If you couldn't tell already- I love smart ass, bold female characters (kind of like myself, but I am not as open about it). I cannot and I mean cannot stand the mousy little Bella Swan type characters. So, here's to chapter 3 and not editing it. ;) Haha. -D
I lay in my bed, feeling completely and utterly relaxed. It had been a long day and Venus had made it even longer. I stretched out and sighed, letting the heaviness leave my body. I tried to recount my events, doing my normal rounds, meeting Jada, meeting Bruce, and my tiff with Venus. She was pretty pissed at me when she left, not that I could blame her. I pissed her off often so her leaving angry didn't put me out of anything. I snuggled against my cold pillow, not even having to attempt to shut my brain off.
The girl was shaking with fear, cowering against the wooden cabinets in a disaster of a kitchen. Her face was swollen, soaked with tears. She grasped the door, trying to pull it open. She wanted to get away from him – he was coming. His footsteps shook the floor below her. He was coming. He was on his way to get her. It was dark, but she knew he was near. She could smell the alcohol. "I can hear you breathing," he growled as she scrambled into the cabinet quietly. Her knees crammed into her chest. She tried to steady her breathing, she breathed in and out, trying to make as little noise as possible. "Holly," he sang, lightly. "Come out, Holly." He was angry. Angry that she had existed. He never wanted he and he made sure to tell her often. He stomped his foot on the floor, she flinched and sauntered against the inside of the cabinet, wishing to disappear into it. "You little cunt," he spat, "I'm going to find you." The cabinet doors were flung open one by one, until he reached hers. She yelped in fear as the door opened, a soft glow of light pouring in. "Aren't you supposed to come when your Daddy yells for you?" he screeched, pulling her out of the cabinet by her hair. She screamed, digging at his hands as he threw her against the refrigerator. Her body fell into a heap against it. "You never should have been born. I don't fucking want you!" His hand hit her hard across the face…
"Son of a mother fucking bitch," I cursed, my body jerking upright. My t-shirt was soaked in a cold sweat. I wiped my forehead off on the back of my hand and blinked, staring at the darkness around me. I pulled the chain on the lamp beside my bed, my heart beating my chest. I pulled the 45 out from my bedside table and held it. Not again. I wanted to cry and whimper. I wanted to scream out as loud as I could. I held the gun steadily in my hand and threw the sheet and comforter off of my legs. Out of routine, I walked my apartment, holding the gun out before me. "He's dead," I stated out loud. "He's fucking dead. You watched him get lowered into a coffin, you watched them pour dirt it until the last bit was placed on top of that heap of shit." My nerves relaxed a bit, but not enough for me to stop checking my locks. I shook with a blinding fear that I hadn't felt in ages. He's dead. It's alright. "It's alright," I soothed myself, sitting down on the couch, putting the gun down on my ottoman and my hands on my face. The tears came in sudden, short bursts. I breathed in and out heavily.
I wanted a cigarette or a drink, but avoided both. I tried to avoid the things that reminded me of my father as much as possible. He just so happened to do both, heavily. I wanted to place as much distance in between us that I could, in every way. My father was a very outgoing and outrageous man. He had thousands of friends, who someone seemed oblivious to the actual raging lunatic he really was. No one ever knew about the torture he inflicted on me. No one. No one really knew until that day… That day that I tried so hard to forget about. It was the one day that I wished I could erase from my life forever. It changed me in so many ways that I never thought I would break out of it. Even my normal self was concerned with how much I detached myself from the world. I was broken for almost two straight years, hardly speaking to anyone, never doing anything outside of read up on Anatomy and study for my classes.
I rubbed my arms with my hands quickly, rising up from the couch. I grabbed the gun and returned to my bed, leaving the gun out on my actual nightstand with the light on. His face grinned at me when I shut my eyes. I cursed and mumbled, turning onto my side, staring at the blank wall. I wish he would leave my head and never come back. I wish I could just be normal. I felt hot tears roll down my cheeks again.
I woke up feeling like death warmed over. My alarm gaily sang out the time. I refrained from throwing it against the wall and turned it off. It was already ten in the morning. I couldn't lie there anymore. I just couldn't. With a groan I sat up and rubbed my face, eyeballing the gun on my nightstand. I shoved it back into its drawer and shut the light off. My brain started a mental countdown until 3 in the afternoon. Five hours until doomsday. My cellphone buzzed wildly from my dresser. I did a double take picking it up. 20 text messages?! I unlocked my phone and laughed, each one was from Bruce. I read through them all, smiling at the hilarity of each. He felt the need to update me each time he had completely a request of mine. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, looking out of the window to the streets below. Yep, same old train wreck of a city.
I sat like a brick before the television, drinking my normal cup of coffee, letting my mind race. The news was the same as it always was. "Who is Batman?", "Where does Batman live?", "Jewelry Thieves Strike Again", "Operation: Clean Up Gotham", "Thugs Busted in a Dark Alley"…. Blah, blah, blah. I shut it off and stared at my clock. I had only wasted an hour. Damn it. I showered and brushed my teeth, dressing myself in lime green scrubs and black Birkenstocks. I smiled thinking of Gordon at the hospital and made a decision so great that I was shocked I had thought of it myself. I packed a small duffel bag with two changes of clothes, tennis shoes, and a few novels I hadn't read yet. I was going to need it if I was going to stay in Arkham for a day or two. It was a request of mine considering the staff there barely knew how to tell someone's blood pressure without needing to Google it. And even though Bane was a grade-A, classic, deranged asshole that I hated with every fiber of my being- I couldn't bear to think of his death on my conscience. I didn't want him haunting me even in his death.
I made a quick stop by a donut shop on my way to Gotham Medical, picking up five éclairs for my most favorite patient, Gordon. I sighed loudly before walking through the ruthless hallways of the hospital. I was hated by pretty much everyone, even though no one said it. It was all in the way they spoke to me and my lack of speaking with them. I only spoke with patients, superiors, patient's families, and nurses who worked with my patients. It drove the crowd that gossiped insane and I loved every second of it. I gave a half smile to each person I crossed paths with, my messenger bag flopping on my hip as I carried Gordon's treats.
I could hear Gordon talking from out in the hallway as I approached. I politely knocked on the door frame and waited for permission to enter.
"Yes, come in," Gordon spoke. I smiled like crazy as I rounded the corner, holding up the pink box from the donut shop. "Holly!" he cheered, a delighted expression on his face. A small framed man with short brown hair gave me a closed mouth smile. "I love my doctor," he sang as I placed the box in his lap. And I love my favorite patient. I laughed and sat on the side of his bed, pulling my messenger bag off. I watched Gordon's hands eagerly rip the box open. He made the quietest "mmm" noise as he ate a bite of one. "Jeez, my manners-" he mumbled, patting his face. "Holly, this is Blake."
"Hey Blake."
"Hi," he clipped, only smiling with his eyes.
"He's my new detective- well, new-ish," Gordon explained. "And very single." My eyes popped open at the comment. Jesus, Gordon, how much morphine are you on right now? I peered over at his morphine drip. All normal.
"Jesus, Gordon," Blake choked, having the same reaction that I was. Gordon made a pft noise and waved his hand at the both of us.
"No shame in trying, kid." Boyfriends were never something I maintained very well. There was my lack of intimacy, fucked up past, busy career, and lack of socialness in general that kept people away. None of those things earn you a great standing with boys. I hated that feeling like you had to share your life with someone. They could hurt you, abuse you, lie to you, change you, and you could lose them at any moment, without or without their permission. They could break you so easily. Harvey Dent always came to mind when people mentioned relationships. I saw him wasting away- this horrible look in his eye after his girlfriend died at the Joker's expense. I never wanted to feel that way. I never wanted to have anything to lose. I would live my life as a hermit, a cat lady, or that lonely old bitchy loner that everyone described as- and I would have no shame in doing so. My eyes met Blake's hand and I tried to imagine myself holding his hand. The thought made me convulse. I so don't need this today. I'm might be cutting into someone in a few hours. "What brings you to see this old man, Holly?" he asked, taking a sip of water.
"It's about Bane, sir." I had respect for Gordon that I was never afraid to fess up to. He helped keep Gotham free of all of the shit I hated. He let out a low whistle and ordered Blake to shut the door.
"Bruce finally got around to calling you about that, huh?" I nodded, startled to still find Blake standing there. "It's alright, Blake knows about Bruce, too." I pulled Bane's file out of my messenger bag and sat it in my lap. "My, that's grown significantly," he exclaimed, picking it up.
"I have so many questions, Gordon."
"Don't we all," he breathed, opening the file. "Ask me anything you want, dear, you know I'll answer what I can," he stated with a welcoming smile. Gordon always reminded me so much of the father I dreamed of having compared to the one I had the 'pleasure' of being 'raised' by. I could see myself coming to him with my problems, him washing off my knee after I fell, and teaching me how to ride a bike. Things that most fathers did for their daughters, not the things mine did for me. I'm sure that had Gordon been my father that my life would be the complete opposite of what it was. I'm sure that I'd be married, popping out his grandkids, and living happily without a care in the world. Why couldn't that be my life?
"First off, and pardon my language, but what in the fuck?" I asked, pointing to Bane's history report. Gordon laughed with Blake.
"I don't know," Gordon answered with another laugh. "Strange, huh?"
"Um, very." I leaned over the file and pointed to his affiliations. "What's the League of Shadows?" He straightened his glasses and peered at me, pushing his flopping graying hair back off of his forehead. "And the Suicide Squad?" Blake cleared his throat.
"The League is a trained group of assassins. It's kind of like a cult that was ran by Ra's al Ghul. He was killed by Bruce a long time ago. Bane and Talia, Ra's daughter, were in it before Ra's died. She and Bane both came to Gotham to wipe out the city, because they considered it to be full of deranged minds. The League was supposedly trained and taught to kill anyone who created wrong in this world," Blake answered.
"This is quite the story," I whispered, fitting the story and connections together in my head. Gordon patted my hand and squeezed it.
"Not anything you need to worry about. Why did Bruce give you this file, anyway?" Gordon asked, holding it up. I shrugged. Like I know what the hell that man thinks.
"Maybe he thought there was medical history in it?"
"Was there?"
"Not one bit of shit was in there, except for that lovely sentence talking about when he was spotted wearing it." I stared down at the tiles on the floor. I was about to walk into a surgery blind, with absolutely no idea of what I was going to be in for. What if he has some outstanding medical condition? I was so royally fucked.
"Hey," Gordon whispered. I refocused my attention on him. "You're a smart girl, Holly. There's nothing you can't overcome. I can guarantee that." I found myself smiling at him. He returned the smile and squeezed my hand again.