Paper Planes

I

"It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more."
— Albus Dumbledore

|•|•|•|

Ember DeLoughrey trudged through the mud, her violet tinted rubber boots sinking into the thick clay as she stuffed her hands deeply into her denim overall pockets. Violent gusts of wind threw her blonde locks astray as she shivered from the cold.

It was nearing midnight in Gotham, and not a single soul stood within miles of the woman, trembles wracking through her body as she kept her head low, an uneasy feeling settling in her belly as she rounded the side of the heavily gated Arkham Asylum.

Typically, she'd take the long way home from her closing shifts at the boutique, but tonight she couldn't help but want to get home quicker to watch reruns of Friends before bed.

As she observed the grim building, a sudden chill ran down her spine. It horrified her to even begin to imagine the horrors and hells behind those thick, concrete walls. The abundance of psychopaths, lunatics and freaks that sat in padded cells, their arms locked together under the comfort of a straight jacket. Ember's heard plenty about some of the scum that sat behind those rusted bars, rotting away in their cells as they payed for the horrific crimes they'd committed.

Thunder clapped overhead, a low growl of creaking steel echoing throughout the back of the institution as her dark eyes glared in the sounds direction. A thick set of woods sat behind the building, dark trees forming into fearsome figures as the leaves swayed in the wind.

She froze in place, the feeling in her legs dissipating as her heart lept into her throat. A sleek black SUV, clad with dark tinted windows and thick, silver rims sat parked directly outside the chain-link fence, a gaping hole cut out of the material, large enough for a six-foot man to easily slip through.

Her legs began to shake, her eyes darting in several directions as if to search for a possible escape route.

Unfortunately, she'd already been seen.

"Hey!" A voice barked, her legs scurrying backwards as her heel collided with a deep hole of mud, her rubber boot sinking quickly as she toppled backwards. Her limbs were coated with fresh sludge as a yelp escaped her chapped lips.

"Grab her!" A second voice called, her eyes widening as she struggled to stand, the tall, black frame of an unidentified figure approaching her quickly.

A bald man, standing easily over six feet with a thick, brunette beard cupped her elbows, tearing her abruptly from the mess of mud as she screeched in fear.

"Get off!" She cried, her hands slapping miserably against his rock-hard chest as he effortlessly dragged her towards the vehicle, joining two other men dressed in black.

"Who the hell are you?" One of them barked, his voice muffled by the bulky plastic of a wilting clown mask, large circles cut out of the eyes allowing the man to properly see.

Ember diverted her gaze, cowering against the tall man as she wept.

She fucking hated clowns.

"I asked you a question, bitch." The clown seethed, taking several steps forward as he approached her, the stained flesh of his pudgy hand darting outward to encapture her shirt in his palm, contorting it into a ball as he tugged at the fabric, bringing her closer to his masked face.