Fear (A Scarecrow Fanfic)

Chapter Ten

It was only when the beaker was completely empty he let me go.  I waited for something to happen, feeling my chest tighten as I held my breath. He watched me silently as he waited for a result.

'Don't panic!  Don't be afraid,' memories trying to resurface as I pushed them back.

The longer I held my breath and waited, drowning in the anxiety that was building up in my chest and making my heart pound, the harder it became to hold back the memories and sense of failure that came along with them.  Images began racing through my mind as I lost control.  Again, I saw my father's smiling face, my brother's broken body, and heard noises that had haunted me for years.

Somewhere during the experience, I no longer saw the basement or Jonathan, lost in my personal hell.  I recalled memories I didn't know I had, ones that were buried so deep, they were secrets to me.

I don't know how long the fear toxin lasted, but I was left gasping for breath, tears rolling down my face when I finally snapped out of it.  I was no longer standing, on my hands and knees.  My throat hurt even worse and I had a headache.

Jonathan sat in the chair again, watching, still wearing his costume.  I glared at him for a moment before scowling down at the ground.

"Very interesting," he said.

I didn't answer, listening as he stood from his chair and returned to the table.  From the corner of my eye, I watched as he took a bottle and measured out some of its contents, adding it to a beaker. Once my breathing stablized, I sat with my back against the pillar, tired, my stomach rolling every few moments in fear.

My eyes closed, but I spoke my demand clearly, my horse voice not even shaking, "I want to go home.  You will let me go home."

He chuckled, amused, "You might want to get comfortable, Doctor Brown.  I suspect you'll be here for a very long time."

"Why?" I wanted answers, knowing he would avoid my question, leaving me clueless.

He changed the subject, like I knew he would, "I'll have one of my men bring you something to eat and drink."  He poured the compound he had mixed into a smaller container, putting that in what I thought was a drying oven.

Temporarily finished with his work, he stepped away from the table, turning and walking for the door.  I watched him reach for the door handle.  Before he left, I called out to him.

"Where are you going?"

"I have some business to attend too," he said before leaving.

I stared silently at the door, listening as his footsteps faded into the distance.  Alone, I looked down at the metal clamps around my wrists, wondering if it was possible to pick them.  If I twisted my wrists the right way, I was able to touch the keyhole.  All I needed was something small and sharp.

I looked at the table, not spotting my purse amongst the glassware.  Grabbing the chain, I stood and walked around the pillar, seeing nothing more than some shelves and more barrels along the wall.  Defeated, I slumped back down against the pillar, leaning my head back.

'Perhaps if I wait long enough, I may have the opportunity to get a hold of something useful like...' I felt fear creep up on me, 'You have no idea how to pick a lock, Sarah.  If you try anything, you'll fail and make things worse for yourself.'

'Just wait for help to arrive,' I told myself, wanting the fear to subside.

The humor of my situation hit me and I couldn't keep a small smile from curling the corners of my lips upward.  Out of all the things to be afraid of, I should've been afraid to die.  Instead, I was afraid of my memories and of failing.  Neither could hurt me physically and they were both irrational in my current situation.  But no matter how much I tried to be afraid of Jonathan, I couldn't be.

'I suppose that's a good thing.  At the very least, I can still use my reasoning.'  I took a breath, promising myself, 'I will not let Jonathan get into my head.  He will be caught by Batman and return to Arkham Asylum. Then everything will return to normal and I will continue trying to help him until Dr. Aldrich resumes his duties.'