The Skin That Crawls From You [A Jonathan Crane Fan-fiction]

Playtime.

Raven Alcott
(TW: Torture, Death Themes)

Sleep is my only escape. It's all that I have left.

When I sleep, I dream. When I dream, I see him. The 'joker' is no where to be found; and I dream of Jonathon in a black tuxedo with his hair slicked back, my golden ringed hand looped just under his arm. I dream of Jonathon kissing me and giving me promises I can actually believe in. In some dreams, however, I press my lips to his and happily drain every ounce of life from his bones. Then I smile as he slumps to the earth as an empty shell of a man. It simply depends on the dream. Today's dream consisted of him and I boarding a plane and leaving this hell hole. It consisted of Jon inviting me to the airplane's bathroom (discreetly), and upon our meeting, I happily press my hand to his throat and watch his soul leave his body. Like I said; it simply depends upon the dream.

When I wake up, I'm alone. My scalp aches from yesterday. The 'Joker' yanked me from the cage and commanded two hearty guards to hold me as he 'plucked me' like a bird. He ripped clumps and clumps of hair from my head for what felt like hours. I ended up throwing up from the pain. The joker then forced me to eat it.

Every day I've been receiving bird seed, bread crumbs, and water inside of a decorative bowl. I have tried to go on hunger strike, to starve myself, to dull my senses with the haze of starvation in hopes of feeling just a little bit less. But that proved a mistake, as the joker stalked into my holding room and slammed on my cage. He yelled about his 'hospitality' while manically pointing to the untouched scraps within my cage. He then pulled me from my dwelling and tied me to a metal chair where his guards took turns slamming batons into me.

I'm not sure how long I have been trapped here. All I know is that I haven't showered, and the feces in the bottom of this cage is beginning to pile up to the floor bars.

I think it was about three days ago that I attempted escape. When a guard brought me my tray of rations i grabbed the collar of his Kevlar vest and yanked him against the bars. I then pressed my other hand to his cheek. His eyes rolled back and he fell limp against my cage. I tried desperately to reach his pockets, to reach his keys, but upon further examination- he held no such thing. He simply brought the food. The 'joker' was quite amused when he came that afternoon for 'playtime'. That day, he took it easy of me. He tied me up and brought in a machine similar to the one which Dr. Quinn used on me at Arkham. He simply turned it up much higher and gave me no anesthesia.

I don't need to attempt starvation anymore in order to dull my senses, the pain is beginning to do that for me. The other day, the joker ran a knife down the length of my forearm. I laughed as I bled out, happily. I laughed as my vision faded. He laughed with me. Then I cried as he sewed me back up with a rusty needle and string.