The Gotham Queen

Chapter 4

The day goes by quickly as I sit quietly in my office, going over my patient files carefully before I rub my temples and groan. I look down at the four open files strewn haphazardly on my desk and groan all over again as a migraine attacks my brain. I seriously have my work cut out for me, and I send a prayer to whatever god is listening that the guards aren't completely useless tomorrow.

I would really like to not be killed or ate because that would really be a fucking blow, and I'd like to eventually do something with my life away from my horrid father and boyfriend. I shudder at the thought of living with them forever and not escaping. I would really like to at least make it to freedom before I die.

My little red heart clock dings from its spot on my desk, telling me the day is over and that I can finally go home. Standing up, I stretch and pack up my files before sticking them in one of the filing cabinets on the other side of the room.

Grabbing my purse and keys from my desk, I exit my office and lock the door behind me. I make my way through the Asylum as I think about tomorrow, and I don't even want to mentally debate about all the ways I can die tomorrow. I don't even have the energy to imagine the various ways that I'm probably going to die at the early age of 21.

I wave to the guards as I make my way out of the building in into the gloomy, polluted air that Gotham carries on the daily. I shiver at the cold chilly breeze and quickly make my way over to my car, turning it on and heating it up. Once it's heated up enough to where I don't feel like I'm getting frostbite, I back out of my parking space and head back down the long gravel drive.

Scanning my way back out of the large gate at the end of the long drive to and from the Asylum, I head into the city. People are honking their horns left and right, cutting each other off as they try to force their way to their destinations sooner. I nearly crash three times before I make it to the parking lot of my apartment building due to several reckless drivers.

I leave my work coat in the back seat of my car with my ID before getting out and locking it. Not like I have anything worth stealing, maybe a couple coins and a dollar, I think, but I still lock it all the same. Walking into the building, I ignore the perverted lobby worker as I head for the elevator, and the numbers move slower than mosses as I head up to my floor. I start to wish I had taken the stairs because by the time I get to my floor, I would've already been in my apartment.

Eventually getting to my floor, I quickly walk down the hall and unlock apartment 36 before stumble inside my apartment. I slam the door behind me and lock the eight different locks on my door, sighing as I slump against it.

I glance up at the clock on the wall, and nearly scream in panic as I start racing through the apartment. I throw my purse onto the couch, stripping along the way in my mad dash, and nearly trip as I literally throw myself into the shower. I have a date with my boyfriend tonight, and he hates being late to anything, but the traffic made me get home much later than I had planned.

After the fastest shower in recorded history, I even managed to shave all unwanted hair away in record time, I sprint into my room and dig for the dress he had bought me last week. He'd demanded and ordered that I wear it for this date, and I have no choice but to accept. Rejecting and going against the order would end in a far worse result.

I pull out the white skin-tight dress with lace detailing and struggle to squeeze into it, causing me to internally freak out in heart-retching panic. I think I put on a pound or two, and I really hope he won't notice that I don't have the perfect thin hourglass body he expects me to have at all times. That will end in a result that I don't want, too.

After struggling for several minutes, I finally manage to pull it on and zip it up. I can barely breathe, but I'll take that over cuts and bruises any day. I quickly throw on the matching white high heels before slamming myself down on the small bench at my vanity.

I rush to put on light eyeliner, mascara, and nude lipstick like my boyfriend likes for me to wear. After that, I quickly dry my hair and curl my long blonde locks into soft little ringlets like I had been ordered to do for tonight. Once that's done, I study everything intensely in the small vanity mirror, making sure everything is picture perfect and that not a single hair is out of place, or I risk a broken rib again.

The doorbell rings, causing me to nearly faint in pure terror and anxiety as my heart skips a few beats, and not in the good, loving way, either. What if he notices that the dress doesn't fit just right? What if he doesn't approve of my makeup? What if I my tongue slips up before I can stop it like always?

Don't you dare disappoint me, Harleen!

Yelping out a small cry and whimper, I squeeze my eyes shut and grip my vanity tightly as the voice in my head mocks what he told me last night. It takes everything in me to not flinch violently and dive to the floor as I take a deep, shaking breath.

I slowly let go of the vanity and grab my matching white clutch, putting my phone inside with my keys and lipstick before I make my way to the door and unlock all my locks. Opening it to face him, I smile brightly at him as I cower in fear inside, waiting for his reaction.

Several minutes pass in utter silence as my boyfriend slowly scans me up and down, and I almost pass out due to fear alone. I can feel my eyes tearing up in utter terror, and it takes all my will power to keep them from falling to the floor in a sobbing mess. I nearly collapse in relief as he nods once, the approval almost crippling me.

I quickly close the door and lock it, so I don't make him wait any longer than absolutely necessary. I quietly let out the breath I had been holding and swallow the lump in my throat as I look at him, forcing the panic and fear out of my eyes. I know that if I show any fear of any kind, he'll enjoy it, and I don't want to play any of his games tonight. Last night had been enough for a few days.

I ask him about his day, like a good loving girlfriend would, as we head down to the lobby. I almost flinch to the side as I hear him loudly curse at the slow pace of the elevator and bite my tongue to keep the whimper from coming out. I must not show fear, or I risk losing it all.

As we reach the lobby, he tells me about how his company continues to rise up in ranks, and that my father wants to expand even further, which he agrees to. I nod as I listen to him, remaining as silent as the lifeless dead, like he prefers me to be. He hates being interrupted, and he hates it even more when I talk out of turn. I'm only allowed to speak when I'm told to, or when I'm spoken to, but even that must be as few words as possible.

He doesn't ask me about my day, and I don't expect him to ask. My day is not as important as his, and I have no meaning in life aside from making him look better in the public's eye. I try to shrug it off, but after going through this for nearly a year, it's starting to really get to me.

I know that he doesn't see me as anything other than a trophy, and I know that this will never change. He's the man of my nightmares, and he has me flinching at every noise and unsuspecting touch. When I'm with him, it's like I'm suddenly made of glass that could break at the slightest breeze of wind, and I hate feeling like this more than anything.

When we get to his car, I have to open my own door because I'm not even worth that much in his eyes. I get in the car, taking great pains to not leave a mark on the car or myself, or I risk getting a fist to my face. I don't speak as he drives us to our destination, which I'm also not worth enough to know the location of, and I listen to him rant on and on about the things happening in his life.

He takes me to my favorite restaurant in China Town, and my heart lights up with joy as my head and gut tries to tell me that something is very, very wrong. He would never do anything to make me happy unless he has a reason, but the fact he did something nice for me for a change has me ignoring every red flag that's shooting out at me.

My heart swells even more as he opens my door, and he holds his hand out for me, another thing he would never do. He gently helps me out of the car, and he even loops my arm around his, which is another thing he'd never do. We walk away from the car as I continue to ignore the voice in my head telling me that I'm in some kind of danger. What could go wrong with such a seemingly perfect night?

Everything.