>>6275476>>6275478>>6275481>>6275538Be the conductor… The vision comes slowly with more focus but what you see doesn’t match the silhouettes from before. That smell, that goddamned smell, invading your nostrils and permeating your lungs. You feel your hairs stand up and this time it isn’t the work of your shivers. You feel icy spears prodding your heart from all angles, a soured fist clenches in your gut, and your eyes burn with dryness as you stare ahead wide eyed consumed by a primal fear. You feel the corners of your mouth burn with tearing as your lips part and you try to force out a scream. Your shocked eyes watch as the shadows bubble and ooze as rats begin to emerge, they circle around your feet and soon you feel their small claws gripping your stockings and moving up your leg.
“...” You try to scream, but no matter how hard you try nothing comes out.
Just as the largest rat crests your collarbone and places its cold clawed foot on your bottom lip… a new smell strikes you. The sweet aroma of honey suckle… the pressure on your lip fades away and even though you swore you just had them stretched wide your eyes begin to flutter open as new light smears your vision. Leaning above you is a grim visage, a stained sack accented by two sickly yellow eyes traced with thin veins like cracks in concrete. It should terrify you. Objectively you know this. But his face… brings you peace and a feeling of safety. No… deeper than that. This is love.
“Easy now, Queen.” He hums, holding a smoking pellet a few inches from your face as he wafts the cloud towards your nose. “Breathe it in slowly, my dear.”
You close your eyes again and inhale. The sickly sweet smoke seeming to force that other rancid acrid scent from your lungs. You open your mouth to speak, just to feel that same pang of fear again, you clamp your hand over your mouth. Scarecrow cocks his head, the loose rope securing his bag swishing against his stained labcoat.
“You don’t need to stay silent anymore.” He says softly, his bedside manner was always a strength. “The serum worked, you tried to scream your little lungs out but there was nothing. Not a peep.”
He turns from you and rummages on a surgical tray before producing a petite needle and turning to face you once more.
“An adjustment to the dosage and our dream will be reality.” He coos as he lightly strokes your cheek. “There’ll be a slight pinch.”
The needle slips into the front of your throat and for a moment it feels as if you’re choking. The walls of your throat seizing, refusing to even swallow, only for the sensation to pass after a few seconds. You feel your hand enveloped in warmth and glance down. His hand, dry and dark like abandoned leather, strokes the back of your hand gently as he leans forward again. Jaundiced eyes sparkling as he whispers.
“Go on… speak.”
