Scarecrow licked his lips slowly. "We hit her over the head with a pan," he said, ignoring the comic value of that mental image. "Before dragging her out to the aviary. For years, she had locked us in there, preaching to us as she released her crows on us, leaving us there for hours as they pecked and tore at us."
Scarecrows eyes were distant, memories, faded and warped with time flooding over his mind. It had taken forever to get enough strength to pull Jonathan away from the pain, to hide away his most precious person and take on the pain himself. Too long.
"So we locked her in there with her precious birds, dousing her with the same concoction she laced our suit with, watching as the crows tore her apart." He had only told the story in it's whole to one person, though several knew bits and pieces.
Scarecrow went silent again, thinking, turning the events over in his mind, the terror, the pain...his revenge...
"Got a last laugh though, the old bitch died with the deed to the house, ruined Jonathan one more time over, couldn't sell the place and start over." But even as he spoke, Scarecrow's mind was on something else, a tiny little blond girl who had slept so peacefully before him.
The other that Jonathan wouldn't allow Scarecrow to harm.
He turned, looking at Edward, hugging his long legs, peeking at the man through his bangs, almost hiding. "So yes, crows can hurt very much," he whispered.