Barbara Gordon consistently lives in the shadow of her dead mother. With her father, the Commissioner of Gotham City, watching over her carefully along with her protective boyfriend, Richard Grayson, she never has had a chance to spread her wings.
G...
My heart beats erratically as I walk slowly back inside my house, that feeling of guilt that nestles close to my heart seemingly vanishes, a weight lifted once again.
What would a normal person do if they found a death threat inside of their car? Act scared, probably.
So I contort my face into a look of shock and horror, forcing my breath to come out ragged, I fling the front door open skidding on the wooden floor from the rain.
"Dad!" I scream as I try to stop at the door to the kitchen but end up slamming into the door frame. My Dad is already there to steady me, eyes filled with worry and concern.
"Barbara, what is it! What's wrong?" He demands of me.
"I found this in my car!" I thrust the paper into his hands and am surprised by my own acting to find myself brought to tears. His eyes scan the paper quickly, his face slowly turns pale white and then flushes red with anger. He thrusts his hand into his pocket and retrieves his phone from his pocket, punches in a number and begins speaking so fast into the receiver that the words merge together into one long buzz. He wedges his phone between his shoulder and his cheek, rushing back into the kitchen and returning with a Smith and Wesson pistol, he grabs me by the upper arm and shoves me out of the house and into the back of the squad car.
I am glad for the fact that I had held onto my bag and I fish my phone from it, I have a message from Dick.
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I can't even begin to think about how much he would worry at the fact that someone was threatening my life. Before I can see a reply to my message my Dad turns a corner so sharply that the phone flies out of my hand and to the other side of the car. I had neglected to buckle my seat belt and as my Dad rounds yet another corner at speeds that are well over the limit, my face slams into the side window.
Thankfully I get to the police station without serious injury, my Dad was instantly at the door and pulling me into the building. Familiar faces swim before me, two men who I have known for most of my life, Jason, and Ryan.
"Don't worry Barbara, we're not going to let anything bad happen to you." Said Ryan, I used to call him uncle Ryan, he's been there for Dad since Mom died. I offer him a watery smile from beneath the false tears.
The next couple of hours were a tedious blur of being questioned; Do you know someone who has something against you? Where did you find the note? Did you leave your car unlocked? Has anything gone missing? Blah, blah, blah. More and more tedious questions were asked of me and I found myself lying to most of them or resort to crying so much that I couldn't answer the questions. My Dad was there with me throughout, an arm around my shoulders or there with a box of tissues. Soon enough it was over and I was put into a small room by myself, the room consists of a table and two chairs, a jug of water and a plastic cup. I can only guess that there are armed men outside.
After what could have been thirty minutes or three hours of looking at a blank wall, the door shifts open and a young cop walks in, someone who I haven't seen. He must be in his mid-twenties, his smile is so dazzlingly white that they gleam unnaturally in the harsh fluorescent light. His hair gleams like honey and his skin is very tan, he is every bit the pretty boy but what catches my attention the most is the fact that he holds my phone in one hand and my bag in the other.
