System malfunction || DC

Chapter Seventeen

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She Lives

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It had been a long time since Jocelyn had felt such agony.

She awoke with a wordless cry. Her jaw was tight and taunting, with nasty bruises painted haphazardly in complementing yellow and purple. Her hand ran across the delicate flesh of her neck, tracing scraped fingertips against the areas that hurt. establishing a distinct hand imprint on her throat's delicate curvature.

Her hands trembled, and her ribcage screamed in agony. The likes of which she hadn't felt since her last battle, yet she felt alive. The throbbing pain was a reminder to her that she wasn't dead. She averted death at the hands of her obsessive adversary. That she would be able to live long enough to make amends with those her heart selfishly yearned to hold.

Her fingers and toes automatically curled and uncurled. The stiff joints are given circulation and warmth. She couldn't sit up without tearing the stitches stitched into her torn flesh. It wouldn't take too long for the skin to mend anew. Whoever was responsible for making her body whole again took great care to avoid infection.

The crinkle of the bandages sounds like a stiff sanitary pad.

Jocelyn let her exhausted body sink further into the bed's soothing support. One hand, which had ceased quivering like a leaf in the fall, was resting on her head, pinching the filthy gauze wrapped around her skull.

My hair is missing

Jocelyn observed the clumps of hair thrown over the pillow. She recalls cutting her hair when Korin attempted to drown her again. Her lifeless body angled in the direction of a sharp broken pole, allowing gravity to draw her hair over the improvised blade. Korin was enraged that his grasp on her hair had temporarily freed her, but he was quick to retrieve her body from the watery grave and switch his torture method to knives.

A move that only served to irritate the man and necessitated a trip to the hairdresser.

Maybe Alfred could help me with cleaning up the loose ends until I can make an appointment... oh, that's right, I'm not exactly on friendly terms with Grandpa, am I?

Jocelyn garbled her thoughts and smiled bitterly. She was alone in a pitch-black room, unsure of where she was or what had happened after she passed out. She drew a pitiful image of a damaged doll waiting for its master to return.

What had I seen before succumbing to the darkness? That's right, Bruce Wayne... or is it, BatMan? Did he prefer to go by the latter while he was dressed up? It may be more polite to address him as such.

She remembered looking into his eyes, well, mask holes really. How the shadow of his gaze seemed to pierce her soul and see her true form. A fearful little girl, scared of dying so tragically.

Had he come to get back Dick's bike? Sorry, but it's a little too late for that. He can settle the bill with Korin. I'm sure the rich duke can handle the price of one earth vehicle.

When she snorted at the thought of Korin signing a check for something as foolish as a bike, she let out a painful groan. Dick wouldn't be thrilled with her disregard for the property she was in charge of, but she wasn't exactly free to protect both his bike and her life at the same time.

A doorknob rattled and a yellow glow seeped into the darkness as her tiny wheeze developed into a coughing match with herself. She attempted to be quiet, but all she did was choke on her spit.