Goodnight Gotham.

Chapter Eight.

On a realistic note, you were in the bathroom for about half an hour now, wiping away your tears and trying to get yourself together to face the many people who now see you as a fool.

The dimly lit, blue lighting in the bathroom seemed to be helping you. As strange as it sounds, you found it calming. You spent a few more moments crouched down in the stall and then tried to stand up. Nope. You were not ready. You were forced to sit down again.

"Okay." You began speaking to yourself. "Where are you?" You began searching for your little card. "Aha!" Luckily, you stuffed it in your bra before you walked towards the stage to get a better view of Jervis...his act...of course. At this moment you remembered your purse! You did not have it with you. "Are you fucking kidding me?" You've must have left it at the bar. Someone has stolen it for sure by now. As if this situation alone wasn't enough, you were now panicking over your purse.

"Breathe bitch, let's go through the list, worry about your purse later, you don't need a damn heart attack." "What are five things that I can see?" These things were the blue LED light shining on you, writing on the stall door that said call me with a winky face and a faded phone number. You let out a soft laugh. The other things were the toilet paper roll that was running low (oh no!), the reflection of your shoes on the floor, and the handicap bar which you rested your arm on. "What are four things that I can feel?" You felt the cold metal of the handicap bar, your sweaty palms against your thighs, the surprisingly clean and smooth walls of the stall, and the plastic from the little card that you were currently holding on to for dear life. "Three things that I can hear." You could hear the humming of the heater, music pounding against the door, and your heart still racing. "Two things that I can smell." You took a deep breath and smelled the sweet scent of your perfume and something that smelled similar to...freebreeze? "And last but not least one thing that I can taste." The only thing that you could currently taste was your lipstick that was wearing off.

When you completed your list you stayed in your stall a few minutes more, making sure that you were %100 ready. This time you were. There was no dizziness or nausea as you stood up. A sign of progress. You walked towards the mirror. "Fuck it," you said quietly as you were met with your reflection. You grabbed a wet paper towel and wiped your makeup off, every last bit of it. The feeling of a fresh face was therapeutic. You looked in the mirror again. This time you were happy with what you saw, a beautiful woman. Something that you haven't seen yourself as in a long time. You were not sure where this unforeseen wave of confidence came from. Anyhow, it didn't matter how you got, just that you have it. After your little hype session, which you greatly deserved you took a deep breath, held your chin up high, and puffed your chest out ready to take on the world. You walked out of the bathroom greeted by a familiar, handsome face. The one and only Jervis Tetch.