"Shadows of the Mind" (Dr. Crane backstory)

[§hannon]

azina said:

Don't say that Shannon! Gonna go and give it a read right now!

Well. It is rubbish... lol.

[azina]

Fourth installment up. Dr. Crane is a wonderful muse.

Jonathan delved into his books more and more as his isolation grew. Many of his friends abandoned him when they discovered he was being beaten every afternoon by Stan and his thugs and feared they may become the bullies’ next targets. Jonathan poured over his studies voraciously and almost managed to fill the empty void that seemed to grow despite how much he tried to ignore it.

He brushed away the bits of food and paper wads that every now and then would be tossed at him as he sat hunched over his book in the lunch room. A wide empty space on the bench remained between him and the many other students who were busy smiling and chatting, who either were oblivious of his presence or every now would point at him and snicker.

He wished he was a strong enough person to say it didn’t hurt – that the taunts and loneliness could hurt him no more than it would hurt a solitary stone. Sometimes he wished he had the heart of stone; he would suffer much less. The bell rang and startled Jonathan awake from his sad daydreaming. He was angry at himself for indulging in feeling sorry for himself – it would only make himself more miserable and he knew that was what Stan wanted – to humiliate him and ultimately make him feel as badly about himself as he physically felt. He couldn’t let happen or that moronic ape would win.

Jonathan snapped his book closed and shoved his scarcely touched lunch back into his bag. His next class would be chemistry – a class he became more fascinated in the more he learned of the intricate molecular structures of the compounds and how those compounds may be formed and combined into chemicals. As Jonathan cut across the lawn, he saw many of the teenagers still idling, even though the class bell had
rung. Many of them were dating couples, flirting with one another, but mostly kissing and holding each other close.

Stupid. All they can think with is their hormones, Jonathan thought.

As he swept past, he bumped into someone.

“Hey, watch it!”

Jonathan was not in a good mood and after being regularly beaten after school. He rarely apologized for anything, but he did pause and look at who he bumped into briefly. It was a girl with long, wavy brunette hair and chocolate brown eyes. She was wearing a fitted white blouse that showed a hint of her cleavage, which was tantalizing, but wasn’t too revealing, and a fitted blue skirt that hugged the soft swell of her hips. At that moment her full lips were pursed in anger. Jonathan suddenly felt very flustered.

“You bumped into me. Watch where you’re going you clutz!”

“I – I’m a sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

Much of her anger drained out of her as she saw Jonathan’s apology was sincere.

“I guess it’s alright. Accidents happen. Better get to your class, you’ll be late.”

Before Jonathan could stammer out anything more to say the girl had run at top speed to the other side of the campus. A few seconds later the late bell rang.

damn it!

This would be the first time he’d been late since grammar school.

Jonathan found his mind wandering every now and then back to that girl during class and throughout the day. At first he enjoyed the thought, because she was beautiful, but the more he thought about it, the more aggravated he became. It distracted him from more important matters like his studies. He also kept telling himself, deep down, a girl that beautiful must already have a boyfriend and certainly would not be interested in anyone like him. Best to forget about her and the sooner the better.

Jonathan figured that wouldn’t be too difficult a task, given the mid-term exams and the mounting pile of homework that was coming due in his advanced classes. Now more than ever he needed to concentrate and focus on the task at hand. He had no room for idle daydreaming about girls, his future rested solely on his mind and what possible scholarship he might gain to afford college.

He packed up his books later than usual from the library and headed home about an hour later than he usually would. He worried, for the first time in a long time, that Stan and his thugs already would be waiting for him. And today he was strangely feeling too good to have his day ruined by what that bully had planned. Let that ape and his goons wait and he’d never show up – that would teach him and his dim-witted toadies. A dark delight filled Jonathan as he shouldered his backpack and walked an extra three miles that was he normally didn’t have to when he took the shortcut through Shackborough Street. It was near dusk when he arrived home, but his mother still wasn’t home yet.

He still had plenty of time to get much of his homework done before dinner and might may be an opportune time to do some research on history project on military strategists. But as he opened his textbooks and notebook, his pen and paper ready, the same idle thoughts returned and it was maddening how he was having so much difficulty concentrating.

Jonathan Crane, if you can do your homework after a solid beating, you can certainly push all thoughts of a silly girl out of your head and do your work!

He squinted and bent closer to his books, as though the closer proximity would help his concentration.

Those dark brown eyes, those full lips . . . that blouse.

Jonathan grasped his hair. He felt like he was ready to scream. He didn’t understand how he could feel so wonderful and so miserable all at once. He yanked out the packet of ice from the freezer and crushed it hard on his forehead. The cold felt good and helped him try to forget about her.

Love your studies. A girl like that won’t love you. Girls like that never do.

Droplets dripped upon the sheet of paper he had begun writing his homework on and the ink began to run. Jonathan didn’t care.

[jill]

aww that's so good!!! jonathan has a crush, haha that's sooo cute...I hope you write more!

[azina]

I've already written more. I love Jonathan.

[§hannon]

That's adorable. Nice writing.

[azina]

Thanks!

[§ilvercell]

*showers you with compliments*

[seonedevinian]

oh, a pretty brunette with dark eyes. what a lovely choice for our Jonathan! when can we see what else you've written?

[azina]

got a bit more ... I keep thinking I should be working on additions to my capstone paper due this Sunday. I hate homework. Aargh!

[§ilvercell]

so do i!

[azina]

Fifth installment up. I'm going to be posting this soon on fanfiction.net so it'll be easier to read. Is putting the story in quotes making the text too tiny?

Genevieve Chesterton awoke dazed and confused. She was lying comfortably on her plush red velvet sofa, not sprawled awkwardly on it as she had been when she had lapsed into unconsciousness, but with her limbs perfectly arranged and her arms resting on her stomach. Every pill that had spilled onto the carpet had been picked up and placed back into the bottle. The bottle was next to her on the polished mahogany table with note in perfect penmanship:

I would discard this medication. It is of no use to your condition.
~ Dr. Jonathan Crane

She frowned at the cryptic note and found it very bizarre that was the only written note he had left. She turned it over and found that on the back was his business card. Now instead of being confused she was angry. She was running his visit back through her mind and didn’t like the fact he drugged her without first asking permission, and didn’t he promise he would be there when she awoke? Not only did Mrs. Chesterton now think he was a quack, but he also was a liar too. She would call him up and give him her two cents, which was something she had grown quite accustomed to.

Quickly she picked up her antique gold-leafed phone with the mother-of-pearl handle and dialed his number. His phone ran once, twice, three times . . . then was picked up. Mrs. Chesterton opened her mouth, about ready to spew a litany of complaints and insults.

“This is Dr. Jonathan Crane. I’m not in right now, but if you would like to make an appointment –”

Mrs. Chesterton was tempted to slam down the phone, but opted to wait out the recording and leave one of the most scathing messages the young doctor had ever heard, but when the recording finally beeped and was recording, she said:

“This is Mrs. Genevieve Chesterston. You visited earlier. You promised you would talk with me, but when I awoke you were gone. I’d like to make an appointment. Call me at your convenience.”

She hung up the phone, wondering what suddenly came over her. Why was she suddenly so cordial toward a doctor whom she was paying? After all, she was the customer; he should be pleasing her, shouldn’t he? But of course he should! And he should have stayed until she awoke. Irresponsible boy!

Out of habit she grabbed the bottle of pills off the table and was prepared to pop one pill into her mouth. Dr. Crane’s note fluttered to her foot.

I would discard this medication. It is of no use to your condition.

“Hmph, what does he know?”

She was about to take one of the small white pills when the phone rang so loudly she nearly dropped the bottle to the floor again.

Get a handle on yourself, Genevieve Chesterton! You’re acting like a jittery schoolgirl.

She grabbed the phone.

“Hello, who is this?”

“Mrs. Chesterton. This is Dr. Jonathan Crane. I trust you are feeling better?”

“Why yes, a little better. Why didn’t you stay until I was awake? You promised!”

Even to Mrs. Chesterton that last statement sounded very petulant as soon as she had said it.

“Please accept my apologies. I was needed at the Gotham Court House shortly after I visited you. My testimony was needed for Victor Shikenz.”

“The Five-alley Slasher,” Mrs. Chesterton gasped. “He’s murdered how many? Ten, twenty people?”

“I’m not at liberty to say, Mrs. Chesterton. As I said, I delivered key testimony.”

“Certainly what you told them will have him locked up behind bars for a very long time, I do hope?”

She could hear him sigh and there was a long pause.

“All I can say is the man is criminally insane and will be given the care to treat someone suffering from such acute homicidal tendencies – but this not about Mr. Shikenz. You want to make an appointment, is that correct? Will tomorrow at 3 o’ clock be convenient for you?”

“Uh, yes, that should be all right.”

“Good, I shall look forward to our meeting until then Mrs. Chesterton.”

[§ilvercell]

yeah!wooooooooo!!!!!!!!!EXALT!

[seonedevinian]

good stuff. are you going to write more from Jonathan's perspective, as a grown man? and as a boy - i like those parts.

[azina]

I should ... kinda scared to go there. I always get a bit bizarre when I hang out in his head for awhile. LOL

[§hannon]

The story's amazing. I don't want it to end... hahah.