Help Me, Mr Batman

Chapter 7: Short and Not Simple

Chapter 7

A/N: Hey guys, I’m sorry about this chapter being late as I predict it will as I am typing this. My mind is so clogged and bottled up right now it is making me cry. Bear with me; I am biting my ass to get through this.

Now then, that is said; let us check in on my favourite imaginary city to see what is going on. That also being said, the people, buildings, titles, weapons, and shindigs don’t not belong to me. However, if I do catch you stealing what DOES belong to me, I will rip you apart. Kayne and this plot are mine. Kayne is me, I am her, and we are each other. Do no take my soul and mind.

Kayne’s POV

The slight breeze from the mid-October day that blew in from the open window did absolutely nothing to help accomplish the task at hand. Despite the wonderfully chill feeling wrapping around my warm body, it severed none of the pain ricocheting in my body. I gasp and bite my cheek, fisting my hands up in the sheets to keep from falling over.

“Alfred, is this really necessary? It hurts like a bloody bitch. Pardon my foul language...” I tensely breathe, squeezing my brown eyes shut. Ever since I woke up my language had taken a turn for the worst. It didn’t help that I picked up a few words from Alfred himself. Alfred’s hands reach over to help me settle down.

I’m in my bedroom with the windows open because Alfred claims it is beautiful day. Right now, I really want to sock ‘day’ in the face. That is if I could move enough to do it, thanks to my blasted beat-up body.

Alfred insisted that I do a breathing exercise to check out my lungs for any un-needed contents, and also to make sure they can fully expand again. I stupidly agreed to it not fully sure on what that meant in my drugged state.

Now that I am not in said drugged state these exercise are not something I want to do now or ever with a few broken ribs. The breathing exercise we, or mostly I, are doing currently is where I roll onto my damaged healing side and take deep, painful, and hard breathes of air. I would normally never say this but logics is a jerk.

Lying on my injured side allows the lungs to fully expand without disturbing the injury even though my weight is.

“We are almost done, Kayne. All you need to do is take a few more deep breathes.” Alfred urges comfortingly, his strong hands on my sides to help keep me up. I hesitate, and then deeply suck in, trying to fully expand my abdomen. “Now, exhale, and we can make this the last one.” Alfred suggest, causing me to exhale with relief.

I roll over and offer my hand to Alfred to assist me in sitting up. Ever since I woke up, he has strictly kept me in bed. Once he realised that I held no memory whatsoever of the incident, he instantly started suiting to my needs.

He watched over me like a hawk, looking for anything to help me with. Days passed and soon it has been a week since the apparent kidnapping of the Joker. I feel violated to know I don’t know what that bastard did to me. My multi-coloured skin clearly shows that he beat me.

It must have been quite traumatic for me to have forgotten. According to Alfred, I show no signs of a concussion, that I must have been drugged. Why they drugged me; Alfred wouldn’t say. Although I could tell he had a guess considering scratches were all over my thighs.

No, I would have known if they did anything like that. The Joker wasn’t sick enough to do that to me, was he? I don’t know. I have only known of his existence for a week.

Despite Alfred’s caring over me the one thing that bothers me is not once did my new dad come to see me. You would think having your new daughter being kidnapped by the considered deadliest criminal of all time, would at least have you checking up on her; but no, nothing. I haven’t seen even a hair of Bruce Wayne.