A WATCHFUL EYE - Jonathan Crane Fanfiction

Part 1 - the asylum

MIA
Monday night.
I returned from another day of working at that bleak, bare, asylum. My apartment was no different. The walls had peeling paint and mould grew in the corners. A cold, damp, air blew through as the lights softly flickered above me. I placed my keys on the wooden, collapsing table by my door and hung my coat up on the railings.

I lived on the 10th floor of a tall, grim, apartment building in Gotham that was surrounded by many other apartment blocks and shops. After growing up in a somewhat nice, clean, house - i longed to be 9 again, tucked up in my clean sheets and warm room.

I'd felt welcomed every time I'd opened the door to my childhood house. The apartment didn't bring the same feeling, yet it was still home. The home i'd bought myself by working hard at the asylum by sorting files and making coffee. I slumped myself on my bed  - hearing the springs creak in protest. I couldn't watch TV anymore as it had broken a long time ago due to my ceiling leaking water right above it. However, having no TV brought back my fondness of reading books and huddling in my bed to read them.

I didn't exactly have a bedroom, so my bed was in the room that extended off of the kitchen. My main light flickered off, leaving only my lamp to glow in the darkness. I huddled under my sheets, not bothering to change, and switched the lamp off. I had wanted to read tonight, but the sleepless nights had slowly taken me over - meaning i ate less and slept more.

One more week at that f#cking asylum before I can actually have a break. I thought.

The idea of finally having a break, even if it was only for a week, lingered in my mind and eventually i drifted off to sleep.

• TWO DAYS AFTER •

Wednesday.
A few years ago, before she died, I'd finally told my mother that I'd got the job at Arkham asylum. She had urged me to not take it. Anyone would do the same. The rumours of the asylum were not good ones - tales of mad men, abusers, criminals, the worst of the worst, - inflicted the minds of any that talked about it. It soon became an area most people avoided as they feared being sucked away into this dark, evil, place.
And I worked there.
Walking the same halls that those who were absolutely mental did. Those as mad as the joker - or even worse.

I hadn't listened to my mother when she tried to reason with me. I knew how much it would make her worry, but it was the only job available that seemed easy enough and paid well. I needed it. I needed to start my own life in my own apartment.

I woke in that apartment now. The faint sound of cars and chatting people drifted through the thin windows and it awoke me from my slumber. I sat up and examined my crumbling room, yet again seeing the same thing I saw everyday. I still hoped to one day wake up in a beautiful house in a beautiful room.
I believed that day would never come.

My fridge only contained a bottle of milk and a ready meal curry. Taking the milk, I closed the fridge door and opened my cupboard to see the remains of my favourite cereal.
Breakfast.
I sat back down on my bed and began to munch away - only now realising I was starving hungry. I quickly glanced at my watch - 9:43am. I had to get to the asylum for 10:30 -meaning I had time to get changed and ready for the day. Finishing my cereal, I placed the bowl and spoon by my sink and returned to my bed again.

My clothes definitely need changing, I thought. I wont need a shower though as I had one yesterday morning.

My clothes had become crumpled from sleeping in them so I changed them for clean ones. I had chosen black trousers and a white shirt with a black jacket to wear. Although my apartment was falling to bits, I took pride in making sure to stay clean and always wearing presentable clothes. I brushed your teeth and quickly brushed through my brown hair. As I looked myself in the mirror, those same hazel eyes stared back at me - cold and distant.
I was tired.

Locking my door and running down the stairs to get to the ground floor, I looked at my watch again - 10:00. I had about 25 minutes if I wanted to get there on time, so I rushed to get to my car. Strapping myself in, I turned on the engine and prepared myself for another day of being surrounded by madmen.

AT THE ASYLUM

I pulled my car up by the pavement, leaving it, not next to the asylum, but near it.
I clambered out of my car, remembering to pin my badge that read - Mia Foster - onto my coat. I walked with a swift step, constantly reassuring myself that I wasn't late. I looked at my watch - 10:23. I'd just about made it, giving myself a few minutes to walk there and get inside.

At the asylum I worked with my friend Poppy - who soon grew to be my best friend. She was an intelligent, outgoing, person that made me enjoy my work and kept me going. I saw her as I walked up the steps to the entrance - her gaze scanning my face of tiredness.

"Mia you look terrible. Why don't you ask to have days off?? You know you need them so I don't understand why you don't." She spoke, with a tone of care and dissatisfaction.

"This is our last week of work before we finish and have our break - it'd be pointless to take days off now. And anyway, I'm completely fine I've just been having a few bad nights. That's all."

Poppy knew I was lying. I hadn't been able to sleep for months as the stress of my bills grew in my mind. I didn't know what to do.
I felt completely helpless.

"Ok fine. I'll believe you for now. But when we have that break I want you to really let yourself rest otherwise you're going to burn out." She said, shutting the doors behind us as we both walked into the asylum.

Poppy didn't know my bills had grown over the past few months and she definitely didn't know I had no money to pay them all. She was only trying to be the reassuring best friend I needed - yet she didn't seem to help.

Walking into the asylum was like entering an entirely different area. It had clean, bleak, white walls that were lit by lights that shined brightly above. It was always so clean. An unsettling kind of clean. The eeriness of the building made my body shudder as I walked with Poppy to the coworker room. There were other workers there of course, but I didn't know any of them as well as I knew Poppy. In fact, I didn't know most of their names as they never even bothered to try and talk to me.
The only other worker I knew was Dr Crane.
Jonathan, Crane.

We both placed our bags in our designated spots and looked at each other with a sigh. We both knew it was another day of running round and sorting files and then making continuous coffees for different staff. But it was our job. And I needed the money.