Simply & Sanely - Jeremiah Valeska

Chapter 6

The previous tenant of your apartment had chosen this dazzling shade of green for the hallway's walls. It reminded you of a pop-eyed frog that had exploded and its remains got soaked in by the dry walls. The green color was sickening, but you endured it. The luxury of new white paint seemed unaffordable by checking your account balance. You needed to save the money.
You opened the door of your apartment and sighed in relief at the sight of your hallway. God, you've never felt such gratefulness being able to see this ugly shade of green again. Suddenly, you found yourself on the floor, weeping bitterly.
All the horrible events and emotions overwhelmed you; witnessing death and being kidnapped felt like nightmares in the moment, but now - back in your own little world - they felt real. Too real. And there was no escape from it...

You flinched as footsteps approached you. Camila, your neighbor, came to an halt at sight of your miserable state. She threw her hands in the air while scolding you in Spanish.
„Dios mío! De dónde...?"
„Not now, Camila. Please, por favor. I'm fine." You passed her with shaky knees and the middle-aged woman followed you to the bathroom. Her dark eyes glistened with anger and concern.
„Y/N, nina, explain! I was worried, you didn't come home and police showed up...-" A gleam of panic struck your exhausted body. You stared at Camila with widened eyes.
„The police?"
„Sí. Two officers."
You took a deep breath and splashed some cold water on your face. Camila started to talk again, asking you too many questions, so you pressed the mute button and disregarded her. You focused on your self-reflection on the mirror and lent it your voice.

Two police officers were here. Why? Silly me, you knew it. The shooting at the ally... I'm a precious witness, they probably watched the records of the security cameras outside the club. Yeah, of course. That's why.
But what now?
You bit on your lower lip as you avoided your own eye-contact.
They will come back to question me, like Camila does now. But they will be stricter and won't accept my silence. It will be tough. So what should I do?

Jeremiah's nerve-wracking smile popped up in your mind when he gave you the answer back in the car.
He said I should tell the truth. He can't be serious. Is he testing me? I need to tell the police about Martinez, but maybe that's part of his plan? This maniac will kill me after I achieved my purpose, no doubt.I won't be his puppet. I will find a way breaking free from his little game and saving Martinez.

„Y/N!" Camila placed her hand on your swollen cheek and you hissed. The pain brought you immediately back to reality.
„Did someone hit you? A man?", she asked alarmed. Camila knew about your night-time job and how moody the drunken customers could get after some beer and whisky.
Her daughter had known as well - she used to work as a stripper and prostitute in a seedy club down the street. She lived in her mother's apartment above you and the arguments were very loud and heated. Until one night in March last year - it became all quiet. Just here and there you would hear the muffled sobs of a mother who had lost its only child. She was 22 years-old when a man had chocked her to death. Since then, Camila took care of you.

„No. Just a jealous woman." You tried to soothe her worries with a fake smile, the best you could pull, but your weak attempt didn't fool her. Before she could inspect your appearance any further, you hid in the room next door.

Careful to shut the door quietly, you stepped closer to the bed and noticed the fresh tulips on the night table. Camila was truly an angel, you thought and reached out to gently touch your sister's face. Her skin was almost as white as the bed sheets and it made you gulp.

„Hey, I'm back", you whispered, brushing some strains of hair out of her face. The beeping machines that kept your sister alive were the only audible response you got. They were running for two years now - since the day your beloved sister went into a coma. She looked so peaceful in her never-ending sleep, so calm and normal.
During the daytime you'd imagine how she spent the night with her friends, hitting the club and drinking too many drinks, then sneaking into her room and sleeping tightly till afternoon, totally exhausted.
During nighttime you'd imagine how she danced all day, or rode the bike to Gotham's only park and took a nice long walk, petted some cute dogs, ate ice-cream and then came home before you'd arrive. She'd be so tired and wouldn't wake up when you pressed a good-night kiss on her cheek.Those little fantasies comforted you and kept you going, regardless how sad it was. You would proof all the doctors wrong who gave up on you sister. You would work night after night in that hell of a strip club to earn the money for those life-sustaining machines.

You sat down on the chair next to the bed and heard something crackling in the pocket of your dress. You frowned and slid your hand inside to pull out some kinked dollar bills.
„What the...", you mumbled, but then remembered: It was the money you had stolen from the four men in the alley, the bastard who tried to rape you.
250 dollar.
You harshly wiped the fresh tears away and walked back to the door. Now was not the time to cry.
„Camila!", you called out and the woman stormed towards you. You gave her 50 dollars.
„Here, please buy her medicine." Camila took it and nodded. You squeezed her hand and thanked god for this caring woman before you rushed into your room. You took the black dress off and changed into more comfortable and neutral-colored clothes. It was time to visit an old friend.
___

Thieves were not uncommon in Gotham and in fact a part of everyday life. Desperate scream like ‚Stop thief!' and ‚Help, I got robbed!' turned into basic background noises along with the honking cars and swishing helicopters.

You stood by a kiosk when you witnessed one of those crimes.
With your face deep in the hood of your jacket, you were looking into the distance at a well-dressed business man. He ordered a coffee and didn't notice the stranger's hand inside his back pocket. With his purse in her hands, Selina Kyle passed the man casually and entered an alley. You followed her and spotted her figure sitting on some fire stairs three meters above the ground. She smirked victoriously as she counted the money.

„A good catch?", you made yourself noticeable and Selina raised her head, only to title if after a second.
„Did you get lost?", she asked back and you shook your head slightly.
„I was looking for you."
„I'm honored", Selina said sarcastically and dropped the empty purse in front of your feet. You bit your lower lip while looking around for possible listeners. Selina noticed your uneasiness and climbed down effortlessly. Her moves always reminded you of a cat. And as one, she stared at you with her green observing eyes.
„What's wrong?" You shoved a hand towards her, nodding reassuringly and watched her puzzled face turning into one with surprise after she took the money from you.
„200 dollar", you simply said.
„For what?"
„I need a gun", you said and Selina raised her eyebrows.
„For self-defense. You know where I work at and after all, this is Gotham", you explained yourself, but Selina didn't buy that.
„Why not just go and buy one? There are plenty stores at every corner. After all, this is Gotham." There it was, the sassiness of a survivor.
„Too many cameras. Nobody needs to know." Selina narrowed her eyes. She was skeptical, for good reason.
„Nobody or... a specific person?"
You sighed. Selina wasn't stupid nor naive, she knew that something was off, you saw it in her eyes, but she was one of your friends and you couldn't involve her any further into your problems. So you shrugged the hood off of your head and offered her a small smile.
„Please, Selina. I know I can rely on you and I need your help. You are one of the few people I trust the most", you confessed and Selina scoffed as she considered your request. In the end, she gave in and buried the dollar bills deep in the pocket of her leather jacket.
„Fine", she mumbled. It took a load off your mind. „Thank you."
___

Oswald's head snapped up when he heard someone walk into his office. „Victor", he breathed and rushed a few steps towards the hitman.
The bold man folded his hands in front of him as he stood there, smirking at the Penguin.
„Cut that stupid grin and tell me what you got!", Oswald demanded, gripping his walking stick firmly. But Victor just passed him to pull out a chair, indicating Oswald to take a seat.
The black-haired man fought against the urge to activate the hidden knife in his walking stick, but he obliged and sat down. „Well, Victor?", he raised his chin and eyed him expectantly. Victor laid three photographs of Y/N on the table for Oswald to see.
One where she left the strip club with the four men close behind.
One by Jeremiah's car in front of her apartment.
And one showing Y/N and Selina together this afternoon.

Oswald took one photograph in his hand to take a closer look at the woman's face. „Who is she?"
„Your free ticket to that maniac", Victor answered at which Oswald got his full attention, so he continued: „This woman was involved in the shooting at the alley. He took her with him, dropped her by her apartment like a gentleman and right after that she met up with that kitten, gave her a lot of money."

The Penguin brought his other hand to his mouth as he was deep in thought. His fingers tapped quickly against his lips. „You want me to bring that lady to you?", Victor asked into the silence, but his boss raised his hand to hush him. „No. We don't know her connection to Mr. Valeska. Bring me Selina instead."
___

The Wonderland's strip club was always very crowded by the end of the week. It was Thursday night and you were inside the dressing room, applying make up for your soon to start show.
The foundation had covered the redness of your cheek, but not the swelling. However, you didn't care as the customers won't look at your face during your performance. A hard knock at the door made you flinch.
„Five minutes! Hurry up!", someone called and you put the make up away, inspecting your attire in the mirror.
You wore a breath of nothing, a black leather lingerie that barley covered the most important parts. The thong was connected to the bra via three straps and the material squeaked softly as you walked. It was sexy; a men's dreams, but for you it was just work clothes.

With slow and long steps, you moved on the stage. All eyes were on your body as you started you performance, swaying your hips to the music and teasingly circling the pole. Whistles and dirty compliments came from all directions and you forced a smirk on your red lips. You moved to the edge of the stage, kneeling down and playfully winking at the first row.
The whistles got louder.
You stood up and danced seductively, touching your curves the way all those shameless men would wish to. Your eyes wandered lazily around the dark club and you blinked, looking back where you'd spotted something off.

There, at a table near the bar, Jeremiah sat quietly and dead still, unlike his conspecifics. His piercing green eyes followed your every movement and it made you shiver.
Taken aback, you had stopped your performance and stared back at the fine dressed criminal. „Hey, keeping going, sugar!", some men yelled and you continued. You turned your back to the audience and held the pole, wiggling your arse. The howling was deafening.
Why is he here? You glimpsed over your shoulder and searched for his table, but he was gone. Then, another stripper appeared on stage who pressed her lips to you ear.
„You have to go backstage. There's a man waiting for you", she whispered and you nodded, leaving the stage.

You heart was bounding like a jackhammer as you walked along the back area, looking for this maniac's devious smile.
„Y/N L/N?", a man that you were about to pass addressed you. „Yes?", you responded unsure and stopped.
He had a solid body language and a stern expression, but his eyes shimmered with relief at your confirmation. He didn't look like your regular customers. He was dressed in a dark blue suit with a white shirt and grey tie, too formal for a little fun.
„James Gordon, GCPD", he introduced himself and offered you his hand. That's when you noticed the police badge and gun on his belt. You licked your lips that became dry all of a sudden.
„GCPD...?", you repeated and took his hand, his grip was strong, but reserved. He nodded.
„I'm sorry to bother you at... work." His eyes darted around in a appraising way and you mentally shared his dislike for this shithole. „But I need to ask you a few questions about an incident you have been involved in."
There it was. Your fear came true. Acting settled and collected, you smiled politely and nodded.
„Of course."
„You may want to change in your regular clothes. The interview will take place at the GCPD's Headquarters."
___

The interrogation room was cold and sparingly furnished with one metal table and two chairs. A small rectangular window was the only source of light along two lamps on the walls. The huge mirror next to you made you feel observed. You had no idea how many police officers had gathered behind it.