Nine – One
I looked like fucking shit.
I hadn't stopped, not once, not really, to take a look at myself after Arkham. I looked like a ghost. I had lost a fair amount of weight, there were massive-ass bags under my eyes, and my skin looked taught and stretched over my bones. I ached. I was hungry. I was sick.
I was tired and worn, but I was happier than I had been in weeks.
I had slept through a full night and now I was taking my first shower in what felt like ages. I had bathed, but it hadn't been a big deal. I was often too tired to stand in the water. I didn't want to hear myself think. My hands rubbed shampoo into what little hair I had and the stream washed everything off. I let the hot water (and I mean hot, like we didn't get a lot of hot water in Bane's Gotham but shit this was steamin') fill my lungs and I even played with it. You know when you fill your mouth up with water and then shoot it out, like a fountain? Yeah, I did that.
I pulled on an old pair of sweat pants and an over-sized shirt. My hair was still wet, but I was happy. I didn't have anybody to impress. I was just going to sleep all day and sit with my mom. I couldn't tell her what I did – what had happened, or who with. Imagine her fucking reaction. She still remembered when her tried to fuck up Gotham. What would she do with me?
What-fucking-ever, she would never know. I would take it my goddamn grave. After all of this, maybe one day when I'm old and married and boring I might even laugh at all of this shit. The weird stuff that people get into. Maybe I'd write a book or something and get a movie deal. I bet, if they made a movie, they would make me and Crane fuckbuddies or something.
- us, us, us -
Shut up.
My legs were uneasy on my way downstairs. They were too heavy or I was too dizzy or something, I don't know. I held onto the rail with one hand and let my fingers trail against the wall with the other. It smelt like coffee – Mom knew, she just knew. The thought made me smile.
I had been such a shit person to her, such a shit person to everybody. What the fuck had happened to me? But she would forgive me, because she's my mom, and we would drink coffee and laugh like old times and –
When I saw him I tripped down the stairs, barely saving myself by clutching onto the banister. And boy, did I grab that thing. I wrapped my arms around it, fucking hid behind it. But I couldn't hide.
Because he was in my fucking house.
"Ah, Miss Hale!" he greeted. He sat opposite to my mother at the kitchen table, cup of coffee in hand and a shitty smile on his face. He had done his hair. He had shaved. He had actually put on a suit without any rips or tears.
I threw a hand over my mouth and tried to muffle a sob.
He fucking smiled wider. "It's good to see that you're well," he said. "You hadn't come to Group in a while and, well, we all assumed the worst."
"Group?" I managed to spit out. "What?"
"Honey," my mom crooned. "Mister Rippner here was just tell me about the Youth Group place you've been attending." She gave me a concerned look. "Sweetheart, why didn't you just tell me?"
"Youth group?"
"Katie, of course you remember Group?" Crane asked, voice smooth as butter. My mom's concerned look flashed from me to him. He bit his lip. "I feared this might have happened," he told her.
"What might have happened?" she asked him. There was hysteria and ferocity in her voice.
He sighed. "This is how we found her. It's this… I don't know, really, some new drug. Really popular with the kids these days. Dangerous, from what I've seen. We found her wandering the streets like this. We've found a couple in the same situation. Since the group that I run already offers a safe place for disadvantaged and drug-addicted teenagers, I decided that it was my duty to help them. She's been a regular visitor, and she really is a sweet girl. She hadn't shown up for the past few days and well, we all feared the worst."
He chewed on his lower lip and shot me a very sympathetic look. "Then I found her last night. She must have fallen back in. It's a very easy thing to do, but it is sad to see. I followed her back here. I was worried that it might have been a boyfriend's place – you know, I'm afraid, a pimp situation?" My mother took a second to lower her head into her hands. I wanted to scream. He reached out hand and grabbed one of hers. "I was very happy to find that it was your lovely home."
My mom broke into a round of sobbing. "Katie," she managed to get out. I wanted to sob too.
"Oh, Mrs. Hale," Crane whispered. He sounded gentle. I wanted to kill myself. "You mustn't blame yourself. It is no one's fault. The world of crime is so very easy to fall into, especially in these dark days."
"Mom!" I screamed at her. Was she really fucking buying this shit what the fuck. I wanted to scream everything, but I couldn't. It would expose me. I couldn't do that. I couldn't. I just…
I shouldn't have screamed. It made my mom cry harder. That made me cry harder. Crane leaned in closer to her. "Get away!" I yelled at him. I was shaking. My hands were balled into fists.
He slid an arm around her. "Mrs. Hale, do I have your permission to take your daughter to Group? She needs to detox from her high and we have all of the best tools. She will be back before nightfall, you have my word."
My mother nodded. Crane smiled so wide that I thought his fucking face was going to split in goddam fucking half.
He moved fast. He was up, he had my coat and he ushered me out. I shrunk away from his touch. I shrunk away from him. "She will be safe with me," he promised. I didn't let him get near me, but in a matter of seconds we found ourselves outside.
I screamed at him, screamed like a fucking crazy person. He steeled himself, grabbed me with strong hands that I couldn't disagree with and forced me to walk with him.
"Why are you doing this?" I sobbed.
"Katie, you really didn't think that I could let you get away, now? We're famous, you and I."
I was gasping for air. "I don't need your help," I asserted.
"No," he whispered. "But you do need me."
eh eh nothing i can say