ＣＲＥＥＰ! (ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

<➆> 𝗕𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱, 𝗦𝘄𝗲𝗮𝘁 𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗧𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

(pov switch at border - ed's, yours, ed's) 

this is gonna be a long one folks

tw// murder, mentions of physical abuse

E/N = your ex's name

E/S = your ex's surname

Y/N = your name

L/N = your last name

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

I arrive on a high. Still reeling from my encounter with the Batman. The GCPD is cleared out almost entirely, every cop in Gotham is swarming Mitchell's funeral like flies on shit.

I don't expect to get a place of work on record for that hapless bastard who beat Y/N. But I should find just enough information for me to track him down. Maybe a close relative or friend, current address.

I shove my key into the back door, damn near breaking it off in the lock. I haven't got time to spare. As much as Y/N needs me with her, as much as I need to be with her, I have to do this. I don't have a choice in the matter.

I start to shake with excitement. Killing for the good of Gotham is one thing, but killing for Y/N is something beautiful. Better than a thousand perfect dates. It proves that I would take a life for her.

When she realises how much I love her she'll fall harder than an angel from heaven. I search through file after file, looking for any semblance, any shred of evidence that he exists.

I check, then double-check, then check once more. Reading each detail over and over with the utmost carefulness. I nearly cream my pants when I find his file. 

E/N E/S.
Former customer service representative.
Currently unemployed.
Deadman walking.

 ༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

I pace through my apartment, my stomach writhing. My body start to shake at the thought of E/N. My hand touches the place where he hit me subconsciously.  

Waves of nausea rock through my body ruthlessly. Forcing me to my knees, clutching my stomach in agony. I swallow a painful mixture of bile, spit, and stomach acid. 

I don't want to live like this anymore. I can't live like this anymore. I know I'll fall to pieces if I keep going but a part of me finds solace in E/N. I know that no matter what I'll always have him lurking in the distance.

It's the one thing that I can rely on. A constant factor, forever constant. I have Ed now but I can't shake the feeling that something terrible is going to happen to me. 

Granted I don't stay in Gotham because of the safe and welcoming neighbourhood. It's not just some general skittishness. It's a deep gut feeling that I am in danger.

I've only felt this way once before. I had a moment of weakness and picked up the phone. I got halfway through dialing the police before he caught me. He beat me twice as hard that night.

I didn't leave his side for months after. I quit my job, per his request. I cut contact with friends and family. I devoted my entire life to him. I wanted to leave, to be free but I couldn't bring myself to even whisper the thought aloud.

With every exhale I feel him crammed down my throat. Every time I shower I see remnants of him covering every inch of my skin. I will never be free of him. Traces will always remain.

I look down solemnly at this body. This body I lost ages ago, amongst many other things I will never get back. 

I want to delude myself into thinking that I have a life outside E/N. Maybe even a life with Ed. But I find that oftentimes in these situations I'm always brought down to earth one way or another.

Ed isn't the first guy to befriend me. He certainly isn't the first to be this comforting. I hope he stays around longer than the others. E/N always has a way to drag me back home. 

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

He lives just outside of Gotham Central. A twenty-minute walk from the police beat, how ironic. Sweet lady Karma always finds her way. 

I don't even think. My mind is blank. I have only one goal. I don't bother to bring weapons or anything fancy. I'll beat him with my fists and if that doesn't kill him I'll bite him and if that doesn't kill him I'll strangle him. 

I will use every ounce of fight in my body until that ugly shit is bleeding. Then I will drag his corpse to Y/N's apartment and fuck her guts out in front of it.

I march down the street like a goddamn soldier, fist balled tight. Looking like a sight to see. My vision blurs with sheer, uncontained rage. It boils in my veins, a thick, bubbling, viscous fluid. 

His house is an eyesore. Ghastly, peeling off white paint plastered over the front of the house. The door looks like it's been beaten worse than Y/N's face. I walk up to the patio, debating whether or not to ring the shoddy doorbell. I decide otherwise. 

With white knuckles, I rap them loudly on the front door. No answer. Once again, I knock on the door as hard as I can. Still no answer. That son of a bitch better be here or I'll make him wish he was never born.

I exhale sharply before slamming myself into the door. Pain erupts almost immediately from my shoulder. I hear a muffled rustle of movement from inside the house. I knew that bastard was home. 

Gingerly rubbing my shoulder, I kick the door down with one swift movement. The interior of the house is even uglier than its exterior if that's even possible. 

A stained threadbare carpet lays on the floor like a grimy dead body. The floorboards are a dull brown and scratched to high heaven. The whole room exudes a scent of cheap, flat beer and washed-up dreams.

Fitting but nonetheless sickening. I squint in the dismal lighting, looking for any sort of figure. I keep myself on the tips of my toes. He's going to want to pull off a surprise attack but there's one thing I have that he doesn't - a head on his shoulders.

I hear a gun cock from behind the kitchen counter.

"What do you want?!" A voice yells. I don't answer, he doesn't deserve an answer. "I asked you a question, bitch!"

The barrel of a gun taps on the kitchen counter.  I grab the first piece of furniture I see and hurl it in his direction. I duck quickly, gunshots firing wildly around the room.

"Fuck!" He shouts. I glance up at the counter, the gun is left discarded. I leap up. Rushing to him, putting my full weight onto him and pinning him to the floor.

I wrap one hand around his throat and beat him viciously with the other.

"You like that? Huh?" I spit in his face. "Are you sorry?"

"For what?" He gurgles through a mouth full of blood. "You're fucking crazy."

"For what you did to Y/N, you worthless piece of shit!" I yell, gripping his throat with a furvent anger. I slam his head into the floor by his neck over and over until the back of his head spills out onto the floorboards.

I feel his pulse slow against the palm of my hand and then stop. A grin spreads on my face from ear to ear. It's done. It's over. I did it. She's safe now. I've kept her safe. 

I did good.