Jeremiah flinched when he came too. A sharp pain jolted from the left side of his head, the pressure made it difficult for him to open his eyes. He tilted his head back slowly, resting it gently against the hard edge of the back of the chair.

He was cold. His skin stinging with goosebumps. His chest, buzzing.

A sharp chill sped through him, causing him to seize. Jeremiah clenched his jaw as he tried to open his eyes, softly moving his head to face forward. Another shiver coursed through him, the prickling of the cold causing him to squirm in his place.

His eyes flickered open, squinting against the throbbing pain that was covering his head. His arms were barely lit, tied to a metal chair with wire. His trousers were ripped, and he could see several minor cuts on his knees. He was barefooted on cold concrete floors, grit and dust clung to the soles of his feet.

He took a sharp breath in as he awoke. He carefully lifted his gaze to whatever was in front of him, expecting the harsh and brutal face of his twin brother. Jeremiah was instead greeted with dark and rusted metal walls. A naked light bulb hung to the right of where he was sat, it was attached to a thin cord that swung slightly. The dim yellow light barely illuminated the room.

Jeremiah's breath quickened when he realized that he was alone. He gave a pathetic attempt to loosen the wire ties which had him bound by his wrists and ankles to the chair but gave up quickly. It only caused the harsh restraints to dig deeper into him. He stilled and looked back at his feet. His head was pounding in time with his heartbeat. His breaths were shaky and rapid. What did his brother want with him? Was this how he was going to die, bound and terrified?

The loud clang of a door being swung open caused Jeremiah's panic to completely seize him. Whoever had just entered let the harsh sound of their entrance ring around Jeramiah before approaching him. The anticipation of violence brought the hair on the back of the architect's neck to burn as he waited for his visitor. After the echo of the door had faded into silence, the slow clicks of footsteps shot through Jeremiah. His entire body tensed in apprehension.

Hands seized his shoulders. They seemed to steal Jeremiah's breath. His eyes were wide with fear. His hands tightly balled into fists. A low hum cut through the tense air. Dread twisted in Jeremiah's chest.

"You're awake!" Jerome whispered; his words rang unnervingly around his brother.

Jeremiah sucked in a sharp breath, wincing as he braced himself.

Jerome squeezed his brother's shoulders before releasing him. He remained behind Jeremiah for a moment. It seemed that he enjoyed watching his brother squirm. A sudden rush of embarrassment burned through Jeremiah as he waited for his brother to show his face. He could feel Jerome taunting him with his eyes. He couldn't help but feel pathetic as he fidgeted under the unnerving gaze of his twin.

"It's just like old times, hey brother!" Jerome sneered as he circled around his brother. He seemed to spit out the word 'brother.'

He was now standing in front of Jeremiah. His shiny dress shoes face Jeremiah. The toes were steel pointed, they reminded the architect of cowboy boots.

Dispute his panicked judgment, Jeremiah managed to spit out a question.

"Why are you doing this?" he spluttered. His throat was dry and brittle, the word seemed to scrape through him.

Jerome's response to his brother was a sigh. Jeremiah dared to meet his brother's eye, the discomfort of his brother's silence keeping his nerves thin. They no longer looked like twins; Jeramiah could barely even see a familial resemblance in the scarred face of his captor. The man standing in front of him was dressed in a deep red suit, black waistcoat tied smartly over his chest, a crisp white shirt underneath, with the sleeves folded to sit on Jerome's elbow. He looked clean and untouched by the grim room he was standing in. His cleanliness made him look displaced.

Someone else entered the room when Jeremiah looked at his brother. He watched as Jerome's scared face slowly curl into a grin. Jerome didn't say anything to the visitor and looked back down at his brother. He let out a deep sigh and gently touched his brother's face.

"You already know the answer!" Jerome taunted, then tapped his brother's cheek. By now the second visitor had come into view. A tall broad silhouette loomed behind Jerome. Jeremiah couldn't really work out who Jerome's accomplish was. He could see that his face was covered by a straw mask, rigid holes were cut to show the dark and sly eyes of the shadow. This masked man was equally as unnerving as the scarred face of Jerome.

Jeremiah started to pull against his restraints, the pressing concern of what was to come.

"What are you going to do to me?" He begged.

Jerome bent down, grabbing Jeremiah's forearms and placing his weight on his brother, causing the architect to wince from discomfort.

"I'm going to give you a little perspective," Jerome snarled, digging his fingers into his brother's arms as he gripped onto the chair.

"Scarecrow here is going to take you on a trip down memory lane. 'Relive the glory days if you will. You, dear brother, are going to understand the pain that you put me through." Jerome said

"You can't blame me for your madness, Jerome," Jeremiah spat as he squirmed under Jerome's grip.

This made Jerome laugh, his grim grin wide and toothy. He pushed off his brother, sending a sharp jolt of pain through Jeremiah.

"Why on earth would you think I'm mad?" he taunted as he turned to Scarecrow.

"No, please. Jerome!" Jeremiah panicked.

Scarecrow approached him, pulling something small and silver out of his pockets. Jeremiah tried to break his restraints, violently squirming against the cold metal chairs and hard wire ties. Dread seemed to suffocate him as he tried to get away from his captures. Scarecrow grabbed Jeremiah by the back of the neck. A short pinching sensation followed and Jeremiah felt his hands and feet start to burn.

"The only mad one here is you."