Chapter 1:
She was happy to finally be coming home. She was so tired; sometimes her work was so exhausting. Right then, all she really wanted was to be in bed. She fumbled for her keys in her purse as the elevator dinged to announce that she had reached the second floor. She was so ready to just relax. She stepped out and walked over to her door. She was so close now, she couldn't wait to feel the comfort of her bed. She found her keys and was about to put them in the lock when the door flew open.
"Honey, I'm home!" the man announced as another man rushed out the door to grab her.
She barely had time to process what was going on. The man who greeted her was now laughing like a mad man. His high pitched laughter was unnerving. His laughter had a quality that was hard to put a name too. She was now held tightly by the man who had grabbed her. Her arms were pinned to her side by the arms her captor had wrapped around her. She struggled against the man who held her tight, he had dragged her over into the dining area of her apartment. She had loved having a whole floor to herself, but now she was regretting it. Then again she never really anticipated that she would be kidnapped in her own home.
"So nice of you to join our, uh, little party, Mag pie!" He cackled running the back of his hand against her cheek.
She looked at him; she was too afraid to speak at the moment. Their last meeting came to the front of her mind. She looked at him now. He stood in front of her, that same devious smile plastered on his face. His blonde hair, just the way she remembered: greasy and tinged green. His face was the same too: painted white with black circles around the eyes. His lips were painted red, and extending from the corners of his mouth, also painted red, were his bubbled, ragged scars.
She couldn't believe she was actually in this situation. She knew that she had caught his interest, but she never guessed it would've stuck. What a mess, she thought, How'd I get stuck in this situation? She remembered that it all began with him. Her mind began to wander back to what had got her into this situation in the first place.
She was so nervous. This could be the show that got her somewhere. The show that could get her photos in magazines and out of the business of doing small time commission jobs. The reality of it was really starting to hit now that she was in the cab and on her way. This exhibit was for Gotham's most promising new artists. Gotham's most promising artists isn't that a loaded statement, she thought, but that's how it was advertised and promised for all who came to see. It was hosted by a prestigious art magazine in Gotham, and that meant other editors from fashion and art magazines were all going to be there along with all of Gotham's elite. The cab stopped just outside the tall skyscraper. The exhibit was being held at the magazine's head quarters on the top floor where they often showed art or had parties. She paid the cabby and got out. Before even entering the building, she took a deep breath to center herself.
She was there an hour before the show; the curator had asked all the artists to be there an hour early. It was an important event that was held annually, a big deal. She worked up the courage and walked in. She made her way to the elevator and got in. The elevator ride felt like forever. She took another breath as her floor came up.
The curator rushed up to her before the elevator door even had time to shut .
"That makes ten! Good! Everyone's here. Take this, wear it; it's so that everyone knows who you are." The curator handed the name tag attached to the lanyard before he started to speak again: "Now go find your exhibit and make sure everything is in order."
The gravity of the situation was really hitting her as she noticed how tense the curator was. She did as he told her and went to where her exhibit was located.
"Wow" she said quietly to herself walking through the space. It all looked so put together. She remembered how it looked a week ago when she came by, it was a mess then. Then she was there. She drank in the sight of her work against the wall. She couldn't believe it, it looked better than she had imagined. In the middle of the wall above her largest print, the title of her work was displayed: "The Destitute". It was a series of black and white photographs of homeless people and the places they frequented. All the pictures were different sizes and framed in gold, antiqued frames.
The time between then and the when the exhibition opened flew by. It felt like seconds to her. As the space began to fill with people she noticed that many people were stopping to look at her work in particular. It filled with such joy and pride. Some even stopped to talk to her about her work and how much they liked it. The time was passing so fast.
The night was half over when she was talking to the editor of a highly acclaimed art magazine that she noticed him staring at her.