Terror In Gotham City

Chapter 2

*Accalia*

Almost an hour later, the building I live in with Jim comes into view. We live in the penthouse at the top of the building with his fiancé, Barbara Kean, and she's more a sister than a mother figure. The blonde woman is a miracle worker and a living beauty without a doubt, and she is someone I can look up to and go to with anything no matter how bad it is. Not to mention, the majority of the clothes that live within my wardrobe are outfits that no longer fit her, or ones that she no longer likes.

A chirping sounds and I pull my phone out, not hesitating to hit the answer button. "Barbara, what are you doing calling me at this hour?"

Barbara laughs, not even slightly berated by my sass. "I was just wondering when you are getting home. Or, by any chance, are you staying with your boy toy tonight?"

"If you're insinuating that Jerome and I are a thing, I'm going to burst your bubble on that one. There is no way in hell that we're ever going to be a thing in any way, shape, or form."

"Oh, alright. I'll believe that when I see it. Either way, when are you going to get home? Jim's at work and I've got no one here."

I chuckle. "You're in luck. I'm on my way up."

"Yay!"

"James said he was going to be there by the time I got here. What is he doing?"

"I don't know, Cali. Who knows what he has roped himself into this time? It may be tomorrow when we see him next."

I sigh, walking out of the elevator as the doors Bing open. "Who knows? I'm back now. You can hang up, quit worrying, and go to sleep. I'll wake you if anything happens."

"Alright. Thank you, Cali."

Barbara hangs up and I push open the door, latching it behind me as I shove my phone deep into my pocket. It's a strange thing to be coming back to the penthouse at such an hour. The entire thing looks as though it is an utterly different place than where I live. The shadows give the penthouse an eerie feel that sends chills through my body, causing the hairs on my arms and legs to stand erect, and making me instinctively roll my shoulders in an attempt to rid myself of the chill.

There's no lights illuminating this apartment, and that leaves the silver light from the moon to bathe the furnished room in a serene light. The shadows are long and unnatural, and the shapes they have morphed into over the hours are grotesque forms without distinct shape or detail. The lack of unnatural light has allowed a stillness and an almost ice cold atmosphere to descend upon the house.

Weaving my way through the furnishings, I make my way to the bedroom I've been sleeping in for the past decade. It's no small room by any means. With the money Jim makes being in law enforcement, and the money Barbara inherited from her parents, and for the charity work she does, they have enough to last them a lifetime or five.

There's a large, king sized bed in the dead center of the farthest wall, an entire wall covered in books to my left, a large black desk to my right with a deep purple swivel chair accompanying it, and a wardrobe that is almost half the length of the remainder of the wall. The books are mainly fictional and about faraway lands with tyrant kings and seductive villains, but, to the side closest to the back wall, there are books on serial killers, murders and every type of mental afflictions and diseases known to mankind. They're the ones that have allowed me to know that my best friend is more than he lets on.

The giant window on the left wall meets the end of my wardrobe and allows a lot of the silvery moonlight to illuminate my room. In the light, I can make out the geometric patterns on my purple and black bed set, and see the vibrant red of my pillow cases. It's one of those sets that is double-sided. One side has a black and purple geometric pattern, and the other is, for some reason, a vivacious cherry red that sends chills down my spine. The combination of the three colours is unexpectedly complementary and mesmerizing.