Flytrap | WATTYS 2022 SHORTLIST

16 | Sapling

"Ow!" Barbara flinched back from Harleen's careless fingers. "What are you doing?"

Harleen glanced up with a frown. "I'm just tryin' to stretch your legs out."

Barbara resisted the urge to slap her hand over her face. "You're supposed to massage them, not pull them! I think I felt my tendon snap!"

"Well, isn't that a good thing? It means you can feel somethin'!" Harleen perked up from off the carpet.

"I could feel where my thigh was about to break off from the rest of my body," Barbara spat, rubbing her inner thigh. "And it's below the knees where I can't feel, not my entire legs. Look, just try to be more careful, okay?"

A spray of spittle shot through the air as Harleen blew a raspberry. "All right, all right. Geez, what is with you redheads? You guys are always so bossy!"

Rolling her eyes, Barbara ignored her and went back to the newspaper in her hand. In the days following her release from Arkham, something which she still hadn't forgiven her dad for, Barbara learned Wayne Enterprises had suffered a pretty rough week. Not only had its stocks taken a severe tumble, but there were rumors of its employees wanting to quit because they felt, quote-unquote, "unsafe."

And what did Bruce Wayne have to say about all this? Nothing. The man who always seemed to be in the spotlight had been keeping a low-profile. He hadn't been spotted in nearly a week, but that didn't stop the vultures known as the media to keep from hounding him or camping outside his house.

It didn't help that because he refused to speak, it left room for gossip to spread like wildfire. From things like Bruce killing his own employees because they had dirt on him to Bruce pissing off the wrong people like the Mafia, it was hard to believe the actual truth was more outlandish than any conspiracy theory.

With the media constantly after him and speculation his investors were ready to pull out, Barbara almost felt sorry for the man. But it was hard to sympathize with a man worth more than the Crown Jewels.

Who she actually felt sorry for were the people like her dad, the ones left to speak on Bruce's behalf. Just like he did right now for today's headline.

"'Bruce Wayne has been nothing but cooperative', police commissioner confirms," Barbara repeated out loud. "Meaning he's still a suspect," she muttered, able to read between the ink-printed lines.

"Ya' think so?" Harleen's ponytails flopped to the side as she cocked her head. "Cause Red says the same thing!"

Oh, right. Barbara had forgotten she was here. How such an eccentric, childish woman could escape her notice-Wait, Red?

"Who's Red?" Barbara lowered the paper from her face.

"That's my nickname for Pamela!" Harleen grinned. "I also call her Pammy sometimes. But mostly, Red because of her red hair."

"Right... So you know Pamela? Like you two are friends?" Barbara had always suspected this, but she had no proof. Like most things, she only had her hunches. But now, she might actually get her first shred of tangible evidence. A confession.

"Yup! I've known her for more than a decade." Harleen looked almost proud of that fact. But who would be proud of knowing a serial killer? Of someone who was not even human?

Barbara felt the color drain from her face. This revelation raised so many new questions. Did Harleen even know Pamela's true nature? She had to, right? And if she did-and was seemingly fine with it-what did this make Harleen? An accomplice? Or something even worse?

Something like Pamela?

Damn it. She was doing it again. She was jumping to conclusions without any proof besides some coincidental dates and names and Bruce's-a. k. a. a known liar-word for it. And look where that got her the last time. But on the other hand, it's not like Pamela ever really denied she was a killer...