The Scarred

Chapter 4

The vase fell from her hands, the shattering glass echoing through the hall. Penelope's mind and body grew petrified as she stared at the card sitting in the mess of glass, water and flowers. She fell back against her door frame, her breathing sharp and fast as she began to hyperventilate. She gripped onto the front of her bra to pull it away from her chest, looking for any kind of relief, any way to find space for her to breathe properly. Yet it did nothing. She knew she was making a scene, and she wanted so badly to hide away in her apartment.

But what about the mess? She asked herself amidst the chaos. Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out the ambience around her.

"'Scuse me -?" Penelope shot straight up, eye frantically darting towards the new voice. A tall, average built man stood before her, hands held out in front of him as an offering of peace. "Apologies, I didn' mean to alarm ye. Are ye alrigh'?" His bright eyes held a gentleness in them, the same as his voice. It was soothing in a way she had never before experienced. It was hardly able to calm her, however, in her panicked state. "Righ', dumb question..." He mumbled to himself, glancing between Penelope and her welcome mat. "I'll clean this up righ' quick fer ye, tha' alrigh'?" She gave the smallest nod, letting go of her bra to wipe the tears from her face as he disappeared.

She closed her eye, grounding in an attempt to compose herself. Never had she broken down in front of a stranger. And never had she felt more humiliated by it. She hated coming across as weak and vulnerable, and she felt as if she was both in that moment.

Her eye snapped back open when she heard the sound of a plastic bag, eyeing the man warily as he walked back to start picking up the glass shards. He noticed how her breathing had only slightly improved, but it was progress.

"Why are you helping me?" The sound of her voice caught him off guard as he continued picking up the pieces.

"Juss doin' my duty."

"In Gotham?" The man sighed and looked up at her from where he was crouched on the floor.

"'Ard as it is to believe, miss, not erryone in this city is a crook." It wasn't until then that she noticed his thick accent. It was a surprise to her, however one she greatly accepted. She felt childish for it, but she was excited as it was her first time meeting someone with one. "Ye wann' keep this?" He asked, holding the Joker card between his index and middle fingers. She hesitated before reaching to grab it. "Now, I'm not all tha' superstitious," He stood up with a huff. "But if tha' is a genuine Joker card, I'd watch out if I were ye. Yer either really lucky, er 'bout to be really dead." He noticed the growing fright in her eyes. "Or! Some guy is juss actin' the maggot and playin' wit' ye."

"People are scared enough to impersonate Batman, I don't think they'd dare to impersonate The Joker himself. Seems like he gets more bold by the day for a nobody, anyhow."

"Then pray yer juss really lucky. He's gainin' reputation rather quick, if I do say so meself." He spoke in a softer tone. He began to tie the bag as she continued to carefully watch him. "I don't believe I've caught yer name yet?"

"Penelope." She paused, taking a deep breath. "Miller."

"Penelope?" The name left his lips in curiosity. "Tha's a new one." Her eye shifted to the ground. "Bu' it's refreshin'." The man offered her a friendly smile, but her expression remained constant. "Liam Garson. Juss moved in couple a doors down." He pointed off to his left.

"Why?" He threw her a confused look. "I mean, why Gotham?"

"Oh!" Liam chuckled. "Well, why not? Barely any restrictions with the mob and cops runnin' 'round lie' chickens wit' their 'eds cut off. Sure, muggers an' the lie' crawl abou', but tha's the price ye pay fer freedom, righ'?" He contained himself from beaming when she gave the ghost of a smile.