A Wayne

6- Miss Wayne*

-Martha-

(warning: mature content ahead)

one,

two,

three,

and four.

The steps fall into place as usual. My eyes narrow, so does my hands around my brothers shoulder; trying to hold my self up straight.

one, two...three, and lastly four.

The music sounds blurring as easy beat forces me to it's command. I hear mother's words in my head telling me that every Wayne should dance at a Gala. Keep up the valuable appearances, always.

Even drunk, I try to keep my eyes fixated away from him. I assume he is already dancing with another one of Gotham's finest young ladies. My mind is so hazy, I can not remember if the mayor has a daughter or not. If so, he's most likely on the dance floor with her. His arms probably wandering a little to much down her waist; perhaps his breathe catches her ear. Just like he did with me, once upon a time. I suppose, not so once upon a time; more like once a week when he feels like I am the love of his life.

Better yet, once in a while when he wants something to relieve himself.

He began as just a crush, you know. The boy who is best friends with your older brothers. The type of guy who you spent family trips with. You practically grew up together. Our families were both in Gotham's oldest and richest family circle. I remember myself at eleven or so, blushing furiously each time he would come over to the manor to play tennis with Andrew and Arthur. What I would have given then for him to simply look my way.

two

three

one?

I trip a little, stumbling backwards on my brothers feet.

"Shit Martha May, you really gotta slow down on those drinks eh!" Mike laughs, trying to hold me up for once.

"I'm...all good." I collect myself, I am fine. Who cares about what he thinks.

"Hey, are you sure your alright sis?" Mike catches my the down turn of my reaction.

Honestly, who really cares! I am a young women, prime of her life. I can do what I want, when ever I want to. I am Martha Wayne, Gotham cities biggest bachelorette. I am daughter of Bruce Wayne. I never needed him anyways! I stand up straighter.

"Yes, I'm good. Great actually, thanks." I push past Mike, my eyes trailing towards my table.

Mother and Father have finally decided to be seated since the start of the gala. They lean into one another, whispering what can only be gossip, or perhaps politics. Who knows with my parents. I take my chances with them. My feet taking me back over to our table. I bite to eat would do me some good.

My father notices me first, as always.

"Hello my dear." His voice is calm, almost comforting.

"Hello father." I give him a smile, the type any father would die for. He smiles back, taking a sip of the drink in front of him.

"Have you danced yet?" My mother interrupts the moment, as always.

"Yes, just now with Micheal." I pull open the chair for myself to sit down.

"You know, it would look better if you danced with Thomas." Before I can even sit, she is already correcting me. I try my best not to roll my eyes as I slip gently into the chair. She continues.