Terror (Part 1 of the Valeska Series)

Arkham Asylum

✮ a c c a l i a  POV✮

Not even an hour later, Jerome is being shipped off to Arkham Asylum. They had a fight from me, that's for sure. I wouldn't let him go, and, every time one of the officers tried to take me from him, I would scream. Jerome wouldn't let them near me either. If any of them tried to lay a hand on me, he would instantly lash out. It was like an animal defending its mate - they would fight to the death to save the one they love. The ginger is no different, and neither am I.

Eventually, Barbara managed to get me away from him. Kicking and screaming I fought against her as several officers were having trouble restraining Jerome. His eyes were promising death to all of the police officers, and anyone else who decided to lay their hands on me. A sharp prick stings my upper arm and my eyes widen as I look over to see Dr Nygma with a syringe in his grasp, an apologetic look on his face. Through the haze, I force myself to look back over to where the officers were dragging Jerome out of the precinct.

"Accalia!" His cries fill the building. "Damn it! Let go of me! Accalia!"

I can't manage more than a whisper. "Jerome."

"Cali! Don't you go to sleep! Stay awake!"

"Ginger, help me."

"Accalia!"

✮✮✮

Warmth encompasses me and a familiar scent tickles my nose, causing a small smile to grow on my face. Reaching out, I seek the source of the warmth, only to soon reach the cold material of the sheets not too far from by body. My eyes fly open and I push myself into a half sitting position, my head spinning and the entire room becoming out of focus. There's no ginger in here; only the red of my pillowcases. It really happened. I thought it was all just a bad dream.

"Jerome," I breathe in a scratchy voice. Registering the dried tears on my face, I look down at my pillow to find a wet patch. I had been crying in my sleep. "No. Damn you, James. You just had to keep pushing."

"How are you feeling, Miss Gordon?" Dr Nygma says, walking into my room without knocking. "Officer Gordon and Miss Kean are worried about you after what happened at the GCPD."

"You stay the hell away from me. You drugged me!"

"You were going to hurt yourself, or someone else. I had no choice."

"Letting me go to my friend would have been a better one."

"He is unstable. There was an almost 98% chance that he was going to end up seriously hurting someone. None of us were prepared to risk that being you."

I stand from my bed and stalk over to him, backing him up against the wall. "He's the unstable one? Mr Nygma, you're not as stable as you believe yourself to be. I mean, how could you be? You talk to yourself!"

His eyes narrow. "He is not a figment of my imagination, Miss Gordon!"

"Now, who would be interested in hearing that, Edward? Possibly, Commissioner Essen. Or maybe even James Gordon?"

"You little b***h!"

His hand wraps around my throat and he spins us around, forcing me up against the wall. At his actions, a crazy laugh escapes me. His grip tightens and I feel my air supply beginning to be cut off. My laugh grows and Edward grows confused, his brow furrowing and his lips parting. I stare at him with twinkling eyes and a smirk plastered onto my face. It must unnerve him, because his hand disappears from my body and he steps back, his eyes searching my face.

"Oh, Edward. I knew there was a dark side to you."

A smirk graces his face. "You don't know the half of it, Miss Gordon."

I raise my eyebrow and cross my arms. "I have a favour to ask you."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"I want to visit Jerome."

"Very well. I'm not against it. Come with me and I'll give you a lift."

Half an hour later, the asylum looms above us. It's like a scar on Gotham that's never going to heal, and it's an ominous presence that would give even the most unfeeling individual a sense of dread of foreboding. Edward looks over at me, but doesn't hesitate to drive through the front gates once everything is in order. Pulling up out the front, as soon as I am out of the car, a guard guides myself and Edward inside and over to the main desk, telling us to write down our names, who we want to visit, and how long we plan on spending at Arkham - but nothing longer than three hours.

Feeling tears sting my eyes, I fill out the boxes, my hand shaking as I write my best friend's name. I reluctantly write out the maximum amount of time, wanting to write a larger number. The receptionist hands us two visitor passes to clip onto our shirts, and then snaps her attention up to us when she reads the name on the form. Her hazel eyes are shocked, and borderline scared. She knows exactly who Jerome is, and that means she would have heard about the girl he spent most of his time with - me. Although, I'm not sure if the Gazette has kept my name out of the papers or not.

"Miss Gordon," the guard says. "Please follow me. I'll take you to one of the visitation rooms we have sectioned off."

Quickly walking after him, we round the corner. "Are there any rules?"

"Considering that Mr Valeska was only admitted here yesterday, I would say that there will be a guard in the room - most likely me. I'm not entirely certain about physical contact. Since he has been here, Mr Valeska has been in several fights."

"Excuse me?!"

"It's a sort of rite of passage here. In order to establish themselves among the other inmates, the new admissions are required to show their strengths and weaknesses in order to be decided where in the hierarchy they place."

"And where exactly is Jerome placed?"

The guard chuckles at my attitude. "Mr Valeska has proven himself to be very... strong and manipulative since his arrival. He's made himself a name and place in the highest group."

"That sounds like my ginger."

"We're here."

Stopping outside a door, I feel myself hesitant to open the door. Looking over to Edward for support, he smiles encouragingly and motions for me to open the door. Smiling in thanks, I grip the door handle and twist it to the side, hearing the lock click as the door begins to swing inwards. Swallowing, I push the door further open and step inside, my eyes sweeping the small and slightly furnished room. It is the object in the corner that really catches my attention.

It's a bed.

I look over my shoulder, giving the guard a strange look. "Mr...?"

"Scott," the guard supplies.

"Mr Scott, why is there a bed in here?"

"Some visitors have loved ones here. They come to meet, and, sometimes, f**k. We don't leave the cameras on while the inmates are doing that, but we are required to leave on audio just in case the inmate has breakdown and starts to act out."

I wrinkle my nose in disgust. "Please tell me you change the sheets once that's done with."

Mr Scott laughs. "Of course we do. We're not all horrible people here, Miss Gordon."

"That's a relief."

"Now, please take a seat. I will bring Mr Valeska along with me."

Just as he is about to leave, I stop him with my words. "I like you already, Mr Scott. Do not let me down, or make me feel as though I have no reason to trust you. If you do, you will see a whole new kind of crazy."

His blue eyes laugh as he looks over his shoulder. "Alright, miss. I'll take your word on that."

Leaving the room, Mr Scott closes the door, locking it behind him. It makes my stomach turn. Although I know it's more for our safety from the inmates more than anything else, it still gives me an uneasy feeling. Edward sits on one of the chairs at the table and pulls his glasses off, setting them on the table. Sighing, I make my way over to the bed and sit, sinking into the softness of the mattress.

The minutes tick by and an uneasy feeling blankets the room. The longer I sit here, the more I feel as though he doesn't want to see me. Edward sees my uneasiness, but doesn't make a move to comfort me. From the look in his eyes to the relaxed body language, I can tell that the person in this room is not the Dr Edward Nygma everyone at the GCPD knows; this is the darker half of Edward Nygma that none see. I feel as though this man is desperate to get blood on his hands.

"Do you not think he's coming, Accalia?" Edward asks, the use of my name confirming my suspicions. "Do you honestly think that he won't want to see the girl he loves?"

My heart skips a beat at his words. "Ginger? Love me? Please. We're just friends."

"What I saw yesterday was not 'just friends'. That boy is in love with you."

I stay silent, my mind spinning.

"They say sociopaths don't feel human emotion, but that's wrong."

"Psychopaths don't feel. Sociopaths are just people with an antisocial personality disorder. It's a cluster B personality disorder - those which are dramatic or emotional. While the traits of each may seem similar, it is thought that sociopaths have a less severe form of lack of empathy and lack of guilt. It is thought that sociopaths may be able to form some deep bonds, while a psychopath cannot do so."

"A psychopath is callous, yet charming," Edward adds. "He or she will con and manipulate others with charisma and intimidation and can effectively mimic feelings to present as 'normal' to society. They are organised in their criminal thinking and behaviour, and can maintain good emotional and physical control, displaying little to no emotional or autonomic arousal, even under situations that most would find threatening or horrifying. The psychopath is keenly aware that what he or she is doing is wrong, but does not care."

"Jerome is like that, but he shows quite a lot of emotion around me."

"There's your proof. He loves you. After all, you have been there since you were... six? Seven? He was only eight at the time. So, you would have impacted on how much of the psychopathic and sociopathic traits he took on."

Just as I am about to reply, the lock clicks and the door swings open. A flash of ginger is all I see, and that's enough for me to jump to my feet. Forest green eyes stare into mine with glee and I feel my eyes begin to burn, tears forming as I take in the slightly battered boy in front of me. He only takes a few steps into the room and I run over to him, throwing myself into his arms and beginning to sob as his arms wrap themselves around my waist, and his face burying itself into the join of my neck and shoulder.

"Hey, little terror."

"Ginger..."