Chapter Six

Catch Me If You Can


"But if these years have taught me anything it is this: you can never run away. Not ever. The only way out is in."

Junot Díaz, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao


I had lost track of how long I had really been here.

It probably hadn't been long; two or so days at the most. Maybe three. But my mind made it seem agonizingly longer. It was like the worst minute of your life feeling more like an hour – it felt as though I'd been here for an eternity.

If the Joker was one thing, it was unpredictable. I still had no idea what he wanted with me – his answers were always so vague. It sounded as if he was as confused on the matter as I was. What did the Joker want with me? The obvious answer was that he probably wanted to use me to get to Harvey – lure him into a trap. Harvey was hated by every criminal, after all.

But my brother was smarter than that. He wouldn't waltz in willy-nilly, guns raised. No – he knew better than that. He'd plan things; make sure things were watertight before he tried anything. But I knew I couldn't let him do any of that. I would escape myself. Away from all the Joker's madness and insanity.

My eyes roved over my new prison. It was much nicer than the rat-hole I'd been in earlier. The advantages to this room were many. For a start, it was warm. The Joker had hastily made sure of this – he'd turned the radiator up to its highest temperature. There was also a comfy-looking double bed, (one with luminous green sheets and purple polka-dots, I'll add), and an en-suite bathroom – one which I had used as soon as I had been shoved into this room.

The downside to all of this? It was the Joker's room.

That pretty much overruled the advantages. Would I have to sleep in the same room as that psychopath? Who knew what he would do to me throughout the night?

But my sleeping arrangements in this place were of no concern to me. Today I would get myself out of here. No problem – I knew my way around the Narrows. Once I got myself out of here, I would catch a taxi, cross Gotham River over the bridge, get to Harvey's apartment, and bam – I was back home. I'd just Harvey to pay the taxi fee.

It sounded so very easy.

It felt like such a foolproof plan. Although, I knew, if Harvey were in my situation, he'd do a much better job. I tended to dive into things headfirst, never really thinking over the consequences. I was headstrong. On the other hand, Harvey was very calculative, very cunning. He always slaved over his work; he made sure things were perfect, infallible.

But, really – how hard could it be? The door to this room was unlocked – the Joker had been in too much of a hurry to attend some heist to even consider locking it. Ha! No way could some fragile little sister of the DA Harvey Dent escape, he probably thought.

Well, he was wrong. That clown-faced maniac would regret treating me lightly.


Night was slowly creeping upon the narrows, darkening the pink sky and turning the lilac clouds into black, eerie shapes, which floated ominously in the shadowed sky. The moon was absent this time; it hid behind the clouds, as though it were anticipating the events that were to occur that night.

I was ready. I had peeked out the Joker's door earlier, and the few goons – minus the one that had died – that were sitting in the main room were out like faulty lightbulbs. It was my chance to sneak past them, and run for it.

I had changed a while ago out of that hideous dress, the one I'd worn to the party Bruce had thrown – which seemed so very long ago. Reluctantly, of course, I screwed up the dress into a tight ball and shoved it into the small little bag I'd found in the bathroom. I would have preferred to leave it in the Joker's room, really. I hated dresses. But I knew Rachel would have a cow, so I took it anyway.

Surprisingly, amongst all the green waistcoats, dress shirts, and purple clothing in the Joker's wardrobe, I'd found a pair of trainers and grey sweats. Lovely. Perfect for jogging in. Anyhow, who knew the Joker wore normal clothes? I couldn't possibly imagine him in grey joggies and trainers. It just didn't suit his façade. In fact, the Joker did seem to have a great number of normal-looking clothes.

Take, for instance, those modern looking high-tops in the corner. What on earth would he wear them for? And all those black and white t-shirts and jeans in the drawers – it looked as though the clown had some other life besides being a gun-obsessed psycho.

I shook my head, sighing at my train of thoughts. There was no way that a madman like him could have a normal side to him. No way. I shoved my arms through a brown coat I'd found in the mixture of clothing, and buttoned it hastily over the black shirt I'd gratefully stolen from him, too.

Hey, he wouldn't need it, right? For one, he wouldn't wear these clothes – and two, he had plenty others. The Joker wouldn't miss just a few items of clothing. Besides, what did I care? The Joker stole for a living. He could get a taste of his own medicine.

With a sharp, sure nod, I walked up to the door, and slowly opened it.

I peeked cautiously, taking note of the fact that his goons were snoring rather loudly. They were still out – good. I opened the door further, thanking the heavens that it didn't creak as I did so. With a final look back at my temporary prison, I crossed the threshold from his room and into the main room.

Despite the silence of the room, adrenaline coursed through my veins like wildfire. I had to force myself to tiptoe past the group of sleeping men, and not leg it like I felt like doing – that would only wake them from their slumber. I had to be patient.

I couldn't ruin everything now. I had to be careful.

I winced automatically when I stepped on a creaky floorboard, and glanced quickly up at the goons. No-one stirred. I breathed a silent sigh of relief, continuing my perilous trek across the many miles of wooden floor panelling.

Eventually, I made it to the next door. Without looking back, I twisted the doorknob and opened – dashing inside and shutting it behind me softly.

With a quick, frantic look in the directions on either side of me, I assessed my surroundings. I was in a hallway or sorts, a dark, dirty, browned-walled ratty looking hallway, that is.

Which way? Left or right…right or left? I knocked my brains for a logical way. If only I could have been conscious when they had dragged me here! Surely I would have some idea then what direction we had been heading in!

I pinched the bridge of my nose, willing my racing heart to slow, to let the calmness wash over me like a cooling wave. Now was not the time for fear. That came later.

I lifted my hands up, staring at them, palm upwards. I was left-handed – I always tended to take the left-side of things. I smiled, a memory triggering at this thought.

I remembered when I was only a child, when our mother and…him -had died in that car crash – Harvey and I had been taken to see a man not long later. With no living relatives to be sent to, the man had declared we would be sent to an orphanage. Before we went to live those five miserable years at the orphanage, though, the man had given us possession of our parents' things.

One of the possessions had been his coin – the very one he used to determine whether or not he'd beat us every night. Of course, what we didn't know was that the coin was double-headed. No matter what side it flipped onto, he would get the sick pleasure to beat us till we were black and blue.

I shuddered. I hated relieving those terrifying memories. I kept my mind on that day, thinking back to the other possession he'd shown us. The ring our mother always kept with her – the one she'd gotten specifically made with words carved on it when I was born.

H and A, my little angels.

Those were the six beautiful words she'd engraved into the thick, silver band. She loved us more than life, we were her little angels. A lump rose in my throat as the memories of her tried to resurface, but I shoved them back down into that little mental cage. Where they belonged.

We both wanted the ring. Why would we even want to touch his disgusting, grimy little coin? The very thing that he had used to hurt us, torture us. Break us.

I wanted to throw away the coin, into Gotham River, where it could sink and lie in the murky depths forever. But Harvey had had other ideas. He took both of these possessions – one precious, and one which felt like a bad omen – into each of his hands. I had watched, a mere seven year old, transfixed – as he hid both fisted hands behind his back.

Harvey had asked me to choose a hand. He claimed that it was the only fair way of deciding things.

So, naturally, I picked the left hand. And I received my mother's ring. I looked at my left hand again, smiling at the shiny, silvery ring around my index finger. I never, ever took it off. Of course, when I needed to shower and sleep I did, but apart from that, it was constantly there – on my left index finger.

Harvey, of course, got his evil little coin. I couldn't understand, though, to this day why he'd kept it. If it was me, I'd have thrown it in some deep, dark pit – where it could never return, where I'd never have to see it again. But Harvey didn't want that. For some reason I couldn't possibly fathom, Harv kept it so he could decide things. Instead of rock-paper-scissors, instead of eeny-meeny-miny-moe, he flipped our abusive father's double-headed coin to make those decisions.

I clenched my fist, glaring determined holes into the floor. It was time to get out of here now, before the Joker returned.

With a sure smile on my face, I took the left route.

The left corridor stretched on for what seemed like an eternity – but when I finally reached the end, there was an exit. I wanted to laugh, to cry with joy – but first, I had to find a means of escaping the Narrows. I could have run across the bridge, but I had no energy left for that. It was a struggle just keeping my feet planted on the ground. I was hungry, too. My stomach rumbled painfully at this revelation, but I paid no mind to it.

So, as my plan had dictated, I'd take a taxi. There were plenty of those around the Narrows – I just had to hang in there until I found one.

I stepped out into the cold air through a set of iron, rusted doors. When I turned back to look, I realised my prison was in fact a humongous, desolate warehouse. So now I knew where the Joker hid! I had so much information to give my DA older brother – we could finally lock up that madman, with the help of the GCPD.

I walked briskly down the empty, dark road, snuggling further into my thin brown coat as I walked. I just had to keep walking – civilisation wasn't hard to find here. I was in the more sinister part of the Narrows. Once I got closer to the bridge, there would be an abundance of taxis.

It wasn't long until I could very clearly see Gotham Bridge. It was very easy to spot the big, red bridge, which very subtly arched over the inky black Gotham River. My walking pace quickened, my stride fixed. I just had to reach the bridge…

I was very surprised when a black car seemed to appear out of nowhere. I watched, slightly wary, as it rolled along with me. It wasn't hard to see that it was in fact a taxi. But I was apprehensive: I knew enough to know that they didn't run in these parts. This was the more sinister part, remember?

I frowned when the front window rolled down. I couldn't see the person's face, as it was hidden in shadow.

"Need a ride, sweetheart?" I heard the person ask – definitely a male. "You look a little dead on your feet there."

I chuckled humourlessly. "Slightly," I returned, my teeth chattering. I saw the man reach over to unlock the passenger side door. Why it was locked in the first place, I'd never know.

"I'll give you a ride to wherever you need, doll," He promised. "Free of charge." My eyes widened speculatively. Free of charge? Now that was suspicious. Nobody, especially in the Narrows, would even think of giving something away free.

But then came the reasoning: I was tired, hungry, and cold. The taxi looked warm and inviting, the man seemed nice, suspicious or not. All I had to do was jump in, tell him where to take me, and I was scot-free. It was so very simple.

I bit my lip, swaying slightly on the balls of my feet in my indecision. Should I take this man's offer? Or keep going, following the dark river towards Gotham Bridge?

Suddenly, the man sighed. "Gosh, sorry lady, but I can't wait here all evening. I gotta go," He prompted. "Wife to greet, kids to see… you know how it goes."

My heart leapt up to my throat. I couldn't let my only chance escape! I rushed over to the car, yanking it open. I almost toppled over in my haste. I wasn't sure, but as I climbed into the taxi, I was almost certain I heard the man snicker – as though he'd told a funny joke.

As I shut the door closed next to me, the man spoke again.

"You're so gullible, my little A-bi-gail."

I heard the lock click on the door next to me.

The man swivelled around in his seat, and, in the car's light, I could clearly see his face this time. A pale face – red, scarred lips, dark bottomless eyes, and a grin so scarily mischievous that it laid no doubt in my mind that I was trapped.

I wanted to die right then and there. How could I have been so stupid?

"Time to go home!" I heard the Joker cackle as we made a jerky U-turn, and sped down the shadowy street, back towards my personal nightmare.


This one was fun to write, actually. Tell me what you think:)

P.S. – Anyone notice the Bane quote I slotted into this chapter?