His Patient || Jonathan Crane x Reader - Book 1

Guilty Until Proven Innocent

"I already told you," I brushed my cuffed hands through my hair, getting more frustrated as they've been questioning me for two days now, "I didn't do it!"

"You really expect us to believe it was a suicide note? And it was all just what?! Coincidence?"

"You're still here, aren't you?" he continued after a brief pause.

"What..?" I groaned, not fully understanding what he was saying.

"If it really was a suicide note, why are you still here? Why are THEY the ones that died and not YOU?!"

My eyes widened before returning back to their normal state, "I want an attorney," I coldly said.

"Course you do," the officer scoffed.

————

"To be frank, you're case is real open-and-shut, if you want my advice, I suggest you go with an insanity plea."

My eyes widened as I bit back from protesting, I wanted to hear her out.

"With your past history... we can make it work," she continued.

"Past history?" I questioned.

"Your previous suicide attempts, the self mutilation," she stated bluntly, her eyes gazing over the parts of my body that were littered with scars.

"How is getting sent to an asylum any better?"

"Prison's permanent. Arkham's not, not always anyway."

"Arkham?!" I gasped.

"I'll have a psychologist come see you sometime this week or the next one and you can decide what to do from there," she finished, hurrying to collect her things.

Before leaving the room, she turned back to face me, "This really is your best option, Y/n. If I were you, I'd do it."

————

My leg bounced up and down and up and down as the nerves took over. I continued chewing on my nails, not even realizing I'd drawn blood, and sighed as I waited for the doctor. It wasn't until the door opened that I was pulled out of my trance, that I had noticed the blood trickling down my arm.

I took my arm, hiding it underneath the table and in walked a handsome brown-haired man with piercing blue eyes. He looked to be in his late twenties. The man wore a clean, grey suit with a badge pinned to his chest. The badge read Jonathan Crane. And, with a strong grip, Dr. Crane held a black brief case with a silver handle.

I suddenly began fixating on how I must have looked compared to how he did. Quickly, I tried fixing my hair and sat up straight as an attempt to look- at the very least- presentable. He was probably one of the most attractive men I'd ever seen.

"Good evening," he spoke as he sat down in the seat across me, offering a polite smile.

"How are you?" he continued, setting the brief case down.

I scoffed, any interest in the man I had being forgotten, "There's really no need for small talk. You're just here to decide where I end up, so get on with it."

"I'm not your enemy, Y/n. I want to help you."

I rolled my eyes, saying nothing more.

"You just need to be honest with me," sighing before he continued, Dr. Crane took out a couple documents from his brief case.

"There is undeniable proof that the bullet you had was the same one used on your parents."

"So.. that's it then?"

"The bullet was a match, the blood however.. was not. It didn't belong to either of your parents."

"Because I didn't kill them," I retorted, "It's my blood."

"And while that is a convincing argument, Miss Y/l/n, I'm going to need more than that."

I began picking at my skin as I contemplated telling the doctor about that night. As I did, as I drew blood on the back of my hand, the doctors breath hitched.

My gaze shifted from the back of my hand, to him, to where he stared. I noticed a cut similar to the one I had just inflicted on myself, on his own hand.

From my hand to his hand to my hand to his and soon after, Dr. Crane's gaze followed my pattern as well. As he stared at my hand, filled with blood old and new, he looked to be in deep thought.

"Walk me through the events of last night, please." he spoke, clearing his throat and fixing his tie.

And so I began, I started with the events that led up to the moment, the torture and abuse I had endured, and then finally spoke about what he really wanted to hear.

"I guess that's what I get for buying a gun from a sketchy guy.. in a sketchy alley.. in a sketchy city." I dragged on, not knowing where to stop.

"If the bullet didn't work, how did your blood end up on it?"

"It hurt for a while," I sighed, "I think it did work."

"You think?"

"I'd never shot myself before then, Doctor. I don't really know how it works."

"Well, it's really quite simple, ma'am. You either shoot yourself and die or don't shoot yourself and don't die."

"You don't believe me," I mumbled, "Of course you don't believe me."

"I'm having a hard time understanding it all, Y/n. If you could just clear it-"

"I'm trying to," I cried, "but you're not listening!" I threw my hands up.

"I wanted to kill myself, I TRIED to kill myself! All to get away from the craziness and I ended up getting thrown right back in the middle of it!" I shouted, slamming my hands back on the table but regretting it soon after as it hurt.

The doctor shifted in his seat uncomfortably as he began rubbing his hands. Suddenly, his eyes widened. It was as if he had a revelation. I couldn't understand though, and in that moment, I didn't want to. I was too angry, too frustrated.

"You need to calm down." he softly spoke, focusing his gaze now entirely on me as he awaited my reaction.

"Calm down?!" I gripped my knees tightly, as I shut my eyes to stop the tears threatening to rush down, "This is my life on the line here.." I mumbled, gripping even harsher as I refrained from hurting the man.

I finally opened my eyes and despite the blur caused by the tears, I saw a look on the doctors face that could almost be described as proud. It looked as if, in that moment, he had just found out he was right about something.

I still didn't understand and I still didn't want to, I finally spoke up after moments of silence, "Are we done here?"

————

"She really believes what she's saying. In her eyes, she's innocent. It's a coping mechanism to deal with the guilt. I suggest that Y/n be committed to Arkham Asylum where she'll be treated and in good hands." Dr. Crane told the officers, after exiting the room.

As the conversation between the men continued, Y/n sat in silence regretting her decisions. "I should've just acted crazy," she thought as she presumed she'd be sent to Blackgate and not Arkham.

Though both were bad, Blackgate was arguably worse. If Arkham was her only other option, she'd be willing to settle with the latter.

In that moment, Y/n felt nothing but anger. She was angry because no one believed her, angry because her life was officially ruined, and angry because, even after their deaths, she was still cleaning up her parents' messes.

"She'll prove useful," Jonathan Crane spoke into his phone as he exited the building, "I just need to help her control it."

"Perfect," the man on the other end replied, cackling loudly.