Catwoman hissed, perfect teeth bared in a feral snarl. She leapt forward, hard nails swiping for my face. I ducked the blow, bringing my cane up to her ribcage. I was surprised when it hit and she hissed once more, this time in pain.
"Wait," I told her, but she struck out with a predator's speed. I wasn't able to avoid her entirely and nails scraped at my cheek. I cried out, clutching my bloodied face with my one free hand. The scar from the kitchen knife had stopped weeping and now I had a deeper set. "I'm a hostage here," I said.
This seemed to ignite a hesitant curiosity in Catwoman, but also doubt. As she took to circling me, I saw her feline eyes flash behind her translucent goggles. Her claws were held at the ready and I didn't miss the whip swinging from her hips.
"You don't seem to be a hostage," her demure voice was filled with intrigue.
"If I was working for the Penguin, I would have called the guards by now," I replied, watching her movements constantly.
"You wouldn't be calling him the Penguin, either," Catwoman narrowed her eyes. "He would have you beaten senseless for using that name."
"I guess you'll have to trust my word, then," I said. "In truth, I need your help….in fact, I might know something that would interest you."
"How so?" asked Catwoman. She ceased her pacing.
"All of these artefacts are replicas. I know where the Penguin keeps his real ones."
Turning her back on me, Catwoman strolled over to a nearby painting. She didn't touch it, merely stared up at it longingly. I followed her line of sight. She was admiring the Penguin's fake copy of The Scream by Edvard Munch.
"Are you telling me that this piece is forged?" she purred.
"Yes, I am," I stepped up beside her. I saw this as my one realistic chance to escape from the manor house. I was sick of being a prisoner. "But if you want to know where the real copy is, I'll need a favour from you in return."
"What do you want?" Catwoman's attention snapped back to me. She raised an eyebrow.
"Like I said, I'm a hostage here," I explained. My eyes flickered upwards briefly to a still security camera. I frowned, before realising why it didn't move. Why none of them had. Catwoman had sabotaged the Penguin's security system.
"Go on," prompted the burglar.
"I want you to help me escape. Think of it as stealing another of the Penguin's valuable possessions."
The thief chewed this over in her head, looking slightly apprehensive. I thought she was on the brink of declining, but then her longing gaze turned back to the expensive painting on the wall. I thought I heard an actual purring noise in her throat.
"You have yourself a deal," said Catwoman, causing me to blink in surprise. "But only if you tell me where the painting is first."
"How can I trust you?" I was the one narrowing my eyes this time.
"Perhaps because I despisethe Penguin," snarled the thief. "Did you know he put a bounty on my head? It's part of the reason why I'm stealing his copy of this piece."
"I only have your word on that," I said.
"And I only have yours that this room is a gallery of fakes."
There was an uneasy silence between us as we decided whether or not to trust the other. I didn't have much choice and there was nothing I could lose.
"I overheard a man saying that the real paintings are in a vault downstairs. I guess he meant the basement. There's bound to be a basement to this place, right?" I said.
"There is," Catwoman nodded, no doubt an expert on the building she had broken into. "Where are you being held captive?"
"It's a room on the first floor, at the back of the house." Beyond that, I had no idea. "I'll…I'll stand next to a window."
"OK," said Catwoman sceptically. "Wait there, I should be outside in under an hour. You better not be leading me into a trap here, kid, or you'll regret it."
"My name's Becky," I said. Now that I had obtained what I wanted, I could feel my confidence slipping. I could feel the stutters and pauses wanting to rise back into my mouth. "And you'll see I'm not lying. Good luck…getting to the vault."
"I don't need luck," spat the thief. She retrieved a black bag that had previously been nestled on the floor and swung it over her shoulder. After rummaging in the bag for a second, she drew out a dark piece of cloth and handed it to me. "Cover the scratches on your face," she said.
I took the material, pressing it into my cheek. I watched as Catwoman sauntered past me and leapt nimbly up to the ledge of the open window. It was a leap I could never even dream of doing. She turned back once to close the glass, before giving me a mock salute as she unravelled her whip and swung away into the night.
Licking the cloth and dabbing it against my face, I squinted at my reflection in a panel of brightly lit glass, until I thought most of the blood had gone. I stuffed the cloth in my pocket as I headed back towards the steel door, hiding my injured cheek behind a curtain of hair.
When I met Dixon, I made sure to walk on the side of him that wouldn't reveal my scratches. As we went in silence back to my room, my eyes caught hold of the occasional security cameras in the corridors. None of them moved, but seeing as an alarm hadn't been raised, I figured that Catwoman had put them on a loop.
"I heard the boss was planning to stop by tonight," said Dixon, just before we reached my door.
"Is that so?" I asked, tone casual.
"Yeah, he said something about keeping an eye on his hostage."
I had to fight a smile as I thought about it. If Catwoman intended to keep her word, I was this close to escaping the Penguin's custody. I imagined him walking into that empty room.
Once I returned to the place where I had resided for the past week, time seemed to crawl by. With each minute that ticked past, I fretted more and more about Catwoman keeping up her end of the bargain. For the best part of an hour, I sat next to the large window with the lights on bright, staring out into the darkness.
I picked up the book I had been reading, skimming through to the page I was on. Subconsciously, however, my mind remained focused on the time. It felt as though it was slipping through my fingers, like I was waiting in a desert and the only water I held was in my fist. Where was Catwoman? When did the Penguin plan on making his little visit?
Just when I felt I had been betrayed, there was a sharp tap on the glass next to me. I jumped from my seat, panic scrawled across my face. Catwoman wore an amused smile from the other side of the window. I just about made out the wink she gave me, before she reached into the black bag perched next to her on the ledge. Unzipping it, her gloved hand disappeared for a moment before bringing out a large glass cutter.
I licked my lips in anticipation. I was getting out of here.
In the same instant that the tool touched the window, my luck changed for the worse.
The door behind me opened.
Catwoman's eyes widened in surprise. She instantly stashed the glass cutter back into the bag.
"Guards!" squawked a familiar voice. "Guards!"
Dixon and Roy rushed into the room, the latter drawing his gun from its holster. By the time they had entered, Catwoman had leapt from the window ledge, swallowed by the darkness. My fist pounded the window, infuriated.
"What is it, sir?" asked Dixon, scanning the room with dark eyes.
"Catwoman!" hissed the Penguin. "She was outside!"
"She's gone," said Roy.
"I can see that, you imbecile. I want her found, now! I want to know what that bitch was here for. Can you understand that, moron?" snapped his boss.
"Yes sir," said Dixon sharply. The two lackeys left the room.
The Penguin stalked towards me, shrewd eyes small and venomous. His pudgy fingers grabbed hold of my chin as he examined the scars on my face.
"You've met with that thief before," he snarled. "What did she want?"
"No idea," I lied badly.
A hard slap landed on my cuts and I felt wings of colour spread across my face. I swallowed my hate.
"Tell me! Why was she after you?" demanded the Penguin. I could smell the faint aroma of cigar smoke, see the sweat shining on his wide forehead.
"She was after your copy of The Scream," I corrected him. "Best of luck getting it back."
Another slap reddened my cheek.
"I bet you helped her, didn't you?" he spat, turning away from me and moving back to the door. "God damn women." He called for more guards and soon three armed men entered. "I want this hostage secure," the Penguin ordered. He swept from the room, umbrella whacking the floor.
I leaned heavily on my cane, glad to be left with just three simple-minded henchmen. Even if they were armed, they wouldn't risk firing a shot at the hostage.
Their eyes followed me as I headed for the bathroom door.
"I'm just cleaning these scratches," I told them quietly. After I had locked myself in, I let a few hot, frustrated tears fall from my eyes. I wanted to be free so much, the feeling tore me in two. I hadn't realised how desperate I was until there had been the hope of Catwoman releasing me.
The expert thief wasn't found that night. I heard the news through Roy and another man, who both returned to my door that evening with automatic weapons. Catwoman had successfully stolen The Scream painting from the underground vault.
That woman owed me, I thought with spite.
Early the following morning, the Penguin had sensors installed outside my window, to sound an alarm if they detected any movement. I smirked as I watched the men on ladders, fiddling with wiring and other electrical components.
Underneath that smirk, I was livid. I was back to square one all over again.
It was safe to say that I wasn't allowed back to the gallery, even if all the displays were completely fake. Dixon was dealt with harshly for letting me step foot in there. It was never revealed that he had told me about the Penguin's vault, so the last I heard, he was still alive. I had to admit I felt bad for getting him into such a mess, even though most of my emotions were spent on anxiety and frustration as opposed to guilt.
No amount of books or endless pacing cured my insatiable want for freedom. I found myself checking the window multiple times a day, just to see if a way out had appeared. I even tried to prize the grate off of the air conditioning shaft. It was no use. I was still trapped.
On the bright side, because my brain always had an irritating habit of finding one, I hadn't been attacked by the henchmen again like on my first expedition to the kitchens. Whenever they saw me, they would always look at the scratches swelling on my cheek and decide that creating any more damage wasn't worth the risk. I guessed I could thank Catwoman for that.
I lay awake one night, staring at the darkness of my ceiling. I thought about being trapped here forever, but realistically I knew they would kill me before then. I might only have a week left to live, a month if I was lucky. It all depended on how patient the Penguin could be.
I hated having my fate in the hands of such a repugnant man.
The solitude in my room I could deal with. The lack of human contact I could handle. But the never-ending feeling that I was a prisoner? It ate away at my resolve.
Never before had I thought I'd be desperate to see the Scarecrow. I wondered if he knew what was happening to me.
I blinked tiredly, yawning at my ceiling. It was an inky blue now, infected with the hues of night. If I stared at the dips and peaks in its pattern for long enough, they morphed into strange yet oddly recognisable shapes.
A drowsy shiver caressed my skin and I decided it was a sound idea to call it a day. I turned onto my side, realising I was far more tired than I thought when my head began to spin. Fumbling for the lamp beside the bed, my fingers reached under its shade for the switch.
The brightness burned me. I snatched my hand back as brilliant white light bathed half the room in an eerie glow. From the corner of my eye, I swore I could see things moving in the shadows. A slow, icy, familiar sensation polluted my bloodstream and I broke into a cold sweat.
That was when I noticed it. Through my delusional gaze, I saw a tendril of odourless vapour nearing me like the hand of an old friend, or the predatory sting of a scorpion. The ventilation grate was exhaling it into the room.
A/N: Another big thank you to all who have read, reviewed, followed and favourited this story! Your support makes such a difference.
I'd also like to apologise, because tomorrow I'll be going on holiday and the next guaranteed update will be Wednesday evening.