his precious Queen

1

I seen Gotham in a new light, seen my self in a different way. When I look in my bathroom mirror I expect to see a monster. I expect to see someone - so different it would horrify myself. I even expect to have nightmares filled with marks face.

But it's been two months.

Two months of nothing but comfortable rest. Two months of dreams filled with peace. I didn't have to worry about him leering out of the shadows because I took back power. I spilled his blood. So thick, warm and crimson I almost questioned if I was dreaming. If I was imagining it all.

It almost had me wondering if the thrill of the kill was knowing the victim didn't have any power. That the person who held the power was the one who held the weapon. Or was it the sight of the light that dimmed from their eyes, so gradual it almost felt as If their soul was snatched. Taken as a trophy until the killer will take their last breath, then and only then would it be realised. To heaven, or to hell.

In Mark's case - hell. I saw him in his worst moments. Forced to endure it, If he were to grace the purely white gates any and all fate I would have in a god would be ruined.

I limped out of the dark alleyway. Hand gripping at my rib as my eyes settled on the double doors of Wayne enterprise. J had been monitoring Bruce, and had been learning his schedule to enact the heist at large. It was my job now to get into the heart of his home. To play the victim I once was.

It was everyone's knowledge he was a sucker for helping the needy. Every month he donated a large amount of money to Arkham - to every homeless shelter scattered around the outskirts of Gotham. Me venturing into where he was, begging for help will only feed the broken little boy in his heart. But no matter how hard he tries, the ache of watching his parents die. Being powerless will only grow the more people he watches die.

My picture littered the walls down in his lobby. Almost in desperate need of someone knowing where I was. Desperate to know he could help me, to save me from the Clown himself. The woman behind the desk sat up, her shoulders tense as her eyes darted over my body. Taking in everything as if seeing me was like seeing a fragment of a ghost. Proof that the paranormal walked amongst us.

"Oh my." She gasped.

"I need Bruce Wayne." I rasped.

"I'm afraid you need The authorities ma'am." She picked up the desk phone beside her, ready to dial the number of the GCPD. I sighed, calming the rapid beat of my heart as I stepped forward.

"I need Bruce Wayne. He is the only one I will talk to." I hissed, feeling the throbbing sensation of my ankle.

"Okay." She reluctantly dialled the number up to the office. No doubt pissed at not getting the reward money the detectives and Bruce Wayne offered them.

The ride up to the tip of the building seemed so long. Filled with different types of emotions, swirling in the pit of my abdomen. Everything was weighing on my shoulders. If Bruce didn't buy my act - the heist and everything would be for nothing. I would be letting down J - frost. Everyone.

My new fucking family. One who didn't let me down, but built me up to become stronger than I could comprehend. If you had asked me a year ago if I would be happy again, to feel safe I would have said no. It was a fucking fever dream.

The doors opened and straight away, Bruce was quick to swarm me. His eyes creased as he looked over my features.

"Are you hurt?" He questioned. Voice filled with concern.

"Yeah."

He held out his hand, palm flat and open ready for me to take it.

I widened my eyes as I took a step back, tugging my bottom lip into my mouth. Chewing, until the familiar taste of iron spread over each taste bud. Taking over until it's gone. Only leaving a small bead of after taste.

"What hurts?" He dropped his hand to his side.

"My ankle and my ribs." When I had received these injuries during training, j was fucking pissed. Without even blinking he killed the man without breaking so much as a sweat. Only after he realised the cards were in our favour.

The GCPD may be stupid - but not that stupid to believe that the joker wouldn't torcher me in some way. He was heartless to them. And in ways, he was. I have seen him cut a man open and take out his organs. I've witnessed him slit a man's wife in front of him simply because he was called soft. When indeed he was everything but. To them at least. At first seeing the switch from a loving boyfriend to a cold hearted killer was strange. Scary even but now? It seems normal.

Bruce picked me up in his arms, careful not to touch the sensitive areas. And for once I wish j was here. To hold me instead of him.

Bruce sat me down on the leather sofa. Hands cupping my sides as he peered into my eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't know where else to go." I mumbled. "The last time I was with the GCPD he found me." I shook my head. "The punishment was awful."

Bruce leaned forward, handing a bottle of water. Eyes filled with sympathy.

"What did he do melody."

I sighed, hands shaking as I brought the bottle to My lips. Drinking the liquid as if I was hungry for air.

"He thought it would be fun to play some mental games with me." I whispered."He locked me in a room, no windows, only concrete walls. There was a small pocket of room. Screams echoed in. So loud so agonising I screamed and cried along with them." I Whipped a fallen tear with the back off my hand.

"When it stopped getting amusing for him, he brought two men into the room, only one source of light that came from the opened door. He had me fight them off each morning and night. But when I blacked out he started to feed me." I pointed to my gained muscle. I knew the question would have came up.

How could I possibly he a prisoner if I wasn't skin and bones. "He wanted me to be at full strength. Wanted me to fight them off with everything I got and when that wasn't enough. He dragged me underground to a room filled with men, some wore the GCPD Uniform."

I avoided his gaze as I favorited a spot on the floor, just in front of his desk.

"He made me fight in front of them. And when I thought they would have helped they laughed." I shook my head, wincing as I shifted underneath the leather. "I trust no man in uniform now."

Bruce grabbed his phone, his long thick fingers wrapped around the black case. "I'm sorry but I need to inform Detective Jim Gordon."

"No." I screamed. "I came here because I trusted you. If I wanted them I would have gone back to that station."

Bruce sighed, nodding his head. His black hair scattered down his forehead. I understand why most women find him attractive, why he is called a playboy billionaire. But nothing can compare to the icy blue eyes of J.

Bruce's finger tips ran across my skin, assessing each limb he came across. Only stopping when I winced, forcing the limb away.

"It's not broken." He mumbled. "I can treat you at my mansion."