It was yet another busy day for Jonathan, so he woke up early to leave for work after a quick shower. The cold water ran down his body, reminding him that he had forgotten to install a heater to warm up the liquified ice dripping from the taps.

As usual, he put it off for later, letting the cold bite his skin, thinking he would get it fixed soon.

However, the word soon didn't exist in Jonathan's dictionary.

Fixing himself a quick breakfast, as he had taken the pains to go grocery shopping the previous day, he sat alone on the table, his thoughts a wandering mess.

What did Charlize Fischer see in him? The question swirled in his mind with no possible answer.

Rinsing the solitary plate and cup, he dried his hands with a kitchen towel and walked out, retrieving his trenchcoat from the hook in the living room. He had already sorted his bag, so he knew all he had to do was lock up his apartment and leave.

Yet as he stood in front of the mirror, fastening the buttons of his coat, he felt a strange tremor pass through him. Something was wrong; he could sense it, but he couldn't pinpoint what caused him to have that feeling.

Surely he wasn't forgetting anything, he tried to wrack his brain for an answer. But when a faded voice addressed him, he realized why he felt that way, and a chill ran down his spine.

The reflection in the mirror was starting to distort as he frantically searched for the pills he was supposed to take each morning. Uncapping the bottle, he found it empty, a revelation that further increased his discomfort.

He should have checked it earlier. He should have told Charlize or Isaac about it and refilled that bottle. It was dangerous for him to run out of medication, especially as it was imperative in his recovery.

"Don't shut me out, Jonathan," the rather familiar but distant voice addressed him, breaking through the fog in his head. "Just listen to me for a moment, will you? You owe me that much."

"I don't owe you anything," he said, avoiding looking in the mirror.

He was terrified that he would see a face he had long wanted to erase from his memory yet had constantly failed to do so.

"But you can't take that wretched medicine right now, and you will have to tolerate me for the whole day," the voice chided, reminding him of how nagging the whispers could get. "It's better to acknowledge that rather than keep running away from me."

He had gotten used to the silence, and hearing that voice stung like a headache. "I don't want to listen to you. Just let me be."

"You've forgotten everything," a resigned sigh escaped from that scratchy tone. A short clicking of the tongue in disappointment followed: "You are no longer the Jonathan I knew."

"Yes, because I am trying to be better! You screwed things up for me, but I won't let that happen again... I can't..." Jonathan was trying hard to stand his ground, but his hold on the tugging rope of his self-control was slackening.

"You are trying to get better?" A derisive laugh filled his conscience, making him want to slam his head into the wall before him and numb his senses. "And pray, do tell me what is better?"

"Anything that doesn't involve you," he snapped back, running his hands through his hair, trying to shut out that maddening sound but failing miserably as the voice grew louder and harsher.

"I made you better! I gave you the power to fight your fears. Don't you dare forget that!"

He was getting late for work, but he didn't trust himself enough to show up at the research center in that state. He feared that if he gave the voice more power over him, Scarecrow would eventually take over, and all those months of efforts would go in vain.

He felt afraid as all the barriers he had put up in his mind till then started to crumble one by one. "You ruined my life... You ruined me... I just want you to shut the hell up..."

"If it weren't for me, you would still be stuck in that rotten old farm in Kansas, toiling away for your wretched old grandmother! I took you out of there, I gave you the power to fight back, it was me who saved you and you who has ruined everything now! You need me, Jonathan, accept it!"

Taking out his phone, his fingers trembled as he searched for Isaac's contact, knowing that, at the moment, only his colleague could help him. He might be able to get him a new bottle of the drug their team had come up with to help Jonathan tone down the frequency of Scarecrow's malignant existence within him.

"You live in illusions, and it is not better for you in any way or form," Scarecrow's voice resumed its unbearable chagrin, knowing full well that without the medicine, Jonathan couldn't shut him out. "You think you can get rid of me through medication? Wrong. You could only put me to sleep for the time being. And you should know that I hate being dormant."

He dialed the number, sinking to his knees as he failed to eliminate the ruthless whispers in his head.

"You should know it will be all your fault if I finally break free and take control of you. You must be aware of the destruction I can cause... I will cause..."

The dial tone felt worse than the whispers at the moment, but at last, Isaac picked up. He could hear heavy breathing, and the concern in his tone was very evident as he asked, "Jonathan, is everything alright?"

He struggled to speak through the noise raging in his mind, "My medicines... I ran out of those pills... He's all I can hear now..."

His voice faded, and Isaac knew what he had to do. "Hey, hang on. I'm coming as soon as I can. Don't leave your house, okay?"

"I can't make it stop... Just make it stop."

"I'm on my way, just hold on," Isaac's voice faded and the call disconnected as the phone fell from his hands.

The voices had gotten louder in his head, and after so long of not hearing the separate entities raging within him, he felt all that noise would drive him mad.

"You're right. You can't stop me, and you can't erase me from yourself. I am a part of your mind and soul, and I will remain with you no matter how long you stay in therapy or how many pills you consume. The only way you can permanently get rid of me is if you cease to exist. Otherwise, I will haunt you forever. Don't you dare forget that!"

He didn't know how long had passed since he had failed to shut out that dreadful voice in his head. He also didn't see how Isaac entered his apartment and injected an emergency dose of his medicine straight into his veins. He was too caught up in his mental dilemma to notice that Isaac had not come there alone but alerted his psychiatrist as well.

He couldn't see Charlize, who looked equally as worried as Isaac, as she saw him struggling with himself. His blue eyes were frantic, and his hands clenched his temples, on which the veins stood out, indicating that he was going through something horrible.

She wanted to take that pain away, to console and comfort him, but he was unable to acknowledge her presence even.

"Jonathan, look at me," Charlize entreated, her hands reaching out to fasten on his wrists, "Look here."

Panicked blue met her concerned brown irises, and gradually, the whispers began to fade, the fog lifting from his vision. He could barely see her in front of him, her familiar features registering in his memory.

The medicine was taking effect, and slowly, the noise in his head quietened, a calm silence spreading over him. However, that intense fear and struggle against the Scarecrow fighting for control had drained him completely.

His head slumped forward, eyes falling shut as he passed out.

***