Jonathan looked in the direction of Jerome but he mostly just stared, his movements sluggish and slow. He had been drugged heavily for the past two weeks after his outburst during shock therapy. It was difficult to keep himself under control, not with the Scarecrow looming. It was always watching, always following, always after him.

Even now, he felt it in the room, all of his hairs were on end and his pulse was racing.

Jonathan shoved himself back against the wall and covered his head with his hands, not in the mood to talk to anyone. His brain was full of fear and cotton. He hated the sedatives - they didn't help the fear, they just ensured he couldn't fight the Scarecrow.

No message, no talking, no one else was worth it right now. He just had to keep himself still and safe from the bad things.