The Gotham Queen

Chapter 1

Looking at myself in the mirror of my one-bedroom apartment, I sigh. It's currently 7:15 in the morning, and I can already hear police sirens blaring through the city. Only in Gotham, the city known for its heavy crime, are police sirens constantly sounding at all hours of the day and night.

I sigh again and look over my outfit that I picked out for my new job, which I have to be at in 45 minutes. I'm so nervous that I almost want to dive back under the covers of my bed and hide there for the rest of my life, but I know that I have to square my shoulders if I want to make it in life.

I'm wearing my favorite bright red silk blouse, a black pencil skirt that stops just above my knees, and a pair of black high heels. I pinch at the skirt, wishing it had been just a few inches longer, and frown.

"Why did the skirt have to be so short? I didn't want to look like a tramp on my first day."  I huff out in a breath in slight anxious frustration, causing a piece of my light blonde hair to fall out of the tight bun I have my hair in, and into my face. Muttering under my breath in frustration, I try to force it back into place with hair pins. This one piece of hair refuses to work with me, and I have an itching to just cut the whole thing off.

Sighing, I look in the mirror one last time to make sure that not a single thing is out of place, unless you count my stubborn piece of hair. My bright blue eyes, rimmed by the glasses that I don't actually need, show just how nervous I am inside them.

Deciding that I look as best as I'm going to get, I grab my phone off the charger and put it in my small black purse. Walking down the short hallway in my apartment, I walk into the living room and kitchenette combination.

For breakfast, I grab an apple out of the basket on my kitchen counter before swiping my keys from their spot next to the basket. I quickly head out the door, locking it behind me as I go. My alarm on my phone goes off, telling me I have 30 minutes left to get to work, as I head down to the lobby. If this elevator would go any faster, I would have been at my car already.

I speed walk through the lobby when the doors ding open, not wanting to waste any more time in my rush to work. I don't even stop to wave at the front desk worker, who always stares at my ass when I'm around. Pervert.

Once outside, I make my way over to my very beat up red trailblazer. I got it on sale for $800, which is a really good price for a car in working condition in Gotham. I get in the driver's seat, throwing my purse into the seat next to me, and start the car. I eat my apple as I wait for the car to heat up, shaking the chilly air from my bones. It's almost Thanksgiving, so the air is getting colder outside, and I dread the thought of what the holidays will bring.

My eyes drift to my split lip and the small cut under my right eye, and I wince at the memory of how I got them. Last night had been a bad night, and I'm still surprised that a person can change so much in the span of a year.

My mother died years ago when I was at the young age of twelve, leaving me in the hands of a father who can't stand the sight of me, let alone actually care about me. To him, I will always be more worthless than the trash lining the streets and a disappointment. Nothing I ever do makes him happy.

I fight his rules, I lose. I follow them, I still lose. So, what's the point?

He's even forced me into a relationship that I never wanted to be a part of. The man is just as cruel as him, if not more. No matter what I do, or how I do it, I can never get anything right. I fail at sleeping even. How the hell can someone fail at sleeping? SLEEPING!

A tear goes down my face, and I furiously wipe it away as I pull out of the apartment complex's parking lot and start to head for the building that I'm starting my job at today.