Uh, yeah

Uh, yeah. I wanted to write a story involving mad people for a long time, and dear Cillian Murphy just happened to pop in my way at the road to success with his brilliant blue eyes and badass acting. I just had to do it. So don’t blame me.

Disclaimer: As much as I’d like to own Dr. Jonathan Crane, he’s of the DC Comics and Chris Nolan (The Cillian Version). But I DO own my dear OC Lisbourne, and any other character that I’ll mention as mine in he following chapters, so NO STEALING!!

Now, on with the story.

The look that the psychiatrist gave me was a look that I’d never forget.

It was almost funny, how he had entered in and found me. Imagine, entering in a room, so white that it could pluck your eyes out, and finding an insane looking woman, lighted by the strong rays of sunlight coming from the wide window, deliriously drawing something.

On the wall.

And looking around, seeing that the bright, white walls are actually covered with more drawings than you had seen in your life at once. The psychiatrist’s expression was the one you’d have when you saw something like that.
The ‘Are you insane?’ look.
But he shouldn’t have found it weird, by being a mad woman’s shrink for over three months now, in an asylum. He should have been used to it by now. So I turned around and gave him the same look.

“Hello, Dr. Atelier.” I saluted the young man, waving a hand at him, and then turning my attention back to my newest masterpiece. Something I liked to call ‘The Breakdown of a Scarecrow’.

“Hi, Christine,” Atelier responded, entering in the room, signaling the two guards to wait outside, and examining the walls.

“Dr. Atelier, how many times I have to remind you that the name I use is Lisbourne?” I said, finishing the sketchy outline of the Scarecrow, now passing to the details.

“But just yesterday you were Christine.” He questioned me, pulling a chair a feet away from me and sitting down, amused.

“Christine is just a cage that my parents tucked me in,” I replied, speeding up my drawing rate now. “Christine’s not here today. That’s why I was given more than one name.” I tilted my head. “To have a more colorful personality.”

“Hmm… Colorful…I like that expression.” Atelier stated, smiling. He leaned forward to look at the wall I was working on. “You’ve added lots of new drawings since our last meeting.”

“Yeah, I’ve been inspired these days.” I responded, adding a worn hat on the still eyeless straw head. “It’s not like I have better things to do, anyway.”

“That, you’re right.” He said, getting up. Walking towards me, he crouched where I was crouched. He examined the drawing closely. “What do you call this one?”

“The Breakdown of a Scarecrow,” I replied staring at his ocean colored eyes, waiting for his respond. I was always fond of staring at his eyes; they reminded me of the Mediterranean Sea I loved so much in my childhood.

“That’s interesting.” He sat on the floor. “May I ask you, Lisbourne, why have you drawn this all of a sudden?” He asked, shaking his head to clear his eyes from the tufts of blonde swiftly falling on his eyes.

“I don’t know, it just came to me.” I replied, suddenly confused. “I’m an artist, why shouldn’t I draw something like this?” I stated, tucking the charcoal pencil behind my ear. Then I sat on the floor as well, turning towards him, cross-legged. The doctor was always trying to discover something from my actions, poor thing. I suddenly wondered what he had found this time.

“Usually you draw more complex things, like ‘the Battle of a Madman’ over at that wall.” He replied, pointing at a drawing at the opposite wall, marvelously done and sketched, inspired by a work of Leonardo da Vinci, a perfect masterpiece in the doctor’s eyes but a mere, unfinished piece of sketch in my insane eyes.

“Oh, you mean like that.” I raised my eyebrows and nodded, showing that I finally understood. “Since the asylum isn’t providing me with painting supplies that I need, and since I didn’t have time to gather all of my supplies while I was being dragged away, I can’t finish my ‘complex’ works, as you refer to them.” I explained, picking my charcoal pencil again. “So, I decided to move on to more ‘simple’ drawings.” I continued my work from the scarecrow’s eyes.

“And another thing, why a Scarecrow?” Atelier asked, staring at my wild, lime green eyes gleaming with pure insanity. I chuckled.

“Why? Just because.” I said, smiling still. The shrink continued staring at me, patiently waiting for a proper answer. A minute or two passed in silence, me drawing, the doctor still waiting.

“Alright, then.” I said. “Since you’re not going to leave me alone in peace, I might as well tell you why.” I passed to the vest of the scarecrow. “I’ve always pitied the scarecrows, you see. They make me laugh.” The vest was finished by the time I had said it. I started on the details of the shirt. “You know, they place a scarecrow in the middle of the field, to scare away the crows. And it works, but for a few days.” My smile grew wider. “Soon the crows realize that something’s wrong, ‘a human has to move, right? Why isn’t this one moving?’ Then they take turns, slowly flying over the scarecrow, and finally settle on him. They realize it’s a mere stuffed sack. They bomb-dive it, rip it, even sometimes build nests on it.” I started drawing a crow. “Crows are not stupid, you know.”

Atelier chuckled. “You have a different perspective over anything.” He said. “I’m going to miss your unique qualities.” I raised an eyebrow.

“Missing? Where are you going?”

“That was the real reason I came here today. To tell you that you’re going to be transferred to a different asylum.” He sighed. “And I’m not going to be your psychiatrist anymore.”

“But Doc, you can’t leave me.” I protested, suddenly hugging him tightly. Here in this madhouse, Atelier was the only strand holding me to clear consciousness. Him, and my lack of sanity.

“I’m sorry, but they don’t think that this asylum is enough to treat you anymore.” He said, patting my head. Then he got up, encouraging me to get up as well. “Come on, be the big girl you always are.” He said, trying to get me out of my suddenly infant state.

“Alright.” I said, sniffing, then my attitude changing suddenly. “It’s the seventh time they changed something anyway.” Atelier was my seventh doctor. Before him, I’ve had five doctors in this asylum and two more at the first asylum I was in.

“Goodbye, then.” The psychiatrist said, walking over to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, when you’re being transferred.” He said.

“I’ll pack my things, then.” I said, suddenly starting to rip out the white wallpaper of the room carefully. As a reply to the weird look he gave me, I said, “I didn’t draw them on the walls for a stupid reason.” I continued ripping. “Geez, and they call me crazy.”

He chuckled and exited the room. Little did I know, the reason of my sudden transfer was my relationship with the doctor. They had decided that our relation was going beyond the patient-doctor relationship, and since my problem was complex and he was the best in the asylum, they had decided to transfer me to another asylum that had a much better doctor than Atelier. One that had more than Atelier’s qualities and wouldn’t carry the patient-doctor relationship further.

That asylum just happened to be the Arkham Asylum and the doctor happened to be Dr. Jonathan Crane. Purely coincidental. An asylum and a man I knew nothing of.

Or, so I thought.