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

When The Sirens Came.

When the sirens came, I knew it had all gone wrong.

Dr. Crane is the only one who can prove that I'm innocent. He obviously had proof if he would dare make such a lofty promise.

He knows the truth. I don't even know the truth about what happened that night in our dingy apartment- but he does. He can help me. I just have to help him- I have to save him.

I find myself unbuckling from my wheel chair and booking down the hallway. No one seems to notice, the hall is quite empty. On my way by, I can't help but peer in on the mumbling man they called 'Falcone'. He's still mumbling, glossy eyes glued to the moldy ceiling.

'Scarecrow, scarecrow, scarecrow.'
I shake off the chill that threatens to run down my back and enter the elevator.

Fuck. That key.

Near my previous seat, my nurse re-emerges from the hall and catches sight of me.

I curse to myself and feel my jaw clench tighter, the sound of gun shots ring out below my feet and I freeze- my heart jumping into my throat. The nurse in front of me freezes as well; her eyes wide as they momentarily search the floor.

he's my chance he's my- he can't be dead.

I spot the stairs and take a risk. I hurl down as many flights as I can, stumbling down rows and rows of stairs.

"What do you think you're doing?"
A male voice rings out about four flights down. Looking up from my fast moving feet I see that guard; the one crane saved me from only a week before.

"You crazies"
He had said, that had stuck with me. I summon every decibel of noise within me and screech while running towards him; barring my teeth and flailing my arms.

Crane is my only chance I have to get to him.
Is all that runs through my head.

My only chance. And I need answers.

The guard turns pale and pulls his gun up to aim- but before he can, I grab it. I send my knee hurdling into his groin and he collapses in a heap on the stairwell. If I had the time, I would laugh- smile, say something spiteful. Maybe push him down the stairs. But I don't. I simply grab the gun and keep running.

When I finally reach the basement's door, it's locked. The thin rectangular window is barely enough to see through, let alone use to break in. I kick the metal door angrily and pace away.

"Fuck!"
I yell. There had to be another way.

I race up one flight of stairs and emerge onto ground level. Those windows to the basement; perhaps I can get out and break one... or just get out? Have I accidentally picked the perfect time to attempt escape?

Those familiar plexy-glass doors taunt me; but not a single guard stands watch at the base floor. I'm alone in the eerie cafeteria. I rush through the hallway up to the entrance- but before I can even aim my gun at the door- they simply open. A mustached man slides inside; GCPD on his coat. He holds a small gun in the air as he prowls through the building. I duck inside a dimly lit doorway, trying desperately to steady my breathing. The door slowly glides shut; my heart sinking in my chest. It takes every thing in me not to race for the opening as it latches. But I miss it.

So I duck, carefully, my oddly shaped gun in hand. The mustached man disappears, and I find myself staring out the windows, hidden in the shadows. Red white and blue lights flash between the fabric of the curtains. Car doors slam, men yell. Suddenly; the door bursts open once more. A couple dozen squads of squat team members pour into the asylum. And finally, in the commotion, I slip out the door.