You awoke to Leslie sticking a thermometer in your mouth, checking your temperature and any other wounds you may have had. Groggily, you blinked your eyes, trying to adjust to your surroundings and the blinding light that occupied the room.

You noticed Jim was doing the same, but once he got close to your stomach, immediately you pushed him away, not too forcefully but enough to move his hand away.

"Are you okay?" Leslie asked, pulling out the thermometer and placing her hand on your forehead to feel your temperature. "Oh my god, you're burning up."

"I'm fine," you answered groggily, weakly pushing her hand away, feeling like a shit ton of bricks fell on your head.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do, young lady," Jim started in a stern voice. "What the hell were you doing at the gala tonight? I want an explanation. Now."

"I'm sorry! I-I was sick of being stuck at home all the time!" you cried out in your defense, feeling frustrated.

"I told you that you couldn't go," Leslie scolded in a motherly tone, her lips pressed together. "You deliberately disobeyed us!"

"That was for your own good," Jim reprimanded. "We gave you a direct order, and you thought you knew better."

"We are trying to protect you sweetie," Leslie started, her features marred with concern.

"Why are you making things so difficult?" Jim said, raising his voice. "And what was with that disguise? What was that all about? You thought you could get away with it?"

You bit your lower lip hard, almost hard enough to break the delicate skin. You didn't know what to say.

"Jerome could have hurt you!" Jim continued, looking as though he was ready to start pulling the hair out of his head. "What is wrong with you? We both told you to stay put!"

"No place in Gotham is safe! What am I supposed to do? Just hide out at home for the rest of my life? That's no way to live!" you challenged your father, even though you knew it was probably best to keep your mouth shut, but frankly you were tired of him yelling at you. "Last I recall, this is the very place he played his sick games in!"

Jim shook his head, his hands on his hips, looking like a disappointed father who was at his wits end.

Leslie sighed, her arms crossed over her chest. "She's got a point. I've been telling you Jim, I think we should move. This place is not safe.

"And go where exactly? And just allow this place to be a shitshow? Run away from our problems? Where is that gonna get us exactly? I am not going to let these monsters rule the city. That means they've won, and I will make damn sure that doesn't happen," Jim argued.

"Well frankly I think it's something we should consider. You can't save them all Jim," Leslie explained, her brows furrowing, a frown on her face. "You have a family, you need to put us first."

"Lee, we can't just up and leave. I have a duty here. You do too," Jim shot back.

"I know, but this place is clearly not safe and never will be, so what's the point of sinking with it?" Leslie demanded, her tone fierce.

"That's a discussion for another time. I think we need to talk about what just happened and reflect on what our daughter has been up to," Jim started, changing the subject.

"What do you purpose we do? Ground her? We already did that! Take away her phone? She needs to be able to contact us!" Leslie said, firing back.

"I don't know, but we need to talk about it and figure it out," Jim replied, looking like he was at a loss himself.

Your head was still pounding and aching. You didn't want to sit around and listen to them argue. You felt hopeless and helpless. They were right, and deep down you knew it. You should not have gone to the gala.

"Where did you even get that costume? Is that what you've been doing to sneak around? Playing a character and acting like somebody else?" Jim questioned, staring you down with a hard glare.

You shook your head and swallowed a thick gulp. "T-That was the first time I've done something like that. I-I'm sorry," you told him, feeling a lump form in your throat.

"You shouldn't have been out tonight. I told you no earlier and you decided to go anyway," Leslie agreed with Jim.

"I know," you whispered. "I shouldn't have. It was dumb. I'm just glad you two are okay."

"We're glad you are too, but next time, you have to listen to us," Leslie said sternly while Jim shook his head while looking down, not even facing you.

"Okay," you answered quietly. "Can I please go to sleep now? My head is killing me," you asked, looking over at Leslie.

"Yes, you may," Leslie told you, her arms crossed over her chest but she didn't look nearly as foreboding as Jim. "Go get some sleep. We'll see you in the morning."

You nodded at both of them and made your way out of the living room as quickly as possible. Though, on your way to your room you heard them talking once more, resuming their conversation. You stood in the hallway and decided to listen.

"I don't know what's wrong with her. Why won't she listen to us?" Jim asked aloud, sounding rather frustrated.

"We can't chain her down, but I don't know what to do anymore. This city is not safe for her," Leslie said in a whisper.

"That girl is flirting with disaster. She wasn't like this before," Jim sighed, a deep frown on his face.

"Where did she get that costume to begin with? Is that what she's been doing to sneak out?" Leslie asked.

"I don't know. She thought we wouldn't notice," Jim said in answer. "You don't think she's trying to contact Jerome, do you?"

"No! She hates him! Especially after what he did," Leslie whispered loudly.

"Well I don't even know what to think. Jerome insisted that there was something between them, but I don't know what to believe," Jim began.

"There was nothing between them. He kidnapped her. He lied about all of that, he was trying to stir the pot, nothing more," Leslie assured.

"I just don't know what to do anymore," Jim replied, sounding like he had reached his limit. "Maybe we should let her stay with your grandparents for a while."

"Yeah, I don't know if she'll be too happy about that though. She might feel like we are sending her away," Leslie replied.

"Doesn't matter. It's about her safety, and I don't want her getting into any more trouble," Jim shot back.

"Okay, okay, got it. I'll talk to them," Leslie agreed. "We're gonna have to talk about it sooner or later, though."

"I know," Jim said.

You frowned as you listened. Did they want to get rid of you? Had you become too much trouble for them? Did they want to ship you off with your grandparents until they figured what to do with you? You were scared. You wanted to stay here, with them.

You walked quickly back to your room and shut the door behind you. You grabbed a bag and started stuffing your essentials in it like your wallet, phone, and some clothes. You sighed deeply to yourself. You felt like they didn't want you anymore so what was the point of staying? This was your home, but somehow you didn't feel like you belonged here anymore.

You grabbed a necklace that was sitting on your nightstand. It was a necklace that Leslie had given you, it had a sterling silver heart pendant on it. You clipped it around your neck and rolled the pendant between your fingers pensively. You didn't want to leave without it.

Your eyes started watering, clouding your vision and hot tears streamed down your face. You quickly wiped them away and sniffed, blinking back the rest of your tears. You had to be strong. You could find some place to stay the night. It was going to be okay. You just didn't want to be a burden to your parents anymore. Lately, it felt as though you were just troubling them with your many issues.

You plopped down on your bed and took a deep breath, trying to collect yourself. Breathe in. Breathe out. Your chest was squeezing from the inside out and making it difficult to exhale. You were trying not to fall apart. You didn't want to have to put yourself back together again.

You held your face in your hands as you allowed a heavy sob to break through your lips, your shoulders shaking as though the weight of the world had been resting on them. Your tears ran freely down your cheeks, face crumbling up, the mask could finally be removed to reveal the broken girl underneath.

You waited until it was past midnight and you were sure your parents were asleep. You didn't want them to hear you leave through the backdoor, then they would know what you were up to. You left the house, bag in hand, out the door.

The dark sky blanketed above you and the streets were quiet, but it was illuminated by the street lights shining down upon you. You stayed on the sidewalk, knowing how dangerous it was to be out this late at night, especially in a city like Gotham, but you didn't care. You just wanted to get away.

You didn't know where you were headed but you were sure you would find something along the way. With your head held high, you kept going, walking at a reasonable pace and looking over your shoulder on occasion. Still, it was quiet. There were occasional cars passing on the road, the tires on the pavement echoing and reminding you that the city was still alive.

As you were making your way across the street, your stomach started grumbling all of a sudden. You figured you should probably get something to eat. You didn't bring any food in your bag so it would be wise to look for something around the area.

You crossed another street to get to the corner store at the edge of town. You entered the store, the chime of a bell ringing when you stepped inside. There was a middle-aged man standing at the register with a lifeless expression on his face, his hand planted on his cheek as he leaned over the counter without even sparing you a glance.

You looked about all the goods stacked on the shelves and the drinks sitting in the fridge. You grabbed some packaged snacks like donuts, cookies, potato chips, and a Coca-Cola. You placed your items on the counter and again, the cashier didn't make eye contact with you, or greet you. He bagged your stuff and handed it to you, you thanked him before you walked out of the corner store.

You made your way across the street once again, looking up at the buildings that surrounded you as you delved deeper into the city. There were not many places that were open, so there wasn't much to do other than eat or wander. You were going to need a place to sleep tonight.

With a sigh, you searched for a motel,unwrapping your donut and nibbling on it. The only sound around you was the echo of your footsteps on the pavement and the whispering of the gentle winds that breezed against your skin.

There wasn't a soul in sight, save for the homeless man rummaging the trash can outside a fast food joint, and he was much too busy to bother you. You started looking over your shoulder less because you didn't think you had anything to worry about, surely you would be able to find a motel and get there safely without any disturbances. You were still walking quickly, at a reasonable pace, and finally you found a safe place to land, or somewhat 'safe'. The building of the motel looked dingy and the neon sign attached to it was flashing rapidly, the outside of it didn't appear to be the cleanest if you were being honest. But it would have to do.

You took a step forward, only having to cross the street to reach your destination. You were minding your own business, hoping to get away for a while, and grateful that you would have a place to rest your head. You slipped your hand into your pocket, ready to count the money you had and see if it was enough when you read the sign outside for how much it would be to stay the night.

But then before you knew it, something awful happened.

Your breath got lost in your throat and suddenly a strong hand snatched your own from behind, fingers gripping and digging into your wrist mercilessly, another arm locked under your throat. You tried to breathe in and instinctively made a move to run away but that was when you felt a body press against you, their hold on you only becoming more unforgiving when you resisted.

"Not so fast, sweetheart," a deep and hoarse voice said behind you against your ear.

"Let go of me, you motherfucker!" you cursed at him, still trying to fight him off with your elbows and kicking him but it was fruitless.

His grip on you only tightened and he practically hauled you into a nearby alleyway, shoving you against the hard wall. When the wall met your back, a yelp tore from your throat, and the next thing you knew there was a blade against your skin, a knife under your chin.

Your eyes locked onto your captor, coming face to face with him. It was a man. He appeared to be in his late 20s to early 30s but you had trouble figuring it out because those hard drugs and alcohol were certainly not kind to him. You could smell the strong scent of rum on his tongue, his breath against your skin which made you cringe involuntarily. He had a dark brown beard that matched his hair under his grey beanie and his face was filthy, with marks and spots indicating that he hasn't showered any time within the last few weeks or so. He was missing some teeth and his lips were chapped and cracking. His deep blue eyes were staring you down and a shiver ran down your spine.

"W-What the fuck do you want?" you spat.

"Give me your necklace. I know that must be worth a pretty penny," the man rasped out, his gaze focused on your neck now.

You huffed and glared at him, your teeth gritted. You didn't say anything. Your blood was boiling in your veins and you wanted nothing more than to grab that blade and jab it in his neck. You hated being so vulnerable, so powerless, it made you literally feel sick that this lowlife had the upper hand. You were not going to beg for your life or plead for him not to hurt you. No, you would not give him the satisfaction.

"Are you deaf or just stupid? I said give me the necklace! Give me the necklace or I'll cut your pretty little throat open," he threatened, pressing the side of the knife closer to your skin, close enough to nick it.

You reached behind your neck with trembling fingers and unhooked your necklace, a heavy breath escaping you. You handed him the necklace and he smirked but he had a look in his eye that implied he wasn't content with just that. No, he was a greedy scumbag that wanted to take and take.

"Give me all your money, too! I know you got something on ya darling," he taunted, reaching his hand out and maneuvering his fingers around your waist until he found where your back pocket was.

You pushed his hand away because you didn't want his grimy fingers touching you and pulled out your wallet, taking out the five twenty dollar bills you had in it. You snarled at him, and if looks could kill, he would have suffered a very painful, excruciating death.

The lowlife smirked, clicking his tongue and snatching the money away from you in an instant. He stuffed it in his own pocket and then began to look you over, contemplating what else you had to offer.

"I want your coat too, looks expensive, your parents rich or something?" he asked, the blade still at your throat.

You scoffed, your eyes pinning him down with a cold stare. You were tired of giving to him. You wanted nothing more than to slap him, kick him in the balls, and then snatch that knife away so you had the upper hand.

"I said give it to me!" he repeated, his rough voice echoing off the walls.

You snarled at him, cringing involuntarily upon being so close to him.

But that was when you heard footsteps approaching the alleyway, And then making its way across the cement, the gravel crunching under their feet.

"Now that's no way to talk to a lady," said a mocking yet playful voice all of a sudden, that sounded all too familiar.

You snapped your head around to see who it was but you couldn't make out their figure in the shrouded darkness.

The lowlife turned around too, looking alarmed and his whole body tensed.

"Who's there?" he asked, bewildered.

"Where are your manners? Say you're sorry to the poor rattled doll," said the voice, a laugh pouring from his mouth. As the figure continued to make its way towards you and your assailant, you recognized that auburn hair coming into the light.

It was Jerome.

He walked close enough that the street lights reflected upon his face.

Your heart felt like it stopped for a long moment. What was he doing here?

You noticed that he was limping and also that he was clutching onto his shoulder. He looked hurt; injured. You couldn't help but wonder what happened.

"Do you know this fucking creep? Did you send him over here?!" he accused, pressing the side of the blade closer against your neck, threatening to slice it open.

"No I didn't!" you shouted with a fiery glare.

"You're always getting yourself into trouble, aren't you dollface?" Jerome chuckled darkly, finding your predicament to be amusing. "I guess you could call me your knight in shining armor, here to save the damsel in distress."

You scoffed in annoyance at that.

"Hurry up and give me your coat, bitch!" the lowlife screamed at you, sparing a glance at Jerome, seemingly feeling the need to keep an eye on him. "No funny business ginger!" he barked.

Jerome raised one hand up in his defense.

"I would raise the other but there's been some technical difficulties," Jerome said, a laugh bursting from his lips and resounding in the alleyway. He was still gripping onto shoulder and it looked like there was a pad under his sleeve of his black coat.

"Do you think you're fucking funny, clown?!" the man shouted, waving his knife at Jerome, now.

Jerome acted as if he was contemplating it for a moment. "Yeah, I can be a bit of a jokester. I wouldn't mind sharing the spotlight with someone else if they didn't have a pea for a brain," Jerome mocked, smirking wide.

"You son of a bitch! I'll kill her! I'll do it!" the lowlife yanked you over so you were in front of Jerome and he was behind you, knife tucked under your chin, threatening you. You lifted your chin up defiantly, wishing you could kick him but if you knew if you dared even to move the wrong way he would slice your neck open.

Jerome cracked up, practically slapping his knee in amusement.

"Oh that's a good one! Looks like the chemistry can't be denied, dollface, even he can see it," Jerome chuckled like it was the funniest thing.

"I'm serious! I'll make her suffer!" the lowlife shouted.

"Ooh, I'd be careful if I were you, see this one's a cop killer," Jerome started, pointing at you with a shit-eating grin. "Yeah, doesn't look like it but she gets the job done. She killed about a dozen cops. She's not afraid to get blood on her hands."

"Shut the fuck up Jerome!" you spat, glaring at him sharply.

Jerome started walking towards you two, almost like he was taking a stride. The lowlife eyed him closely, his body tensing, unsure of what his next move would be and then Jerome kicked the lowlife in the knee with his shoe. The man fell to the ground and yelped, his knife dropping and making a clanking sound when it hit the cement.

You were quick to reach out and snatch the knife before he was able to pick it up. Jerome encircled around his curled up body, snickering and smirking with a sadistic amusement plastered on his face.

The lowlife stood up after a beat, once he recovered from the harsh impact of the ground. He attempted to crowd over you like a predator but you immediately stepped back with the knife pointed out towards him.

"Stay back asshole!" you swore in a biting tone.

"We make a good team, don't we doll?" Jerome noted with a wink.

"Shut the fuck up," you spat bitterly, sparing him a glance only to shoot daggers at him.

"You should kill him. Cut him up. Make it hurt. Real bad. You know you want to," Jerome said, encouraging you to kill him.

"Stop! I don't want to hear another word from you!" you barked at Jerome, gritting your teeth.

The lowlife made another move in an attempt to seize the knife from your hands but you weren't going to fall for any of his tricks and you simply moved out of the way before you kicked him in the groin.

"You bitch!" he yelled out sharply, groaning in pain as his hands covered his groin. "You're going to fucking pay for that!"

"Kill him. What are you waiting for? The snot rag is literally asking for it. I want to see his blood splatter on the floor," Jerome continued, grabbing him by both of his arms, locking them in place from behind his back, and gripping them tightly with one hand so he was partially immobilized.

"Jerome, get the hell out of here," you snarled, a fire burning in your eyes and in your blood.

"Come on. He humiliated you, made you feel weak and vulnerable, stole from you, thought he could manipulate you like a marionette. A slow, long painful death is awaiting this piece of shit," Jerome added, a sadistic smile playing on his lips.

"She doesn't have the guts! She's too weak," the lowlife said, belittling you and making you feel less than.

"Don't underestimate me, you piece of shit," you hissed, giving him a cruel glower.

"Careful now. Again, she's a cop killer," Jerome mocked, snickering to himself. "She's capable of a lot more than you might think."

"Would you please shut up Jerome?!" you snapped, getting sick and tired of hearing their voices. Personally, you wanted to get rid of them both.

"You're just a scared little girl. A scared, hopeless little girl that still depends on Mommy and Daddy to fix all her problems," the lowlife continued. Your arm grew taut as your grip tightened around the handle of the knife.

"I'm not a little girl anymore!" you shouted in a hoarse voice.

"Why are you still letting him talk? I want to see him in a pool of red, trying to choke out his last words as the life drains from his eyes," Jerome told you in a raspy tone.

"I don't want to kill anybody!" you screamed, shooting Jerome a look of disgust.

"Do it! Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get it over with!" Jerome barked at you, his hand gripping on the man's wrists. "This one is a kicker!" Jerome started cracking up all of a sudden, finding the man's plight to be amusing.

"She's a stupid, naive little girl! She can't do it. She doesn't have what it takes and she knows it," the lowlife taunted, a devious smirk on his lips. He tried to launch forward and reach for your purse but you took an abrupt step back.

"Teach him a lesson, dollface! I would do it myself but I'm a little gun shy considering my arm being shot and whatnot, so I figure you should do the deed," Jerome told you, keeping him hauled up by his arms.

"I don't—I don't want to," you said, closing your eyes shut momentarily and wanting their voices to both shut the hell up. "I can't."

"Yes you can! Believe in yourself!" Jerome said in a sing-song voice. "Don't be such a scaredy cat!" he rasped out, his tone changing in the blink of an eye.

"Weak little bitch! Ha! You're pathetic. You can't even fend for your own damn self," he continued to mock you, and once again he lunged his body forward, taking a predatory stance towards you. He charged at you, reaching behind his back pocket where he was hiding a pocket knife inside.

And that was what did it.

You did what you feared you would have to.

You couldn't believe it.

You couldn't believe what you had done.

It was like an out of body experience, and you felt as though you weren't even in control of yourself, like there was an unstoppable force that made you do this, that possessed you in that moment.

You plunged the blade into the lowlife's chest. And the second you did, it felt like time had just stopped, like you were standing still.

Your hands were gripping onto the handle of the knife for dear life when you delved the blade in further and twisted.

The man gasped sharply and then a series of violet shudders and coughs overtook his body. He was choking on his own blood as it overflowed from his mouth.

Your eyes widened in shock, your mouth agape and a silent gasp of your own escaped your lips.

"Finally!" Jerome roared with laughter. "I thought I was going to die of boredom!" he sighed in what sounded like relief.

"No, no, no, no, no, no," you repeated again and again to yourself as the man's blood coated your hands and he fell to the ground, drowning in a pool of spreading crimson.

"Calm down doll, you know that was what you wanted," Jerome said, laughing at the man's body and stepping around it, letting the blood taint his shoes. "Now I can bear to look at him," he added, staring at his body as the life drained from his eyes. "Oh yeah, he's a goner."

"That wasn't supposed to happen!" you cried out in frustration. "I wasn't supposed to. H-He wouldn't stop. H-He-"

"Slow down and take a breather dollface," Jerome instructed with a smirk. "Breathe in, breathe out," he continued, breathing in and out with you. "Just like that."

"Stop! Fucking stop!" you screamed at him, disgusted that he thought this was a cruel joke. "I-I just killed somebody."

"Oh don't act like you didn't like it, like you haven't done this before," Jerome said with a dark chuckle. "You've killed ten, so why not add another and make it eleven? Your body count is growing, you should pat yourself on the back I'd say! Be proud!"

"You... How could you? This is not a fucking joke!" you shouted, your voice trembling.

"I'd say you did a swell job, messy, very messy actually but I like it. I like your style," Jerome noted, talking another long glance at the guy's dead body.

"I-I... This is bad. This is really really really bad," you choked out, a lump forming in your throat. It was worse than a train-wreck, and Jerome was happy to watch the show.

You just killed someone, with your own bare hands. Your blood stained hands were shaking rapidly, and you were weak in the knees, feeling like your legs would fail you and you would collapse to the ground. The smell of iron and copper assaulting your nostrils, making you feel sick.

Jerome cracked up in the quiet alleyway, the sound piercing your ears and you felt a shiver run down your spine. You were filled with complete and utter dread.

"We have to bury him, now," Jerome said with a deadpan expression before adding in a sing-song voice, "Time's a-wastin'!"