I've been waiting for you forever

That night Arthur dreamed. They weren't pleasant dreams, far from it.

His mother Penny's face and that of her boyfriend had forcefully intruded into the recesses of his mind, bringing back old memories like living flames that still burned his skin.

No matter how much time had passed since it had happened, it hurt as much as it did then; not even the knowledge that neither she nor her horrible man could hurt him anymore was enough to make Arthur feel safe. He still felt it, the pain. He still felt it, the fear, the shame, the disgust, the desire to die.

Those emotions had accompanied him throughout his life, they had never gone away, not even now that Penny was dead and buried several meters underground.

No matter how much Arthur had tried, he had never been able to let go of what had been, not truly.

Deep inside him, those memories were still there, and they had conditioned his entire existence.

The violence of Jackie and the other Arkham guards had brought back wounds that had never healed, nightmares that had never died.

Come here, Penny would say to him in a mellifluous tone, with that smile of hers that was the least similar to a smile he had ever seen, come to your mother, Happy. Let's play a nice game, and meanwhile she caressed the empty place in the bed, between her and her boyfriend. Come here, darling. Let's play a nice game all together, you'll see that you'll like it. No, I don't like it, stop it... enough... it's weird... it hurts, please stop. But neither she nor he had ever stopped. They both laughed, the false and cruel smiles painted their faces like grotesque carnival masks, while they did those horrible, perverse and painful things that no one should ever do to a child.

Arthur woke up the next morning in a sweat, his mind and heart broken, his body that wouldn't stop shaking. The cold was inside him, it had penetrated his bones and soul. A little warmth revived him a few minutes later, when he saw Eliza cross the threshold of his room.

"Good morning, sleepyhead. Are you awake now? Haven't you eaten yet?" Eliza's tone was cheerful and lively as she opened the curtains of the room with decisive gestures. The sun invaded the room and suddenly Eliza's smile left her lips.

"My God, Arthur, what happened?"

Arthur only then realized that he was completely naked between the crumpled and turned sheets soaked in his sweat.

A growing sense of horror came over him when he realized that there was not only sweat on the sheets, but also a stream of still fresh and wet urine stuck to his legs. He had pissed himself like a fucking child.

"Don't look at me!" Arthur shouted, his cheeks purple with embarrassment and humiliation. "Don't look, please. I… I don't think I could stand it if you looked at me with disgust." Tears began to fall from his eyes without him being able to stop them. Arthur curled up in the dirty sheets trying to cover his body as much as possible, sobbing softly into the pillow, trying to stifle the laughter that was bubbling in his chest and struggling to escape.

"Arthur…"

"I know, now you're disgusted…" He whimpered, laughing and crying at the same time. The snot was dripping onto the pillowcase; he must have looked pathetic and disgusting at that moment.

Yet Eliza still approached his bed and, even in his state, spoke to him in a soft but unyielding tone. "Arthur, calm down. Listen to me carefully, I could never think such a thing. Believe me, disgust is the last thing I would feel towards you."

"Are you serious?"

"You know, when I was younger I often slept at my grandmother's house. My parents went out to dinner, to concerts, to the movies, and I was too young to be alone, so I would sleep over at her house on weekends. There was only one double bed, so we slept together. She was incontinent and always wet the bed. Believe me, it was terrible for a hygiene freak like me to wake up and find the sheets soaking wet and smelling, but I got used to it. I even had to help her get in the tub and wash her. As I did it, although it was unpleasant, I realized that it was a good thing. Taking care of someone, I mean. Helping someone you love when they're in trouble, taking care of them, making them feel like they're not alone." Eliza gently pulled back the sheet from Arthur's face to look him in the eye and smiled. "That's what I plan to do with you, Arthur. I want to take care of you. I want to help you. If you don't want my help, that's okay, you don't have to." She clarified quickly, but Arthur shook his head.

"I would love to. No one has ever taken care of me; I was always the one taking care of my mother, never the other way around. I just don't feel comfortable…" He looked down shyly, chewing on his lower lip. "No one's ever seen me naked. Except my mother and the doctors." There had been that furtive meeting with Lee in his cell, but it was very dark, so maybe that didn't count.

And then there had been the episode in the bathroom with Jackie and her henchmen, but that wasn't a story Arthur was eager to share with Eliza. He still had trouble admitting to himself what had really happened that night, talking about it with anyone else was out of the question.

"It's the same to me. I'm twenty and I've never had sex with anyone." Eliza's cheeks quickly flushed with color. "Sorry, I don't know why that came out like that. Forget what I said. Let's go to the bathroom now, okay? Wait, I'll get you a towel, if you want to cover yourself with it." Eliza handed him a fluffy white towel, which Arthur tied around his hips. When he tried to get out of bed, his legs were unsteady, weak and shaking from hunger, and he ended up stumbling, but Eliza caught him firmly, putting her arm around his shoulders and keeping him from falling to the floor.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" Arthur started to walk away, but Eliza pulled him close again, holding him gently but firmly. "It's okay. I don't mind touching you. It's new to me."

"I don't mind you touching me either," Arthur said sincerely. Eliza's touch was a little awkward and hesitant, but it was light and gentle like a feather. It wasn't the clinical, impersonal touch of a doctor, nor the invasive, painful touch of the attackers and predators he was used to. It was something entirely new: a hand that promised warmth, security, kindness.

It was a way Arthur had never been touched before, a sensation he was unfamiliar with but not unwelcome.

On the contrary, it was so good that Arthur leaned into her tender touch and let her lead him to the bathroom.

He sat on the closed toilet seat while Eliza checked the temperature of the water and filled the tub with bubble bath, then she turned to give him some privacy and he dropped the towel and climbed into the tub.

The jets of the jacuzzi were activated by Eliza, creating a foam that covered almost all of Arthur's body. He rested his head against the edge of the tub, letting himself be intoxicated by the warmth of the bath, the scent of the soap and the water that seemed to massage every sore spot on his body, melting away the knots of tension.

Eliza massaged his scalp with shampoo, rinsed it out and then moved on to wash his back.

She gasped at the sight of Arthur's back, so thin that the bones of his spine seemed to want to come out of the skin, covered entirely in bruises, cuts and scars of various lengths and thicknesses.

What could have happened to him? Had he been beaten with a crowbar, a truncheon? Who could have hurt him so cruelly and barbarously? Some of the scars looked very old, perhaps even many years old; the bruises, however, were starting to yellow, so they must have been quite recent.

Eliza fought back tears and began to sponge Arthur's back as gently as she could. She didn't ask him how he had gotten all those injuries, even though she wanted to know.

Arthur had to decide to tell her about it, when and if he was ready.

For now, all Eliza could do was tend to his wounds and try to ease his pain.

Under that broken smile, Arthur hid a great deal of pain, Eliza had understood it immediately, from the first time she had seen him. A past made up of poverty, hunger, and, it seemed, also violence. An illness that had isolated him from the world.

Eliza was also sick and alienated from society, but in that moment, for the first time in her life, she was glad of it, of not being normal.

She and Arthur were the outcasts of society, the ones considered abnormal, wrong. They were both sick, but at least they could say they were sick together.