Chapter Four
"So fly away
And leave it behind
Just stay awake
There's nowhere to hide." Away, Breaking Benjamin
I waited thirty whole minutes, just sitting there in that meeting room where my father's dead body still lay, waiting. I could still hear the yells and scuffling of men arguing in the front hallway, and I kept thinking I heard his maniacal laughter. I tried to clear my head, but it was hopless, and I couldn't leave while there was still a hint that I might see them or the Joker on the way. Just thinking about the Joker caused a painful ache in my chest, it caused my heart to beat faster in alarm, and I felt ashamed of myself. Never in living memory had I ever been so terrified of one single thing or person. Never.
I numbly made my way to the door, breathing in and out sharply, and I closed my eyes as I passed my dad's body, shivering as I left the room. I wandered through the many hall ways on auto-mode, scarcely aware of where in the world I was going. As I walked into the front hall, I let out a shaky gasp. In the large, sunny hall were the remains of my father's mob. Bodies were everywhere, and all of them had red and white and black painted faces. They looked as if they had suffocated, and by the look of it, the Joker had pulled the gas. Judging by the fact that I was still alive, he had stopped it before it could spread, and with faint horror, I realized I was the only member of the Gotham City mob left.
With this dizzying thought in mind, I took a few deep breaths to steady myself and carefully walked towards the front door. As I went to wrench it open, I
spied a small piece of paper stuck under the door. Momentarily forgetting the danger I was in, I curiously bent down and looked at the little piece of paper.
It only had one word on, but it filled me with so much horror that I threw up right there on the cold, hard wood floor. I retched and retched, as if I was trying to just throw all of my problems and feelings up, as if by pushing this bile out, i could just make it all go way. I knew I didn't have much longer on this earth anymore, and that my days were now very numbered. It was perfectly clear to me, for on the piece of paper, in what looked suspiciously like blood, was written a single word; 'Soon'.
Clutching the note in my shaking, pale fist, I made my way down the concrete steps. Dusk had fallen, and I hurriedly walked towards my old apartment my father and i had lived in since I was three, ever since my mom had died. I sighed at the thought, and unlocked the door hurriedly and stepped inside. It was strange, somehow. The rooms looked exactly the same, even though the owner was no longer alive. Or actually, the previous owner. It was common knowledge that my father was leaving his entire fortune to me, and it was because of this, perhaps, that I had stayed by him for so long. That despite the fact that I had despised him for what he did, killing and selling illegal things in order to become richer and even more rich, he had never wavered in his decision to leave everything to me. And since all of his boys were all dead as well, I knew of quite a few gangs that would definitely be coming for me now. And it was with this in mind that I carefully placed a fair amount of my clothing into a fairly large bag, and as an after thought added a few more personal items, such as a picture of my family, not bothered by the stupid mafia, or terrible murders, just a normal, happy family taking a picture, and of course I added a few more predictable things like mace spray, and journal and pen. My second bag, which was a considerable amount smaller than my possession bag, was my remote bag.
With both bags in hand, I made my way to my father's old room. It looked quite the same as ever, except it had the slight spooky feeling that all rooms seem to possess once their owner had passed away. At the time, however, I couldn't think about such things right then, and I shook the thoughts out of my head as i made my way to my father's closet. It was fairly spacious for a closet in a little apartment building, but this was not the time to admire good architecture. I quickly moved all of my father's suits and things out of the way until I found what I was looking for; the remote control. I hastily stuffed it in the second smaller bag and slammed the closet door shut. This remote opened the lock on our top secret vault, which was located in the most prestigious mob bank, and inside that vault, was our entire fortune, and I didn't like the idea of the Joker, or anyone else, getting their filthy hands on it.
I carefully changed into pajamas, and taking extra care to lie both of my bags right next to my bed in case i needed a quick get away, got into bed. I thought of all the things that had happened that day, from walking into the meeting room, incredibly bored, to walking out, forced to grow up and accept terrible things just a few hours later. I thought of my father, probably still lying as cold as ice in the meeting room. I thought of Batman, who I wished could just fix everything by snapping his fingers or something. And I thought of the Joker, who had not exactly started this mess (that honor also belonged to her father), but had certainly sent it spiralling downward rather quickly, and quite suddenly, all these thoughts were too much, and in the end, I drifted off to sleep.