Enjoy my fellow mutants (I know that was such a marvel thing to say and we're here in rainy DC Gotham), i'll try and update my other fans pics ASAP...:D Now lets put a smile on that face!
Chapter 1.
The snow felt heavier than all the months of Winter in Gotham, the temperature clawed beneath 30 degrees Fahrenheit, or that's what the weather reporter said. But for most of the tenants who refused to leave their low heated flats of the apartment complex I live in, it was probably one of the worst Winters they had experienced from at least the past decade. Walking back from Gotham County High had always daunted me as long as I could remember. Most kids hated school, but unfortunately for myself it was probably the only thing I could call escape. I'm seventeen now and i'm hoping to leave school and my 'home' when I go to college, that's my plan. To be honest, Gotham County is the most dead-beat educational facility in this town, so the hopes of many succeeding to go to Gotham State University was small. Of course that wasn't the only university out here in the land of hopes and dreams, but Gotham's black listed; so most uni's outside of our great City hastily take in some students, only the best of the best.
Having an IQ of 148, I guess I could say i'm probably one of the best, and believe you me I am not one to boast about grades. Good enough in comparison to my peers, I have never taken drugs (apart from the occasional ibuprofen.. not just for the headaches….) and I steer clear from alcohol. The assignments I do are about are graded B's and A's, so I guess I'm not that half bad. I have a job at an art store on North Avenue, it's full of suave rich little stores and café's that sell god damn croissants for over $20. Despite everything, I dress up well and tame my frizzy dark blonde hair into a bun, and set off every other day. The pay's not exactly great but complaining would make the pay nothing at all, I can get enough.
However as any plan goes, there is a flaw. The reason why I'm doubtful to leave too soon, or the reason why i'm leaving so soon after school at all is because of my dead beat father. He may seem nice on the outside, but the bruises and scars all over my body, say differently. My mother left him 7 years ago for France, and a younger man for that matter. She sends postcards on birthdays, that ultimately get burnt by my father's cigarette lighter. Despite looking after me in a Holy Catholic nature for about 10 years, she was never cut out for the material aspect to motherhood...so basically motherhood. So she and her lover left for France, my father and myself knew that it was bound to happen, she would always take a chance and flirt with anything that moved. I guess God gave her the right to do so, she was blessed with angel-like features: soft blonde hair, pouty perfect pink lips, cat shaped blue eyes. The eyes of everyone in a room on her. Once she left, my father who strangely despite his present behaviour of abuse towards me, turned from a kind, caring papa to the shell of a man who kicks, punches, burns and stabs me whilst profanities spilled from his sick ridden mouth.
Being brought up in a religious home means...Yes, I guess I do believe that there's a big man up there looking down on us with his long white beard. It's hard to come across who lives in the bad side of Gotham is a Catholic, because most of Gotham has lost faith in their City, and also in what's good.
I take everything that monster does to me, and every bitter remark of his daughter being the reason 'she left' so that Toby doesn't have to. Sorry forgot to mention, the whole Daddy hits me Gotham cliché is the reason why I want to leave, but the reason I can't is because of my younger brother Toby. He is eight and he doesn't even know what our mother looks like, he just knew that 'Mommy is very busy and she can't come home'; he's the reason why I can't leave. The only two reasons so far I got from my father's abuse towards me and not Toby, is because over my dead body he will ever harm Toby. My brother is the most important thing to me, next to my education, and there is no way in hell I would let him be put in danger. My second hypothesis… no no theory (hypothesis' need to be tested out and I will not stand for that) is that ever since the my mother's absence from our lives, our father has downgraded women as 'thieving filthy gold diggers'. Men to him are superior, this sexist ideology is influenced by the lack of women high in profile in Gotham itself. Well their used to be one called Rachel Dawes,(a district attorney) but she died seven years ago because of the Joker. No wonder. Even if.. and I mean if... Toby was my half brother, our father will swing his fist first as me, and believe me I have not gone without speculating.
As my mother was blessed with her beauty, I was cursed with it. Toby only had her eyes, he has a small resemblance of our father, chestnut brown messy straight hair and same facial features, but none the less is innocent and kind hearted. I myself was the opposite, I had darker hair than my mother, but I has his eyes. His distasteful hazel-green eyes. My skin was paler than both of theirs, but you could tell I was my mother's daughter, Adaline's the name by the way. I guess my growth spurt is about as finished as a hare in a race, as I stand at 5"6. We're both skinny, myself and my brother, with father's okay paid job as a clean up man, for a certain Italian mob (we don't mention work) that is mostly spent on booze, cigarettes, a huge stash of porn and food only for himself, as well as my job at the art store of which a quarter of the pay goes to makeup to conceal scars and ever going bruises, we keep ourselves just above malnourished.
This is the kind of cliché Gotham sob story that's all around the poorer East end area. That's where we live by the way, it wasn't always like this, we lived in a house along the good side of our great city, mind you just the three of us before Toby was born, great garden, nice views of the good side. Our mother despite religion, was a high end entertainer, who used to go to the large casino clubs full of rich old mob men and gold diggers. As for our father, surprisingly enough, he was actually a cop and good I gather, by the respectful glances from older cops when passing the Police station to Toby's Elementary school, Gotham Elementary (Everything in Gotham is called Gotham). When Toby turned one, she left no doubt with one of the casino's french mob visitors but the physical abuse came after three years. In stages of abuse: first it was just verbal, then physical, then life threateningly physical. Thank god Toby was a quiet baby. He'd ask me now and then why 'daddy' does it, but I can't answer.
Can I really explain the reason I was passing out from blood loss over a stab wound whilst paramedics arrived JUST in time was because our mother couldn't handle being, our mother? He knows about the abuse, but I tell him to keep quiet. I make up stories that hopefully one day becomes my life of how when I get out of school I'll whisk both of us away to live in another apartment. No more abuse, no more pain. There is no way I'm letting the city's social workers know about this, I can take the pain, but I cannot handle them taking Toby away from me.
These are the thoughts that run through my head ever single day, sometimes I formulate new and more improved ideas into sync of the plan. I left school early, to be honest the teachers don't check, the maths test we did I had finished 40 minutes before due time ended so I had time to go to the library and check out a novel that I need to start on my english essay. The book safely in my bag, I put my cold hands into my mother's old coat pockets that hangs loosely above my figure. The black detail once polished and pristine, had become worn out and matted. The only reason my father hasn't burned the damn thing was because he sort reason for me to have the coat, many thanks to the big man up above. The cold did not have a great impact of the streets of Gotham, people didn't come out as much, but Gotham always seemed busy. My route after school is always simple, I go to the store with as little money as I have, I buy the expensive camouflage make up (or as I liked to think expensive) that covered the bruises and scars on my arms and face as well as food for the evening. I pick up Toby from Gotham Elementary and head off home, making dinner before the monster comes back from 'work'.
I buy the expensive make up because i'm allergic to many of the chemicals they use in the lower priced products. Having a rash collide with a bruise does implicate suspicion.
I check my watch, 15:29, I have 31 minutes to get to the store and collect Toby from school then go home. I rush. Definitely running with the huge risk of falling on my ass, but from looking at the current time, I head down towards the subway knowing a short cut to the avenues from Gotham State Library through an alley way (yes, EVERYTHING in Gotham is named Gotham). Cold and scarily harboured by the homeless and other dangerous folk, I skid/ run towards the avenues my bag pounding on my back urging me faster. The ground was not covered in snow, so I don't know how I tripped but I managed.
My eyes widened as I realised with in a short space of time there were broken glass and syringes in front of my view. A small shriek or scream escaped my mouth. My hands and body inches away from getting torn from tendon by tendon was saved in a moments flash. I felt two large hands wrap around the sides pulling me back with my saviour from the glassy pavement. My hands cling on to their wrists in a criss cross action. My breathing intensified as I pulled back but lingered on to the stranger, resting the back of my head on their chest ( his chest) my eyes staring at the instruments of fate that could've sliced my palms.
Suddenly I realise what I'm doing and quickly release myself from the stranger, surprised that he didn't chuck me away the second my escape from the glass and syringes. I turned around still within a short distance from him, noticing his attire, he was wearing a purple green suit of some sort he was tall, probably 6'2 ft, and his built strong but lanky. Before I could meet the eye of my saviour, something fell out of his grasp. Gasping as it made a clanking noise of a small shard of metal my instincts told me to be thankful for his presence and I knelt down to pick up the object. It was a switch blade. Sweat then began pouring down my forehead, with shaky breaths i stared at the stranger's shoes. Getting back to the height I was once before, my eyes soon met with the eyes I had only witnessed before caged inside the television we have in our sitting room. His dark pools, were also accompanied by the malicious cheshire grin, smothered and outshone by his coat of flavoursome 'war-paint' with the stench that literally made me suppress a gag. I was in fear, I was in panic, I was at death's end.
He sensed this some how and stretched the smile wider, the smile I always saw from the aftermath of a bank robbery or a murderous hostage tape. The only thing I could think of was how this was going to end. I just then realised he was holding out his gloved hand for the switch blade I had picked up.
"Thank you." my voice is small like a prey to a predator, this only made the insane clown cackle with delight.
"Oh the pleasures all mine, doll." he said grabbing the knife from me.
Please tell me what you think, any opinion is appreciated :) I want to thank those who have read this chapter, I revamped it a little so those who have had the time to read it before may notice only minor hicks. Thank you Thank you Thank you for reading... :)