The next morning
My eyes opened to the morning light coming through the windows, it took me a minute for my eyes to adjust. It was a relief that I wasn't waking to a nightmare this time. The previous night's events were fresh in my mind as I got up from the bed and went to the restroom to shower and get dressed. As I dried my hair, I looked in the mirror and saw my face, though it didn't strike much familiarity for me. I had seen it before in reflections since Indian Hill, but now I took an extra moment to examine it more closely. My eyes were auburn, and I had a wide and unremarkable face framed by mousy brown hair that reached just below my shoulders. I then noticed a scar on my cheek, reaching from the corner of my eye to my ear lobe. As my finger touched it, my mind flashed several images in quick succession.
First, I was screaming while kneeling on the ground. Blood was on my hand after removing it from the side of my face. A man was yelling at me, saying, "Look what you made me do! God woman! You're such a stupid bitch!" I was crying and my vision was blurred and I tried to find a towel to hold to my face to stop the bleeding as the man stormed away from me. Next, I saw a policeman leading that same man into a courtroom in handcuffs. He looked at me with a venomous glare, reminding me of a viper ready to strike. But I was in a chair across the room from him and felt a strength and determination that was ignited with that glare. We were in a courtroom and I was testifying against him, describing the abuse that I had endured at his hands. The memory then faded as I saw him stand enraged despite the policeman's effort to keep him under control. Finally, I saw myself exiting a train with a flood of people forcing themselves through a large crowd.
A couple more books in my mental library were now gaining content in the form of a previous abusive relationship. Though I was glad that I was remembering, it wasn't a pleasant addition to the library. However, this made me wonder if that was the source of my apprehension the night before regarding Oswald's behavior. Maybe my instincts were reignited from the previous relationship with another man. That would explain my fear, though his behavior on the lawn was strange and caused me to be curious on what exactly he was doing. This thought occupied me as I looked through the closet to find my clothes for the day.
A little while later, I descended the stairs to find some breakfast. I walked back into the dining room and was surprised to see the large man from the day before. "Ah, Ms. James. Morning!" I waved at him in acknowledgment and he continued, "Still not talkin' huh?" I shook my head, "That's a shame…" He then placed his right hand in his suit pocket and sighed. In the corner of my eye, I noticed that his other hand was stiff and was covered in a glove. He must have seen my curious look as he followed the line of sight to his hand. "Oh…you wondering about this?" He held it up and took off the glove. What was underneath was a metal casting of a hand, permanently frozen with the fingers fused together and the thumb rested against them. I couldn't stop my feet from moving closer to it and reaching out for the metal appendage. He gave a humored huff when my fingers touched the cold, smooth surface. "I betcha curious on how I came to get this…well…" "Butch!" Oswald's sharp voice pierced the air in a forced casual manner. "You're early!" he said in an annoyed tone as he limped forward with his cane. "Yeah," Butch said as he put the glove back on, "Ms. J and I were just catching up…weren't we?" he said as he looked back at me.
I nodded to not only confirm the truth of the statement, but to try to defuse the obviously tense moment. Silence followed as Oswald looked at Butch and me in a suspicious manner before asking, "You weren't telling her stories, were you?" "Nah…" Butch said as he waved the question away using his good hand. "Good…" he said with a look of warning in his eye. "Good morning, Felicity! I thought you were going to sleep the day away!" When he addressed me, his face lit up and he came closer to me to take my hand. I wasn't sure how to respond, so I just smiled back at him. He moved his hand up to my elbow and gently pulled me toward the dining table and into one of the chairs. "I bet you haven't eaten yet, have you? I'll ask Olga to make you something before you go shopping. Unfortunately, I have some business that can't be avoided so you'll have to go without me. But, don't worry, I'll send you with Madeline from the club; she should be here in an hour and then you can go have fun." Something in me told me that shopping would be anything but fun...
A few hours later
Madeline was certainly a talker. I could count on one hand the amount of times that she took a breath during the trip. Before we left the manor, Oswald gave us instructions that any purchase would be put on his tab. And he expressly said, "Don't worry about the cost, Felicity. I mean it." He said this with a playful voice while putting on a stern face. This told me that I must hate to spend money, so to keep up appearances, I should spend as little as possible. So, anywhere that had larger price tags, I avoided picking up anything. Finally, Madeline gave up on trying to convince me herself, so she would go to the store clerk and they would find arms full of clothes for me to try on. When she mentioned Oswald's name, every store clerk would assure us that they would have any selection that we made delivered to the Van Dahl manor. This made Madeline practically giddy since we wouldn't be forced to carry the bags ourselves. I assumed that she was allowed to get some items as payment for taking me shopping, since she had some selections of her own.
We finally returned to the manor via a car employed by Oswald. I waved at Madeline as the car dropped me off and I was allowed inside by Olga. The house was mostly quiet, except for Oswald's voice in a distant room. It sounded like he was on the phone and that he was losing patience with whoever was on the other end of the line. "No...no, I told you! Fish Mooney is alive and you need to find her! I've already told you... fine..." I then heard a frustrated growl and what sounded like a fist hitting a table. "Imbeciles! I'm telling you Butch, they will regret the day that they ignored my warning!" Olga tapped my shoulder and used her eyes to direct me upstairs. Though the expression was simple and her face didn't show any softening, I took her direction without hesitation. I finally reached the room to find the fireplace ablaze, causing orange light to dance around the walls.
My exhaustion finally caught up with me, causing me to collapse on one of the chairs facing the fireplace. I relaxed and watched the flames for a few minutes, allowing my thoughts to manifest. There's no way that I can see a doctor. They'll probably figure out that I'm not a normal person, and then what can I do? I have to get my memory back, or at least find a way to remember my voice. If I could just hear it, that would be enough... But how? After a few minutes of wracking my brain, suddenly inspiration hit me. If Dr. Strange was the one that experimented on my voice, maybe he has a recording of my voice from before the surgery? He would need a point of comparison, won't he? At the very least he may have had some files on me that I can look at...I would rather not go back to Indian Hill, but I'll have to if I'm going to regain my identity. But how can I get there? Just then, I heard a knock on the door and Oswald's figure was standing in the doorway, his feet pointed outwards and his face holding a smile.
"Welcome back!" he said with a light tone, "How was it? Did you girls have a good time?" He limped into the room and I straightened up in my seat, nodding. "Good! I can't wait to see you in your new clothes! We'll get rid of the old clothes in the closet... Oh! Don't worry, I'll see that they're donated to that store that benefits the homeless...See..." he then took my hand, "I remember how much it means to you..." The homeless? Before my mind could dwell on this, he continued, "So, I'm going to have to go out. I have a friend that I need to visit at Arkham, but I won't..." I squeezed his hand and sat straighter with excitement. What are the odds? He looked at me with a bewildered look, "Why are you? Do you want to come with me?" I nodded enthusiastically and he gave me a concerned face. "I don't know...Arkham isn't exactly a pleasant place to go. I would know..." His last statement was under his breath and his glance lowered in reflection. After a moment, he lifted his head again and continued, "No, I would rather you stay here and wait for me. I promise you that it's better this way." With that decision, he tapped the back of my hand and left me in a cloud of disappointment and annoyance.
