Hiya, Chapter nine for you here! Thanks to Alex'EverdeenHungerGamesUFO for the latest review! This one's for you :P We're back to Gwen here! Read On Holls :P x
The explosions shook the entire building. They seemed so close. The biggest came first, the one that seemed closest. It barely seemed like second until the next one went off, further away, but all the same...
I'd been doing the same as I had done for the past week, watching the wall. The explosions brought me to my senses. I knew I had to leave: Now. I'd tried the escape route before. The window had no way of opening, and the door was locked whenever he was out. There were a few possible ways of escape. Knocking the door down, or smashing the window. That seemed about it.
Hastily, I moved to the opposite end of the room to the door, taking a deep breath. You see it all the time in movies. I ran to the door, and, with all the strength I could muster, kicked it hard. Its hinges gave way, and it collapsed, leading to a narrow hall. I smiled to myself, thinking about when dear Jack was to come home! Turning to look at my prison one last time, I made my way carefully down the dimly lit hall, avoiding making any noise, should there be any of the Joker's henchmen lurking downstairs.
I was right. A man, who looked younger than me, was sat, watching a small TV in the corner of the room. The room in question seemed like my own, or my old one. Small, though bigger than the one upstairs, wooden floors and floor, and a small window. There was a door leading off into what seemed a kitchen and another to an extra bathroom. I peered round the door to see the man with his back to me in an armchair. I looked around the room to find my father's old gun resting on a small table by the armchair. Great. I silently tiptoed around the door, making no noise, however it didn't seem to matter much, if he hadn't heard the door going upstairs, then there must be something up. And there was. The man wasn't moving, and it seemed, he wasn't breathing. I slowly dared to look around the armchair, to see the man lying with a bullet wound in the centre of his head. Staring, with blank, green eyes, the dead man seemed so innocent, and young. Barely late twenties, it seemed. I grabbed my gun, but turned, when I heard a familiar name mentioned.
'- Rachel Dawes, of GCPD, was killed later today in an explosion. It is known that Miss Dawes had been tied to a chair in a room full of Gasoline drums, set to explode. In the same situation close by, was Gotham's District Attorney, Harvey Dent. It is understood that the Batman had saved Harvey Dent's life, but GCPD failed to get Rachel out in time.'
The words sank in like a knife. Rachel Dawes, an old friend. Dead. I thought of Bruce and Harvey. They had both loved her more than anything. I thought of my cousin, not being able to get to her in time. I turned to the man lying before me again. After a second, I gently closed his eyes, giving him the dignity he probably didn't deserve. I quickly left building, stepping out into the fresh air of the night. It felt great to be out in the open again. Leaving behind my prison, I set to find my way home through the night.
