A/N - I decided to take a brief break from "Jack's Descent", because even though I'm so close to finishing it, I'm getting frustrated with finding the proper wording for what I'm trying to say. So yeah, this idea came to me a couple days ago after watching "Secretary" for the umpteenth time, so I hope you like it. I don't own The Dark Knight or Secretary, and I most certainly don't make any profit from writing this, so with that said, enjoy! :)

CH 1: A Change of Scenery

My family thought Edward and I would be together forever, and considering how we were the only sado-masochistic couple in the neighborhood, I genuinely thought so, too. Or rather, I thought so until Bethany Myers came to town. According to Edward, she was even more of a doormat than I was, and, unable to resist his urges to be in complete and full control, they'd secretly developed a dominate-submissive relationship five months before even bothering to tell me. They're now happily married on the outskirts of LA, while I'm here sitting here on this stupid train going to live with my stupid, cat-crazy aunt in Gotham City, NY.

I was too embarrassed to admit to my family that I'd filed for a divorce, so as far as they know, Edward and I are still partaking in quirkily erotic rituals. I wish to God that Edward and I were still doing those things together, because in spite of the recent bitterness between us, I still happen to love him very much. He was the reason behind my attempts to stop cutting myself, but now that he was completely out of my life, I gradually found myself more and more drawn to the idea of buying knives, scissors, iodine, and other little trinkets and putting them into a sewing kit like I used to.

Poking my tongue out of the corner of my mouth, I checked my wristwatch as the train finally pulled into the station. 9:45...perfect timing, considering how I could just opt for bed instead of conversation. It wasn't that I didn't love my aunt, but all that was truly on my mind was the fact that I needed to be cut, and fast.

Filing off the train like all the other passengers, I felt like a sore thumb as I stood there searching for my ride. Everyone else was dressed in professional pantsuits, skirts and ties, while I stood there looking doddy, unkempt, and completely unfashionable. I'd opted for my favorite polka dot jumper that day, but now as I felt people examining me like a bug under a microscope, I immediately regretted my decision. Maybe I should've gone with the leopard print pantsuit, instead?

Before I could berate myself a moment longer, I heard a shrill squeal that caused the surrounding people to part like the Red Sea, my Aunt Martha now waving emphatically as she crowed, "Lee! Lee! Oh, my little darling, let me look at you!"

Wincing when she eagerly pulled me into her arms, I mumbled simply against her shoulder, "Hi, Aunt Martha."

Not seeming to notice my shyness, she framed my face with her hands while praising, "My, look how pretty you've grown! Such lovely blue eyes!"

"Aunt Martha" I warned, feeling the heat rush to my cheeks. It wasn't that I didn't like compliments, but I knew I wasn't pretty (from a conventional standpoint, anyway), and I was thin, awkward, and as nerdy as they come. Edward said I dressed like a slob, and I had a weird quirk where I stuck my tongue out when I typed. I knew these things were true, but somehow I prided in them since they'd always gotten Edward's attention. Now, however, they seemed like a nuisance since I wanted to prove that I could get over him...that I could survive without the one man who'd cured my pain.

Completely unaware of my inner turmoil, Aunt Martha took me by the arm and began leading me toward the parking lot. As I tried to avoid tripping over my own two feet, she blithely announced, "Now I know you've been out of a job ever since you married that awful Mr. Grey, so I took it upon myself to get you a job interview!" She paused for dramatic effect, her big blue eyes shining as if she was somehow expecting me to shower her with praise.

Gazing back at her in open-mouthed surprise, I finally managed to choke out, "Oh..."

"Oh?" Aunt Martha repeated, appearing considerably disappointed. "Is that really all you have to say? I got you an interview with a group who needs a secretary, Lee, so I would've thought that you'd be more excited!"

I winced. "A-a secretary? Aunt Martha, I don't really think that's such a good idea..." I'd started my short-lived career as Edward's secretary, so what made her think I wanted to re-live those painful memories? If I took on another secretarial position, I'd undoubtedly be comparing and contrasting both of my experiences, and that was something that I most certainly was not willing to do.

Suddenly cold in her mannerisms, Aunt Martha snapped, "I want you up bright and early tomorrow morning to meet these nice people. They're apparently an exclusive group, so you're very priviledged that I found out from that nice young cop down the hall."

"Cop?" I asked, suddenly confused.

"Yes, I think her name's Anna-something-or-another, but that doesn't matter. What does matter is that you'll be employed again!" she chirped, her bleached curls bouncing as she clapped her hands. When she behaved in this manner, she reminded me of my mother (who was coincidentally also her sister), and I couldn't help but feel slightly homesick. Not for home itself, but for the sense of normalcy I got from the established routine: breakfast at eight, driving father to work by nine, TV until eleven, lunch around twelve, and anything I wanted to do until bed at ten. I've always been comforted by the idea of having a structured, orderly life, but only if I'm constantly being told what to do. There's something very arousing about being ordered around, so I guess that's why Edward and I got along so well.

Finally deciding to humor my aunt, I disinterestedly asked, "So what time do they want me there?"

"Five, but I figured you should make an impression and come in at 4:30" Aunt Martha explained, giggling at the look of horror on my face. "Oh, don't be such a pessimist, my little darling! This is what it's like out in the working world, so I'm afraid you're just going to have to get used to it."

"Yeah, but 4:30? That's when some people actually turn in for the night" I complained, primarily only to be argumentative. It wasn't that I wasn't grateful for my aunt's help, but I really would've just preferred spending my time moping over my old wedding album. It was only three years old, but it somehow seemed ancient to me every time I looked at the cover. The romance inside that had once existed was now dead, so I guess that in some strange, morbid sort of way, it really was old.

By the time Aunt Martha and I made it home, it was close to eleven o'clock, and even though my aunt seemed insistent upon talking, I just wanted to get to my bedroom and unpack....and along the way, maybe look for some 'things'. By this point in my journey I was tired, irritable, and felt a strong desire to inflict pain upon my weary body. I was so numb that I needed to know I was still alive, so after kissing my aunt goodnight, I set off in search of some good 'utensils'. I hadn't brought any knives or scissors, but to my delight, I did find a pair of petite fingernail clippers in my overnight bag.

Eagerly sitting down on my bed, I hitched up my skirt and rolled down my pantyhose, my tongue peeking out in concentration as I bared my left thigh. Pinching my flesh so I'd have a raised area to work with, I brought the fingernail clippers forward and snipped at my pliant skin. My eyes watering, I took a small inhalation and did it yet again, reveling in the small, bleeding red welts that began forming across my flesh.

Even though the tiny, stinging pricks of pain flowed exhilaratingly through my body, I somehow felt a sense of defeat since I knew I was back on the path to destruction. I never inflicted pain on myself to be fatal, but ever since my accident six years ago, I've been very wary about cutting too deeply. It's funny how one false move can end it all, but I suppose my need for normalcy overrides my fear of death, and believe it or not, cutting myself is extremely normal to me. I've been doing it since the seventh grade (I stopped after meeting Edward), and I consider ten years to be a very substantial length of time for committing self-harm.

Padding into the bathroom, I began riffling through the medicine cabinet in search of something -- anything -- that could top off the pain. I always called this special something my 'chaser', because after I'd use it, I always felt light and blissfully disconnected from my body. Pushing some bottles to the side, I grinned when I found some iodine and greedily pulled it toward me. Hastily uncapping the bottle, I dabbed some of the liquid onto a cotton ball, then diligently rubbed it against my sore wounds. Almost instantly a sharp, delicious burning sensation flared across my cuts, my eyes closing in rapture as I felt an emotion similar to serenity flooding through my veins. Somehow I always felt at peace after this little ritual, but I knew that by the time I woke up I would still feel as empty as before.

Now turning to regard my reflection, I stood up straight and arched my back so my breasts were more pronounced. There were bags under my eyes due to lack of sleep, and my lips seemed pale and drawn as I observed my gaunt features. As I said before, I've never been exceedingly gorgeous or anything, but I most certainly wasn't accustomed to looking so tired and droopy. Running my fingers across the dark circles under my eyes, I twisted my lips in disapproval and pushed back my long, wavy chestnut hair. So much for 'wowing' the people at my interview tomorrow. If I wanted to look professional and alert, I knew I needed nothing short of a miracle to look even remotely presentable. There wasn't a concealer stick in the world big enough to cover my current blemishes, but I nonetheless squared my shoulders and said (loudly, just like my psychologist had taught me) "I am a beautiful, successful young woman, and I will get that job tomorrow.....with Revlon's help."

With a half-hearted smile on my face, I gave a confident nod (which was definitely more confident than I actually felt), and plodded out of the bathroom to get some sleep.

--

My irritating alarm went off at 4AM (and by that I mean my Aunt Martha), her smile far too sunny for my bloodshot eyes as I groaned and rolled back over in bed.

"Ah, ah, aaaah, you wake up now, you little sleepyhead! You don't want to miss breakfast!" she gaily chirped. Now taking the two bottom corners of my bedsheets, she whipped them off my body like a magician removing a table cloth, my legs curling up toward my chest as I shrieked from the sudden (not to mention unwelcome) cold.

"Come on, Lee, you don't want to be late for your interview!" Aunt Martha snapped, finally appearing as if she meant business.

Groggily rolling back over to face her, I rubbed at my eyes while sitting up in a half-comatose state. Although I knew I should be excited, all I could think about was spending some more 'quality time' with my new bed. We'd just met last night, after all.

After dressing in a drab top and skirt, eating a breakfast of cardboard-like toast, and going through the painstaking effort of masking the dark circles under my eyes, I begrudgingly got into the backseat of Aunt Martha's Sedan and promptly spread out. The position I was in (not to mention the entire situation, in itself) reminded me of my interview with Edward, and I couldn't help but sour as I succumbed to the unwanted memories.

The streets had a lot more life at this hour than I'd expected, but that still didn't prevent me from missing my bed with the warm, paisley sheets. The thought was enough to make my eyes droop, but Aunt Martha's chipper voice gaily cut in, "Sooo, what do you plan on saying to these nice men today? Anything in particular?"

I shrugged, irritable since she'd interrupted my attempts at sleep. "I dunno, whatever they ask me, I guess."

"That's it?" Aunt Martha asked, clearly unsatisfied with my response. "You need to be assertive, Lee, so I expect you to introduce yourself as the former secretary of Mr. E. Edward Grey."

I winced. "But what if they were recipients of some of my typos? I don't think it's a very good idea to link myself to Edwar...to Mr. Grey."

Aunt Martha sighed, but it was hardly enough to tarnish her sunny disposition. She was silent for several minutes afterward (which I was thankful for), but when she slammed down on the brakes and gave a squeal, I couldn't help but shriek in surprise.

"What? What? What is it!?"

Turning to give me a dream-like, exaggerated smile, she sweetly patted my knee and cooed, "We're heeere."

Dumbly staring back at her for several moments, I finally recovered and reached to unfasten my seatbelt. I knew that I had some serious issues and all, but Aunt Martha was beyond ridiculous.

Ignoring her exuberant wave, I took in a stiff breath and squared my shoulders as I tromped up the steps. This was a rather seedy area of town, and the building didn't exactly look well-cared for, so my opinion of these so-called "men" immediately went downhill. Not that I'd regarded them highly before or anything, but now I had a weird feeling about them since it almost seemed as if they were in hiding. Who worked in a crappy place like this, anyway?

Hesitantly placing my palm against the flat, rusted door, I furrowed my brows as I struggled to push it open. Just when I was about to give up and go back to the car, I realized that I had to pull the door in order to open it, a sheepish smile crossing my lips as I gave a giggle-filled "Oh" and did what I was supposed to. As soon as I entered the building, I was surprised to find myself surrounded by complete darkness.

"Um...hello?" I called, clearing my throat after discovering how dry it was. When nobody answered, I frowned and tried yet again, "Hellooo? Is anybody here?"

Blindly groping my way through the room, I finally bumped into what felt like a medium-sized card table, my eyes gradually adjusting to the dark as I realized that there was a figure behind the table. Why hadn't he said anything?

"Hello?" I called again, by now growing a tad agitated.

A sudden 'click' sounded, and a small lamp on the table became illuminated in order to reveal a thin, trembling man with wide, doe-like eyes. His attention briefly left my face and focused on something behind me, and before I could even react, I felt a strong arm curve around my neck and flick a knife against my throat.

There came a soft giggle, then a dark voice (similar to that of crushed velvet) purred intrusively in my ear, "Hello, there."

A/N - I initially planned to make this only two chapters long, but if you're interested, I'll be more than happy to try and extend this to a multi-chaptered story. Please let me know, because if it doesn't get a big enough response, I'll just go ahead and end it in two. Thanks so much!