Prologue
A streak of lightning flashes across the sky of Gotham City, lighting up the sky in a brief, yet bright light. Police sirens wail in some far-off area of the city, car horns blast, and stray canines howl at the moon. The sky is cloudy, preventing the stars from being seen by anybody on the ground. The clouds are thick, and move slowly across the black sky.
Jack is sitting down at the table with his mother, holding her hand as she says Grace before they eat their dinner. His home- apartment- is run down. Liquor bottles, cigarette packages and buds are strewn over the ground, making it impossible for anybody to walk across the room without stepping on anything. The wallpaper in the kitchen is peeling, revealing the deteriorating wood framing of the walls. A single chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and unlike the rest of the room, it looks rather new.
Mrs. Napier finishes up her prayer, releasing Jack's hand. She runs a hand through her son's coarse, black hair, and smiles at him.
"You ready to eat, Jack?" she asks, spearing a slab of turkey from the pan on the table and dropping it on to his plate. Jack looks down at it, then back up at his mother.
"Mom… you take some, too," he said, knowing how much work his mother had to put in at the factory to earn some extra money for their dinner.
"No, Jackie… it's alright," his mother said gently, with an un-reassuring stroke of his cheek. "You go ahead and eat."
Jack looked back down at his plate hesitantly. He was hungry, but he didn't want to be the one to take the first bite.
He looked up and exhaled in relief as his mother started to eat from her own plate, her portions much smaller than his. Jack was eight; old enough to know that his mother was trying to make it so that her son didn't go hungry. He watched her swallow her first piece of her dinner before he dug into his, as well.
He glanced up at her every so often, watching her eat. She was skinny, yet not skinny to the point where the outlines of her bones were shown through her skin. Her hair was brown, and cut so that it fell to her shoulders. Despite her skinny figure, she was a very attractive woman. Her eyes were hazel and large, and her lips were smooth and full. Her nose was perfect; it wasn't too small, or too large.
She was the perfect mother.
Jack knew that his family couldn't afford much; his mother hadn't been able to attend college, and his father…
Jack's head jerks upwards, his gaze fixed upon the front door. He drops his fork back down to the side of his plate, his stomach refusing to digest any more food. He loved his mother's cooking; though he had just lost his appetite, remembering that at any minute now, everything could erupt in chaos.
Mr. Napier, Jack's father, was a heavy drinker. He would come home most nights, flailing his arms about and cursing his boss and his job. He was having multiple affairs with different women, all of whom his mother knew about. Jack would remain in his room, reading books while his father was home, and only came out when he either went to work, or went to sleep. His mother would often come into Jack's room with him and read to him, or talk to him, and try to convince him that one day, things would be better. Whenever his mother would tell him that a better future lay ahead of them, he tried to believe her… but couldn't.
Jack had decided to go ahead and continue eating, when he heard lumbering footsteps approaching the door. Before he could move, speak, or even think, his father slams open the door and storms into the kitchen. His bushy goatee moves up and down with his mouth as he shouts curse words at Mrs. Napier, who remains silent, trying to pay no attention to her husband.
This only angers him more. He lowers himself to Mrs. Napier's level, shouting directly into her face. Jack looks up and watches as a tear slowly trickles down her face, and falls off of her cheek and onto her dinner plate.
Jack had never hated anyone before in his life, but finds, with surprise, the amount of anger he had towards his father start to rise as he verbally abused his mother. He wants to do something to stop his father from hurting his mother like this… anything. He wants to scream at his father to stop, to punch him over and over until there was no energy left in him.
Jack watches as his mother suddenly pushes her chair away from her table, shoving her husband aside. She stumbles to the counter, but is temporarily halted by Jack's father, who grabs her wrist. A sickening sound is heard as Mrs. Napier's wrist is dislocated, the sound causing Jack to jump up from the table and shriek for his father to stop. His father switches his gaze to his son. Jack shrinks back a bit under his father's glare, knowing that anything he tried to do would be useless. He watches, helplessly, as his father tightens his grip around his wife's wrist, but lets it go as he sees that she is holding a kitchen knife.
For a brief moment, Mr. Napier seems as if he's giving into his wife. From Jack's angle, it seems as if his mother has the upper hand in this.
His father laughs… a maniacal laugh that sends shivers up and down Jack's spine. The same maniacal personality is shown in Mr. Napier's eyes as he laughs, his chuckles beginning to sound more like cackles.
With a surprising amount of speed, Jack's father manages to snatch the knife out of his wife's hand. He sends his strong and rough hand to her throat, and Jack hears her start to retch as his clench tightens around her neck.
"STOP IT!" Jack screams, banging his fists on the table as hard as he could, trying to distract his father from what he was doing to his mother, long enough for her to try to break free of his grasp.
It is no use.
Time seems to freeze as Jack's father slowly turns around to face his son. His hair is disheveled, his shirt unbuttoned, and his eyes ablaze in madness. His gaze bores down into his son's, his grip not lessening around his wife's neck. He opened his mouth to speak, his rotted teeth making Jack's stomach turn.
"Why… so… serious…?" his father growled at him, before bringing the knife up to his mother's mouth.
NO!! Jack's voice screamed in his head. He opened his mouth to shout at his father, to say anything to stop him from doing anything to his mother.
Mr. Napier brings the knife across his wife's mouth, causing Jack to scream in terror and rage. He buries his face into his hands, hearing his mother's blood-curdling scream ring through their small apartment, nearly deafening him. He sprints towards his father, his fright leaving him. All that was left was left was him, his fists, and his feet, which he would use to kill his father with.
A thud. His mother's body falls to the floor, though Jack couldn't bare to look down at her. He ran up to his father, his fists beating against his chest, which felt like hitting a block of cement. His father simply cackled, amused at the boy's pathetic attempt at hurting him.
Jack felt his father's hand close around his head, which was yanked backwards so that his eyes met his. Mr. Napier still held onto the blade, which he now stuck into his son's mouth.
"Let's put a smile on that face…" his father snarled.
Jack's eyes widened in terror, finally realizing that his father was oblivious to his fright. There was nothing he could do. His father was going to kill him, and there was nothing he could do. His mother was still lying on the floor, her body still. Jack wanted nothing more than to be in his mother's arms at that very moment; to be held, and be told that everything would be alright. That everything would be better.
He never remembered the blade cutting through his mouth.
He blacked out before the blade cut through his flesh, leaving scars on both sides of his face.