Born to Fly

Soul Searching - ✔

Four in the morning doesn't come easy for most people, especially myself. I would rather be found dead than awake at those early hours of the morning. Still, half-drunk at four in the morning, I find myself landing on the ground floor.

It's strange that the mansion is entirely silent. There are no arguments, or chairs scratching against the tile, or even gunshots. It's peaceful in the most disorderly house in all of Gotham.

Soul searching so early in the day is not my idea of pleasantness, but I continue to explore the depths of my heart which have been locked away for so long.

I allow the guilt to consume me. It burns all the way down my throat, only coming to settle in my stomach. I enjoy the fire in my chest. I must deserve it. A multitude of innocent people have lost their lives and jobs because of me, or because of who I'm affiliated with. This must be my reward.

Where would Butch be if I had kept true to my word and helped him escape? How far along would Loren be if I'd encouraged her to get out and pursue college? Who am I really staying here for? I understand I can't change Penguin, and yet I want to so badly.

I drank way too much. I rush to the bathroom to throw up the contents of my stomach. The nausea is gone, so I brush my teeth and settle back in beside my boyfriend.

He looks like a new person while he's in this deep of a slumber. The responsibility, conscious, and cares have melted into the pillows. His featured are graced with gentleness. It's a sweet reminder that he's still human.

"What are you—"

Once again, I'm woken with an urge to vomit.

Oswald rubs his eyes, slowly trudging into the bathroom. He shivers as his feet touch the freezing tile. I envy how well he can hold down alcohol.

"Sera." He clenches his jaw together to keep from joining me. "I'm sorry."

The party is mostly blurry. Sharon and her clan left after the first three rounds. I don't remember anything past that.

"It's not—" Bile burns my throat— "your fault."

"It sucks, though." He holds my hair back.

A knock sounds through the bedroom.

"Boss? Boss, we have to talk. Business is going to shit and we need you."

He sighs, running his free hand over his face. "Not no—"

"Go to them."

"But you're—"

"Fine." I flush the toilet and rise to my feet. This isn't the first hangover I've ever dealt with. "I can take care of myself."

He's halfway dressed by the time he speaks again. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Washing and showering restores health in my stomach. It puts my soul at ease when everything else seems to be completely out of control.

An hour later, I dress in comfortable clothes and join the world.

"How do you feel, party animal?" Loren smirks.

"Very hungover. You look great, though. Weren't you at the party?"

"Don't you remember?" She scrambles an egg for me.

"Bits and pieces. Not much. Promise me I didn't lose my mind or dance on the bar."

"Nope. Everyone was pretty wasted. Those who don't drink left early. Those who do had a great time."

"That's good to hear," I chuckle. As I finish breakfast, my phone rings. "Hey, Lee. Is everything okay?"

"Can we talk?" she says. "I'm not sure who else to go to."