Fear Awakened [Jonathan Crane / Scarecrow]

009

[Strong trigger warning for physical abuse]

"Get in the car this instant, Jonathan."

Jane had never seen the woman up close before, her wrinkled skin gathering where her lips formed a tight, thin line, her hate filled eyes trained on Jonathan.

Without a word, he begrudgingly began to shuffle forward; he knew forcing Granny to wait would only make his punishment that much worse.

"Jonathan," Jane whispered his name, doe eyes full of fear. He might have secretly relished that wide eyed expression, had he not been full of the same emotion.

"Don't," he mumbled back. "Meet me here this evening."

The old woman may have had a keen eye, but her hearing had been gone for ages.

Jane watched in horror as he dutifully made his way to the car, his eyes catching hers one final time before he took a seat inside of it.

Grandmother Keeny refused to so much as dignify Jane with a parting glance as she pulled away up the street, Jonathan being careful to keep his eyes trained downward.

"What did I tell you about keeping company with those types of young women?" Granny asked rhetorically. "I come to retrieve you from school so that you might not ruin your clothes in the rain, and I find you kissing her. Have you no shame, Jonathan? Is this the type of young man I raised?"

He did not respond. Trying to formulate an explanation would only make things needlessly more difficult.

"No grandson of mine will keep the company of some young harlot and see damnation for sins of the flesh," she decreed, gripping the steering wheel tightly as they pulled into the driveway.

"Jane isn't a harlot," he barely breathed.

"What was that? What did you say?" Granny snapped, only able to see that he had spoken in the rearview mirror. Her cold blue eyes, so much like his own, burned into him from her reflection.

You already know what she's going to do to you, the voice reminded him, daring him to push further. For the first time that day, he heeded the advice he was given.

"I said - Jane is not a harlot," he attempted to sound confident and sure of himself.

"The devil has twisted your mind and your heart if you really believe that little twist in a skirt loves you," she hammered home the point, once again, that he was quite unloveable.

"Get in the house, put on your jacket, and wait by the stairs," she ordered, killing the ignition.

Jonathan's stomach bottomed out. He dare not say anything, though his punishment could not get much more severe - she was taking him there.

Don't cry, Jonathan. Don't make us look weak. Look that old bitch in the face and stay strong.