Someone had told her once that people who suffer from shock have trouble remembering details. She had decided to test this theory in the field as she made her way to the precinct.

Apparently, Gotham's executive power did not seem to suspect her of having done anything wrong. At least the man who had waved for her to sit down in front of his desk didn't seem too interested in anything she could have had to say. In addition, his breath smelled like alcohol while it was barely noon. Yet, it was hard for Sophie to not say anything, so she decided to babble gracelessly.
"I was just so sure that I had locked the door, I have never forgotten to- ", until the police officer interrupted her, "Don't you worry about that, Miss, we actually found out that the doors were locked. Did you notice anything weird last night before you went home?". Sophie pretended to think. "Uhm, no, everything was peaceful and quiet." – "Any conspicuous customers? Or new faces on your way home?" – "No, sorry. I mean, we get a lot of different customers, so it's hard for me to remember them all. I am also quite new, so I still struggle with recognizing the regulars…", Sophie lied shamelessly, blushing only slightly. "I see", the officer answered, "if you can think of anything else, don't hesitate to give me a call". He handed her a card.

Harvey Bullock, she read, Homicide Division. Sophie suppressed a shiver. She just had to ask. "Did anyone get hurt, Detective Bullock?" He looked tired when he answered.

They found four bodies. Did the bald guy kill the other men? Or did one of the four men manage to murder him after his companions died? What kind of business had been going on there? Was this about drugs? Why would anyone take care of their drug business in a coffee house? Sophie was glad that she had gotten off the hook so easily, but she could not stop thinking about last night and the incident before. A part of her felt guilty for being so intrigued by something as gloomy as a murder happening in her life. She should have been terrified and full of pity for the men who had died. She had never known anyone that died before. Maybe she was heartless. Heartless, but most definitely not fearless; her legs felt as wobbly as they had been when she left the café last night. And when a voice addressed her, she jumped.

"Hello, waitress.", Sophie froze, "Relax. I just want to talk. Let's take a walk", he chimed, his voice both cheerful and threatening. The bald man stood next to her and she had no idea where he had come from. After a couple of seconds, she became aware that staring at him might not be the best idea, so she mechanically set one foot in front of the other and started walking.
Sophie focused on breathing out, trying to calm herself down and then made an attempt to grasp her situation and the man walking next to her. She tried to subtly look at him, but was pretty sure that it didn't go by unnoticed. Her few glances had shown her that he wasn't only bald but completely hairless; he had not eyelashes or brows. Furthermore, he was tall and slim, and probably fast, so running wouldn't do her much good. And, most importantly, Sophie felt the colour leave her cheeks when she realized, he was armed.

He led the way until Sophie found herself in a more remote, quieter area of the city. Great, she thought. "Sooo", the man prolonged the vowel as he turned to her, "what's your name, waitress?", he almost hummed. Sophie remained silent as he looked intently into her eyes. As his gaze bore into hers, Sophie felt the fear leaving her bones and anger rising in her stomach. For the first time, she spoke to him. "What do you want to talk about?", she asked with an even voice and stared back into his dark eyes. He started to grin at her. It was rather unnerving, but she refused to let the fear take over. She wanted to remain as much in control as possible.

"What did you tell the GCPD?", he asked, his grin gone so quickly that it was hard to believe it had been there in the first place. "I told them that I hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary during and after my shift" she said with a calm voice and felt a small twinge of pride for not panicking.

"Interesting." His voice suggested that he had never heard anything more boring in his entire life.

He intently examined her face and Sophie made sure to not let her gaze falter. "Alright. If you lied, little waitress, I will find out and we'll see each other again". He sounded as if this prospect was something he would very much look forward to and added an almost cheerful "Later!".

As Sophie watched him turn around, she couldn't stop herself from asking: "Why would you burn your evidence in the café? It makes no sense. Aren't there ways to… dispose of dead bodies that draw less attention?". She bit her tongue as he slowly turned around and chuckled.

"They weren't dead when the fire started", he stated happily before walking away.

It took Sophie some time to start moving after she had watched his silhouette disappear into a side street. The fear and anger she had felt just minutes ago had turned into numbness.

When she had gotten to her flat, she didn't even remember the route she had walked to get there. She had made herself a cup of tea that rested on the kitchen counter where it slowly got cold while she was staring out of the window. At some point, she turned on her computer, opened her least favorite document, and started writing.

How stupid of her not to realize earlier what her story had been missing all along.

Her story had needed a monster.

Author's Note: Ba Dum Tss.