730 days~ Batcat

Up in smoke

Selina pov

I shot up in bed, clutching the minute device, pure rage igniting within me.

I couldn't believe I thought he would have changed. That he cared for those around him.

He was a lying, distrustful, disgusting traitor!

He stabbed me in the back! AGAIN!

Fury and pure, blinding hatred burned inside me, the flames licking my heart, numbing any other emotions. All I felt was pain. The mind numbing, writhing, soul shattering pain of lies and deceit. He was going to regret this. I was going to regret ever trusting him.

For ever giving him the power to hurt me! For ever giving him the power to destroy my in this way... AGAIN!!

And then I screamed. A scream that I had been holding in for too long. Since the bullet entered my body, since Bruce left my side, since I left Alfred, since Strange tortured me in a lab, since I came back to Gotham, since I found out Bruce was a bat.... since I started caring for him again.

I just screamed.

The shrill ear splitting sound soon died to a broken whimper as tears of suffering and agony trickled down my face. I let out a sob, curling in on myself. I hoped he could hear. I hoped he knew what he had done. I hoped it tore him apart like it did me.

I sat, trembling, staring silently at the remote, rocking back and fourth on my bed. How could I do this to myself. How could I let him in? How could I make myself so vulnerable? I hated myself, but I hated him more.

My blank stare shifted to the wall, my emotions erupting inside, my appearance calm and collected. I don't know how long I sat there, feeling the numbness of the hollow void within me. I felt nothing for him. Nothing. Not care, not anger... nothing. It was like, in that moment, I had finally accepted that this was it. That Selina Kyle was dead. That Bruce Wayne had helped to kill her. That he had ended his own existence along with hers. Nothing mattered anymore. Why should it? Things only matter when you care, for yourself or others, when you want to preserve your life or the lives of those around you. But you can't hurt something you can't touch. And you can't touch ghosts.

I got up, my expression blank, the numbness becoming overwhelming. I got dressed into my Catwoman attire in a daze, not even registering my movements. I didn't know what it is I wanted to do, or where I planned to go. I just wanted to walk. Leave this place and every single memory it harboured within it.

As I reached for my blades, the small piece of card on my side table caught my eye. I stared at it, not even aware of what it meant, before grabbing it and holding it to a candle beside it. The flames overtook the note, obliterating it in an inferno of meaningless pain. I watched it turn to ash, before brushing it away to join the worthless dust accumulating on the floor of my residence. Paper is so fragile.

Perhaps I had meant to burn it all along.