Laughing On The Outside

Chapter 2

  Your door closed with a loud bang as you collapsed on the floor, eyes burning, heart shattered. You didn't know what to think, how to feel. Your mind was a knot you couldn't seem to untie. Everything you'd witnessed happened so quickly, you were completely caught off guard, resulting in your passiveness. When the two men disappeared farther into the other wagons, you quickly grabbed your things and stepping over the dead bodies, you got off at the next stop. You ran like you'd never done in your entire life, in fear of the clown changing his mind and trying to kill you too. You kept repeating to yourself that the gunshot you'd heard was just in your head. You knew it wasn't.

  Once in the safety of your small apartment, you tried to catch your breath. Organizing your thoughts was now a priority. You had to think clearly, in order not to lose it too. You'd just witnessed a cold-blooded murder, yes, that happened. And it had been some time since the incident, maybe an hour, an hour and a half, you weren't sure. You wanted to call the police, you felt like you ought to do that. Your hands, however, didn't seem to be getting the message.

  You decided not to get involved, keeping whatever you'd seen to yourself and yourself only. There was nobody around when you left, hopefully, the only person that had last seen you was the killer. And the more minutes went by, the more time he had to get away with his murders. Contacting the police at that moment would be helpful for the investigation that would follow. There where higher chances he'd get caught and arrested. Still, you did nothing.

  You lay in bed, wide awake, the scene playing in your head over and over again. You were exhausted but all this stress prevented you from sleeping even for a minute. Were you really safe? What if you weren't? How were you supposed to go to work the next morning? You were far from okay and not really hard to read. Your boss, maybe your coworkers, someone would eventually notice. Lying wasn't your specialty, either...

  Your telephone started ringing and you let out a startled scream, immediately placing your hand on your mouth. You got up in an instant, your hand lingering over it for a few seconds before finally picking up; you were supposed to be sleeping. You sat close to your nightstand as you brought the receiver to your ear.

  "Hello?" Your voice was hoarse and barely audible. You glanced at the clock on the plain white wall; three in the morning. You bit the inside of your cheek, ready to hear a male voice telling you that they're calling from the GCPD.

  "Y/n? I'm so sorry I'm calling you at this hour, I really am, but we have breaking news and Seaver needs you here, now!" As soon as you heard the very familiar voice, you relaxed, letting out a sigh. You rubbed your forehead as you closed your eyes momentarily. You were okay. Things were going to be okay.

  "Vicki?"

  "Yeah?"

  "I think I'm going to be sick..." It wasn't a total lie. Your forehead was warmer than usual and your throat burned. But these could just be aftereffects of the shock you'd been through.

  "Isn't everyone in this city? Look, I know what you mean and Andy told me you were working late but this isn't my call, I'm sorry. Seaver is freaking out, there were three murders in the subway and copies should be ready by six-"

  You've been working with Vicki for years, you knew she had definitely offered to cover for you. Things must have been pretty crazy in the offices of the Gazette for her to call you. Seaver must have been pretty desperate to find suckers to edit and print for the next few hours. It didn't matter that you were a photographer, you could still be a sucker.

  "Alright, fine. Fucking fine..."

  "Hey, if it makes you feel better, I'll come pick you up whenever you tell me, okay? I know it's late, Gotham isn't the safest place to get about at this hour..."