mind so that people can understand your version of the story.

"Over here!" a male voice shouts as my head slowly lifts from the floor, my eyes burning as a new light hits them.

Tears flow down my face and splash onto the floor. Echoing in the distance.

"We found her! Nobody move!"

Wait why are they shouting like that? I didn't do anything! Do they think I did this?!

I see from the corner of my left eye flashing yellow lights.

Please let it be God. Let it be the angels coming for me. Let me free from this world.

But to my misfortune, it was not the angels. Nor God. They were torches and guns.

"Mrs Robson, put your hands where we can see them." A man in black leather and a gun pointing at me demands.

A GUN?! WHY DO THEY HAVE GUNS?! ARE THESE PEOPLE APART OF A FIRING SQUAD?!

"I said put your hands in the air!" the same man orders, his voice harsh and demanding.

Submissively, I slowly lift my hands and make sure that they are visibly clear.

I AM NOT A THREAT! I REPEAT, I AM NOT A THREAT!

Another man enters the room. An air of authority covers his presence but I somehow feel comforted by him, maybe because he's the only one who isn't aiming a gun at my head.

He has dark brown hair and a moustache on his upper lip. A pair of spectacles dangles on his nose and he has a golden shining badge on his jacket.

"Claire Robson, I am arresting you on the charges of murder of Matthew and Toby Robson." the man says as he bends down to my level to meet my eyes.

I feel more tears fall down my face.

I didn't do it! I swear, I just went to work and came home. I didn't kill them! I couldn't!

"Mrs Robson?" the man asks again as he notices the confusion in my eyes. I shake my head at him and bite my lower lip, my voice feeling hoarse as I try to speak.

"I... I didn't..." my words are jumbled, nothing makes sense.

SPEAK WOMAN! THEY'RE GOING TO TAKE YOU TO JAIL!

I pause as I look around the corner and break down on my knees shrieking.

There facing me is the little black-eyed and haired doll that started it all. Its eyes were burning into me and I couldn't move. I look at it and continue to scream. The men all have their hands on their ears.

"Take her in NOW!" the second officer yells.

I stop screaming and shut my mouth.

"Clairey... let me back in..." a female voice calls inside of my mind.

I stare silently at the little creepy doll.

"I've been asleep for too long, let me out, let me be free..." the sickly sweet voice asks as I continue to stare numbly at the doll, not moving a muscle as the officers try to pick my body up off of the ground.

My Voodoo Doll. My childhood friend. The start of everything.

"Help me..." I mutter under my breath, my voice broken, drained.

"We're going to have so much fun together," she says as I feel my head become clouded.

This was my new form of isolation.