Thy Will Be Done
A Life Story of Selina Kyle
Childhood Fantasies
From the very beginning, I knew I had always wanted to lead a better life. I wanted a life just like everyone else. A life where I would be able to wake up in the morning and feel sunshine creep on my face and send every little shiver along my spine down to my toes. I wanted to go down the stairs rushing to see my mother's warm smile glow upon my presence. I wanted my father to hold me tightly in his arms and swing me around in the air calling me his little princess. These are all the things I have wished for so long. Then again, wouldn't any little girl wish for these things? Ever since I can remember, I knew it didn't take a lot to make me happy. Just a simple laugh could bring laughter to my own heart. However, I was born into a family were smiles and laughter only came once a year. I was born and raised in poverty. As a child, I had to spend my days in the old basement cellar of our townhouse, where my room and belongings were. Sure, the air there was stale, there were pieces of moss and mould clinging to the walls, making spiders and cobwebs grow and spread, and in the winter, the old furnace in the basement was never working, so as a result, I always ended up catching a horrible case of the flu.
I was the second youngest of four children. I had an older brother, named Mike. He was my father's favourite. Perhaps that was because Mike behaved entirely like my father. Apart from being the oldest, and the man of the house, Mike and my father often spent their time on the living room couch, which was old and torn nearly into a hundred pieces, stinking from the disgusting smell of millions of cigarette stains imprinted onto it. Although Mike was only fifteen years old, my father allowed him to smoke and drink as much as he pleased. Mike and my father together were like two peas in a pod. They were inseparable. Oh how I hated it when the spent nearly six hours every night watching football, basketball, hockey, and played endless video games. The rule in our household was whenever Mike and my father go together for a little 'father and son bonding' we would all have to get out of their way and keep silent. I usually went down to my room and slept anyways.
After Mike, I had a sister named Cassie. Cassie was eleven at the time. Cassie was no one's favourite in particular. She just hung around the house like a spirit haunting an old building. Cassie had barely survived horrible seizures years ago when she was six, and as a result, she was permanently paralyzed. She had a very old wheelchair which was given to her from the hospital years ago. Since we were too poor to buy a new one, the one Cassie was in was literally falling apart. The once blue leather seats were now stained brown from old experiences with snot, vomit, and dihearrea. The seats were torn, and stuffing everywhere was falling out, covering the house. The wheels were grey and nearly completely worn out. I have no idea how Cassie managed to wheel herself around the house at all on those wheels. The effects from Cassie's seizures had left her blind in her left eye, which had gone grey, and deaf in her right ear. Whenever she and I would play outside, or if I wheeled her around in our backyard, we would usually draw nasty glares and disgusted looks from neighbours. My mother herself didn't even try to look at Cassie much. She usually ignored her or told me to look after her.
I came next after Cassie at seven years old, and then the youngest was my baby sister Maggie. Maggie was a favourite. She was my mother's favourite. My mother cooed and loved Maggie more than any of us. She always had time for Maggie; she had plenty of food all the time for Maggie, and plenty of toys. Maggie's extra attentions from my mother never angered or made me envious in any way, but I often looked at my mother bouncing Maggie in her lap, telling her how cute and adorable she was, and how much she loved her. The sight of them made my own heart ache. It was not that my mother didn't love me at all; it was just the fact that she rarely showed it. My mother's way of showing that she loved me was sending me for gymnastic classes. One day, when I was barely two years old, my mother had noticed my natural but odd gift of balance. I was able to balance on one foot as a baby, and almost attempt a small cartwheel. Right before I turned three, my mother decided to send me for the best gymnastics school she could find. Ever since then, I had been slowly making progress, impressing my father and mother slightly as each day passed. Unfortunately, since five months ago both my parents were laid off from work, and didn't have a lot of time to see my newest tricks in gymnastics. Cassie however never ceased to show her interest whenever I took her outside in her wheelchair and practiced my beam routines on an old bench. She would laugh and scream whenever I would do my routine perfectly. One day, Cassie and I were playing normally in the park near our house, when three big bullies who hated me from the first time we moved into the neighbourhood approached with their girlfriends. I was nearly ten at the time, and didn't know how to handle myself well around bullies.
One particularly mean boy named Matt Lilja who was two years older than me sat near a tree with his friends Kevin Rodriguez, who was my age, and another boy I didn't really recognize. They stopped nearly three yards away, glaring at Cassie. I turned to look at Cassie. There was saliva dripping from her mouth, as she was unable to control her movements. She gurgled and stopped squirming in her seat as she set eyes on Matt. At once she looked up at me helplessly. Even though Cassie was four years older than I was, she always looked up to me for guidance and protection.
"Kevin, look, its spaz girl and her younger sister." Matt jutted out his thick jaw to point at Cassie and me. Kevin immediately began imitating my sister. He began drooling all over himself, and shook his head back and forth screaming like an idiot. Beside me, Cassie began screaming angrily. Although she was unable to communicate properly like everyone else, Cassie still understood everyone and everything perfectly. She began flailing her arms about, screaming louder and louder by the second. I bent down next to her and told her that I would handle it. She calmed down immediately.
"Matt why don't you grow up?" I yelled back. Matt and a couple of his friends whistled. Matt shook his head. "No thanks." He laughed loud at his own joke.
I turned and grabbed a hold of Cassie's wheelchair and headed home before anything else could happen. From behind me, Kevin yelled another stupid immature insult, but I ignored it.
It was four o'clock when I got home. As usual, I found my mother on the couch, talking on the phone with a friend. I rolled Cassie's wheelchair inside quietly as I could, hoping she would not hear me. However, she did. My mother turned to look at me, her blue eyes reflecting fire. She hung up the phone as soon as I sent Cassie to her room.
"Selina where the hell have you been? Do you know what time it is?" She beckoned, her sharply manicured nails tapping on the kitchen counter.
I sighed. "It's four."
"Damn right it is." She growled. I hated four o'clock. Four o'clock everyday after school meant gymnastics practice until six-thirty. Two and a half hours of gymnastics everyday was tiring.
"Can I please not go today mommy?" I begged. This caused my mother to yell even louder.
"Are you crazy? Do you have any idea how much we pay for those classes?"
I closed my eyes. This was ridiculous.
"Those classes are costing me a fortune Selina! The least you could do is go to them even when you don't want to!" She scolded, gathering her purse and car keys. I grumbled but didn't argue back as I gathered up my leotard and shorts, and waited for her outside.
"Ah, Selina Kyle, this is your third late in the last two weeks." My coach, Mr. Williams was very strict on time and order. He had been keeping track of my lates ever since a month ago. So far, I was his second best student. I used to be his best, until Carla Tomlin moved into town two months ago. Carla was a regular show off. She always had to be better than me at everything. Even in school, she had to have the better marks, the attention from all the teachers, and she was also Matt's girlfriend. Carla and I hated each other as much as dogs hated cats. We were sworn enemies. Carla knew the ways to piss me off good and she always would. Sometimes, Carla would bring Matt Lilja along with her to her practices, because she knew how much we both hated each other. Matt and I would spend the whole class sometimes arguing. Today was one of those days. Matt and his friends were sitting on the far bench in the corner of the room, laughing as they saw me enter the gym. I nearly tripped over a bag as I walked in the change rooms to change.
When I was out and ready to work out, Carla picked out a spot near me and smiled at me. Her smile was not the least bit friendly at all. She was trying to get on my nerves as usual. I threw my head back and began stretching. When I bent over to stretch my back, Carla laughed. I looked at her. "What's the big deal?" I asked.
"Don't overdo it; you'll tear a hole through your second hand leotard!" This brought a howl of laughter from the rest of the girls who hated me, and Matt and his friends. Everyone always teased me even at school because I always wore hand me downs from Mike and Cassie.
I glared at Carla hard enough to poke a hole through her head, but she went on with her routine. She started off in the center of the mat, and ran to the right side of the mat, flipping as she did so. Then in another series of aerials and other flips, she soon finished her routine. She walked back over to me smiling. "Let's see your routine Selina." She challenged.
I chuckled and walked over to the balance beams. Carefully, I faced the beam standing at least three meters well away. Then I broke into a small run and did a round off into the air and landed on top of the beam safely. Carla clapped sarcastically. I slowly balanced on one foot and turned a full turn. I was now facing the front of the gym. I did two back walkovers in a row, and now faced the end of the beam. I was now preparing for the big finish. I ran forward a bit, and then leapt into the air, preparing for a full throttle twist.
"Psych!" Carla yelled. Unfortunately, this distracted me, and I fell flat on my chest harshly. Carla clapped again, and Matt and his friends booed in pain. Everyone everywhere soon laughed.
"Good job Selina!" Carla yelled, and then went back to work. I stood up from my fall, rubbing my stomach in pain. My coach walked over to me, shaking his head.
"Dammit Kyle! What the hell was that?" He cried, throwing his hands into the air.
I turned and looked at Carla doing a perfect round off. "She distracted me!" Mr. Williams rolled his eyes. "Selina, you are pathetic, as a professional, there will always be many distractions out there, you need to learn to control yourself."
I nodded painfully. It was not fair. Carla never got in any trouble.
Mr. Williams looked over me a few times before speaking. "Selina, I don't know what I am going to do with you. You used to be the best, what happened?" He left me, standing there in the corner of the gym in my old leotard, wondering the same question over since two years ago.
Years of Abuse
After gymnastics, I had to take the city bus by myself to get home, since my mother was always making dinner at this time, and my father did not know how to drive. When I got home, I was cold, tired, and hungry. I followed the sweet smell of chopped up carrots, until I found my mother at the stove, throwing in a pile of chopped carrots into the pot. Lately, all we had been eating was vegetable soup. I was sick of it, but I didn't want to get my mother upset, so I smiled and hugged her tightly as I crept up behind her. She gasped when she felt my cold hands wrap around her waist.
"My goodness! You're cold!" She cried, nearly throwing the carrots onto the floor.
I laughed. "Well it is cold outside silly!" My mother laughed as well, handing me a small piece of a carrot.
"How was gymnastics baby?" She asked, putting the lid of the pot on. I shrugged. I hated it when she asked me how my classes went. If she was so interested, then she should have come and seen them. I answered her anyways, wanting to keep her in a good mood. "It was okay." I said casually.
She brushed a loose strand of honey blonde hair out of my face. "Just okay?" I shrugged my shoulders. "Sure."
My father soon came hustling inside the kitchen like an angry bear. Judging by the look on his face, he was not in a good mood. He tore open the door of the fridge and growled. He turned to my mother, still drunk. A dirty grey stubble on his face showed that he hadn't shaved in a while. His white shirt was slightly brown from beer stains and cigarette ashes. He smelled horrible as well.
"Maria, where the hell is my beer?" He asked, saliva suddenly pouring out of his mouth. My mother turned back to her food. "Brian, I have finally decided that I am buying you no more beer."
"What?" He barked.
"Brian, you and I both know that alcohol turns you crazy, this right now isn't you, and you are making Mike a drunkard too. I will not let you ruin our son like this." She stepped further back, covering me.
"You stupid bitch! Who are you to decide what Mike and I do?" He asked, drawing nearer and nearer to my mother's shaking figure.
She tried to hold back her tears and talk in a strong voice, but I knew her voice was soon going to break. This wasn't the first time my father had swore at my mother, but lately he had been increasing the number of times he did it, now to at least five times a week.
"I am the one making the money in this house, and I don't think you should be drinking anymore honey." She cried. Before she could even finish her sentence, my father punched my mother hard in the jaw. She toppled back over the counter, nearly falling on top of me. She pushed herself up slowly. "Brian please." She begged.
My father pointed a crooked finger at me accusingly. "You always complain about having no money, and yet in the end y-you always have enough money to keep sending her to those stupid gymnastics classes!" He yelled, causing a few dishes to rattle. I covered my ears with my hands as tightly as I could.
My mother slowly stood up, her feet quaking from fear. "But Brian, Selina has found those classes useful, and she practices! Gymnastics are actually helping improve her gift!"
"Shut-up, you don't know shit. You are useless." My father spat.
"I am not useless! I am the one driving your ass everywhere looking for a good job for you, and this is the respect I get? I drive at least! You can't even do that! What kind of a father are you?" She cried, balling her skinny hands into tight fists.
"I said shut-up!" Another hard blow to my mother's face sent her reeling backwards and onto the floor. I ran to my mother.
"Stop it!" I screamed at my father bravely.
He turned and glared at me on the floor, trying to cover my mother in defence.
"What the hell are you doing?" He grabbed me off of my mother's body, and slapped me hard in the face. I screamed in pain.
"You're the cause of everything you little bitch!" He yelled in my ears.
"Don't!" I yelled between tears and screams. My mother soon got up again, and shoved my father hard. "Don't you hurt my baby!" She screamed, ripping me from my father's arms and into her safe loving ones. My father grabbed a small pot off the stove behind him and threw it into the kitchen floor.
My father took a step toward my mother, and then backed away. "You both can go to hell." He growled. He then walked out of the kitchen, leaving my mother and me crying in each others arms softly.
That night, as Maggie, Cassie and I sat watching T.V. with our mother, I nuzzled safely beside her underneath the warm blankets that covered us. My mother smiled and kissed my cheek. "Are you okay baby?" She asked.
I nodded. "Mommy, why is daddy hurting us?" I asked gently, hoping not to wake my father, who lay a couple of feet away, an empty bottle of beer resting in his hands. He snored and dropped the bottle, scaring Cassie.
My mother ruffled my hair playfully. "Daddy's been having a rough time lately honey."
"But why?"
"I don't know sweetie, I really don't know." She turned over and hugged me tightly. I felt her tears dripping gently on the top of my head. I looked up at her. She turned her face away from my view. "Never let them see you cry. Never let them see you cry Selina." She told me.
"Who?" I asked in a tiny voice which seemed to freeze my mother's movements. She silently got up from the couch and tucked me in the blanket. After an eternity, she replied. "The men." She then walked out of the room.
I heard the water in the bathroom turn on, and I assumed she was taking a bath. After a couple of minutes, I heard no noise from the bathroom. I got up carefully, and kissed Cassie goodnight. I looked at my sleeping father and shook my head. What good was he for?
As I headed toward the bathroom, I sensed something was wrong. Why wasn't my mother breathing? Or at least crying? Last time when she went into the shower it was because she had gotten hit by my father again, after she had called him useless. She said the water calmed her heartbeat down and soothed her. But why wasn't she breathing now? Carefully, I pushed open the bathroom door. The curtains of the shower were red, so I couldn't see her form behind them. I stood in the doorway, not sure what to do. Should I head off to bed, or stay until she felt better? All the possibilities ran through my head over and over, until I finally chose to stay and help her.
I walked slowly across the red matching carpets, holding my breath. "Mommy? Are you asleep?" I asked.
There was no answer from the tub. I inched closer. I held out a small shaky hand, scared to pull back the curtain. What if she was sleeping and didn't want to be bothered? I pulled my hand back. I decided to call her again.
"Mommy? You can't sleep in there, it's not comfortable."
She still didn't answer. I stood still, waiting for a sob or a snore, but heard nothing but dreaded silence instead. I felt goose bumps soon forming on my skin. What was she doing in there? Finally, I couldn't stand it. I had to know. With full force, I pulled back the curtain, only to find my mother's lifeless body in the tub. She had slit her wrists with a razor. She had committed suicide. I screamed with all my might. But deep down inside, I knew, no matter how much I screamed to bring her back, she wouldn't come back.
A week after my mother's suicide, the police had come in from time to time, to ask my father and me questions about my mother. An officer asked me how my mother was feeling before the suicide, how she handled her job, and if she was under any stress. Although I knew the answers to all of these questions, I didn't respond. I knew for a fact that if I had responded, and told the officer everything and the whole truth about my father and mother, they would take me away from him. He was all I had left. Mike had run away from home two days after my mother's death, Cassie was so depressed and angry that she locked herself in her room and didn't let anyone come in even to feed her and Maggie began growing sick and she cried a lot.
One night, I had warmed up some chicken noodle soup for Cassie. She was getting bone thin from not eating. I knocked on her door softly. "Cassie?" I called gently.
"OO!!!!!" She yelled back. She meant for me to stay away.
But I was not giving up that easily. "Cassie you have to eat something!" I called into her door. There was nothing but silence on the other side. Still, I was not letting the topic go.
"Cassie I have some nice warm soup for you!" I cried, tapping the spoon on the ceramic bowl. From inside her room Cassie muttered something. I stood still. "I can come in?" I asked, a little doubtful.
"AAA!" Cassie yelled, which was her way of saying yes. I opened the door gently, not trying to scare her. She eyed me from her window seat, and looked at the bowl of soup next.
"See Cassie? It's good for you!" I sat down in front of her and smiled. "Do you want some?" I asked nicely. Cassie nodded painfully. I dipped the spoon into the bowl and brought it slowly to her lips. "Open up." I was almost near her mouth, when she buckled her wheelchair, knocking the bowl of soup onto my lap.
I jumped up, screaming in pain, running out of her room crying. Cassie turned back to her window laughing slightly.
Not that Maggie was any better. She cried plenty whenever I tried to hold her or sing to her, she kicked and moved a lot whenever I tired changing her, and giving her a bath was horrible.
My father was so overcome with grief and remorse, that he soon began drinking double. Instead of drinking the usual two beers a day, he dosed it up to two packs. Some nights he woke me in my sleep by the sounds of his cries and pleads. Everything was now left in my care. I had to make dinner, watch over Maggie, and try to get Cassie to eat. I missed three gymnastic classes, and eventually my coach called and told me I was off the team. The last month was horrible on me. Some nights I didn't get any sleep at all. I just stayed awake, worrying if my father was going to wake up the next morning sober or not.
School also had become a handful. A lot of students had heard about what had happened to my mother, and instead of trying to help me overcome her death, they teased me even more about it. Homework began flooding my locker and filling my whole room. I had no time to even think. My teachers kept calling my house over and over, wondering when I was going to hand in projects I had received months ago. Years flew by like days; I had so much to do in those years that I lost track of the time and how old I really was.
To make all the matters worse, one day when I had come from school, I found my father dead on the living room couch. I walked up to him, unsure if he was actually sleeping, or passed out. I shook his shoulder gently. He did not stir. I called him and whispered in his ear. When he didn't respond after a few times, I looked down at him in silence. Suddenly, a strange but comforting thought ran through my head. Now was my chance! Here was my father, drunk as hell, lying on the couch as helpless as ever. I decided to go along with it. Slowly, I raised a hand, and slapped my father's face as hard as I could. It felt good, hitting him as he had hit my mother and I so many times years ago. I laughed when he didn't move. Again I raised my hands and slapped him over and over as hard as I could, screaming mean things to him, things he had said to my mother. It felt good, repeating them, for all he was. I had slapped him until my hands were red and sore. Little did I know he was dead. Turns out he had drunk himself to death. I soon called the police knowing I was unable to care for Maggie and Cassie all by myself. The child care services came for Maggie and Cassie and me soon. They took Maggie into a daycare centre for adoption, and Cassie to an Insane Asylum. As for me, well I put up took much of a fight. The last few months alone without my mother had somehow toughened me up a bit. When the officer came to take me away in his car, I actually kicked him as hard as I could in the knees. He fell down, but his partner soon grabbed hold of me.
It was decided that since I was neither a baby nor an invalid, that I was be headed off to a Juvenile Detention Center for Girls. The police drove me for nearly six hours until we reached a city far off from my home. I had fallen asleep in their car, dreaming horrible things, of my mother's tub drenched in blood, of my father's alcoholic smells and screams. I awoke with a start as soon as one officer jerked open his car door.
I blinked several times, trying to adjust to the bright night lights of the city, outlining the whole place. There were such bright lights. Lights of every colour. Down ahead, cars zoomed past on the roads, crisscrossing on intersections, horns blaring every so often. This was one heck of a busy town from the looks of it.
The officers pulled me out of the car, where I could get a better view of the city. A few gathering clouds in the sky warned us that there was soon to be a thunderstorm. Above and around, there were large sky scrapers, and other funny looking buildings with gargoyles and other grotesque statues on them. This place looked so old, and scary. I turned to the officer at my right and glared.
"What is this place?" I asked rudely.
The officer looked at his partner. They both laughed and pulled me towards the doors of the building we were parked in front of.
As the pulled me toward the doors with cuffs on my wrists, the cop on my right turned me to look at him. He had a scary expression on his face that I couldn't read. His black eyes were blank.
"Welcome to Gotham City." He said. Then he opened the doors.
Gotham City
The building we were inside now was Gotham City's central Police Station. It was a very old large building. Inside, police officers walked around, speaking into walkie talkies, and generally doing a lit of paperwork. The two officers pushed me along the way, until I faced a chubby middle aged man sitting at an old brown desk. The man wore thick glasses, had slightly greying hair, and had a brown coat on his chair. On his desk was a half eaten banana, four large old fashioned black telephones, a whole stack of papers, a few stamps, and one small rectangular sign that said 'COMM'. The rest of the sign was hidden behind the papers on the desk.
The man was on one of his phones at the moment, and he smiled at one of the officers. They sat me down on a cold chair in front of the man's desk. No sooner had I sat down, when a horrifyingly long streak of lightening flashed across the sky. Ten seconds later, then rained poured hard. It pelted down on the windows so hard; I was wondering if the old windows would hold.
Suddenly the man slammed the phone down. He ripped up a couple of papers on his desk and threw them into a brown waste basket beside the desk. He read over some more papers for a moment. I looked up behind his head to see an old clock ticking the hours of midnight away. I closed my eyes for a while, thinking the old man was going to take forever.
"Yes, what can I do for you now?" He asked. I opened my eyes quickly. The officer to my left dropped a hand to my shoulder. I tried shrugging it off, but his grip was firm and powerful.
"This young woman here is to be put away in a Detention Center immediately." He said in a deep voice.
The man eyes me from behind his thick lenses. He creeped me out. "I see, and what is her case?" He asked. What the hell was that supposed to mean?
"Well her father was a chronic alcoholic, and her mother was barely able to support the whole family."
The officer on my right spoke up next. "Her mother committed suicide not too long ago in the bathroom tub. She had slit her wrists with a razor." His cold words immediately brought back the horrible images I had been working so hard on forgetting. Suddenly, the sick images of the bloody water in the tub returned, the razors falling out of my hands and falling onto the carpets, the screams.
I focused back on the man at the desk. "Why is it that the mother killed herself?" He asked, as if not caring.
"Well she had been abused physically and verbally be the husband for years; I guess she just broke down one day." The officer holding my shoulder explained.
The man nodded. He turned to look at me again. The silence flew back into the room once more. "And who are you young lady?" He asked me directly. I glared at him, trying to get a good view of his brown eyes.
"Who are you?" I spat back. The officer holding my shoulder began squeezing it tightly. I cringed in pain.
The man laughed gently. "Yes, you're right. First things first. I am Commissioner James Gordon at your service." I gave me a slight nod. I didn't even bother nodding back.
"Now, it's your turn. What name do I call you by young lady?" He asked.
I turned away, not answering. The officer holding my shoulder gladly answered for me. "This is thirteen year old Selina Kyle. Born and bred, she is a wild one Commissioner, I'd watch out. I've seen kids like this all the time. Bad from the beginning. They all end up in jail or dead in an alley sometime soon."
His partner smirked. Commissioner Gordon however didn't. He frowned. "I don't think so." He said.
I looked up at him, a little confused. Was he saying what I thought he was saying?
Commissioner Gordon pointed at me. "She is gonna be a survivor. Trust me. Oh yes. She is tough on the outside and inside. There are a lot of folks down here in Gotham for sure. But I assure you gentlemen; Selina Kyle is one new citizen I will never forget."
Once we had left the Commissioner's office, the officers threw me back in their car, and slammed the doors as they settled in. The one who had held my shoulder tightly turned and smirked at me in the backseat.
"I don't care what Commissioner Gordon says, you are a punk, and will always be one." His teeth were slightly yellow, and his breath actually smelled worse than my father's. I turned away from his sight in disgust and looked outside at the rainy sky. There was so much rain splattered onto the windows I wasn't even able to see my own reflection in them.
One officer coughed. He looked at me through the mirror. "Do you know where we are supposed to take you now?" He asked mysteriously.
I rolled my eyes. "Do tell the suspense is killing me."
"All right smart ass; you are headed straight up for the Sprang Hall Juvenile Detention Center, right here in Gotham City." He laughed. Even his partner nodded and looked at me again. "That's the worst detention center we have for girls like you who don't want to abide my any rules."
I rolled my eyes tried to appear confident, even though I was a little worried about where exactly I was going. "Big deal, my own neighbourhood was worse than whatever is in there."
The officers laughed and shook their heads again. "Well, whatever you say, we are here already."
"What?" I craned my neck as far as it would go with my wrists handcuffed to the chair, and right ahead of us, through the windshield wipers cleaning the dashboard window of the car, I saw it. I saw a large grey sign, with many stains and half of the letters missing. But I could still make it out. It clearly said: GOTHAM CITY'S SPRANG HALL JUVENILE DETENTION CENTER-A PLACE FOR CORRECTING THE FUTURE CRIMINALS OF GOTHAM
I snorted. "Future criminals? Wow."
The officers blasted their car horn, and slowly, a tall man wearing a yellow raincoat ran over toward a large wired fence just blocking our way to the large building. He pressed a few numbers on the gate's side, and slowly and loudly, it creaked open. The officers drove right in, and waved a salute to the man in the coat. I tried hard to see his face, but he turned quickly and left.
The officers pulled into the parking lot, and stopped the car. The both turned to me and smiled evilly. "Any last words?" The one in the driver's seat asked.
"You both go to hell." I said, sounding more like my father than I meant to. The officers simply laughed and carried me out roughly into the rain.
As I was dragged my the officer like an old toy, I caught a good view of the detention center even through the hard rain. The building was as old as the one previous. The windows were splattered with all kinds of junk, bird droppings, some areas were cracked and re-fixed, and many other knives and bats were stuck in the glass. It looked more like a slaughter house than a detention center. Around the premises of the building, a huge wire surrounded the whole place. The wire was thickly barbed, sharp, and over twelve inches high. There was no way on earth anyone would be escaping this horrid place.
Once we were inside, I didn't feel any warmer than I was when I was out in the rain. The detention center was poorly lit, there were cheap bulbs hanging from the ceilings, and the walls were cracked, had holes in them and were marked with blood stains and many other stains unrecognizable to my eyes.
A chubby lady stood waiting before us, grinning widely. She wore a white suit that barely fit around her, held together by a thick black belt, she had at least two dozen keys jingling from her left pocket which seemed to make her left side bulge, her greying hair was pulled back in a strict pony tail, and she had thick round glasses on to add to her odd looks.
The officer now on my right nodded and tipped his hat. The woman nodded back. "Thank you gentlemen, I trust your journey was well?" Her voice was deep and as thick as her glasses. She actually sent small shivers running up my spine as she spoke.
The officers shrugged. "It was fine Miss Charis, this one gave us a little bit of a hassle, but we got her here safe and sound."
The woman cocked a thick eyebrow. "Hassle? Well, gentlemen, I promise you that she will be taken care of well in here if that is the case." The woman turned and gave me a dirty look. I shot one equally dirty back, but she turned back to the officers.
"What is the young lady's name?" She asked quietly.
"Miss Selina Kyle." Both officers actually said at the exact same time. Miss Charis stopped grinning. She looked down at me, as if I were an ant she had suddenly stumbled upon. She waved the officers away. "Thank you gentlemen, that is all. Good night."
Without any last words or glances, the officers turned and left the old building. The woman left me on the floor, wondering what would come next. Coldly, she walked over to me and looked me over a hundred times through.
"Seen everything yet? Or should I send you the catalogue?" I asked rudely. Miss Charis didn't even twitch a muscle. She reached over and grabbed my skinny face in her cold bony hands. "This is not some silly girls' prep school. No one will be tolerating your stupidity. This is not a Sunday school service program. This is a detention center, no one will be your mother here."