Porcelain [ ᴊᴏᴋᴇʀ ]

Chapter 5: Emerald Green

(Originally published: October 2020)

(Rewritten: November 2024)

Crime & Chaos

" EMERALD GREEN "

by house_of_gia

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It was 8 am on a cold and cloudy Tuesday. A girl in beige descended the dreary and littered street; her coat hood hid her face from the wolf-whistling men of Gotham City.

He, too, had his hood up to hide his gnarly scars; still, he earned glares from strangers and the usual mothers-pulling-their-child-away as they passed him. At the end of the street, the girl had bought a coffee from a small outdoor café business.

He'd give this week a miss. He had to plan. Give her a shred of hope that he had disappeared, been killed, arrested...

"Enjoy. Have a nice day."

Julie smiled. "Thanks, you too."

A gust of wind blew through the air, and her hood fell on her shoulders. Her hair flowed in tousled, golden, wind-swept curls—springy coils that danced in the air with every movement. As though the wind was a vicious predator, she pulled her hood back over her head.

Toooo nice, he thought; thanking a stranger is a low blow, Jules. Take it from me.

He stood behind her now, her jojoba-like perfume evaporated off her skin into the air—a lovely difference of vanilla and nutmeg compared to the smell of shit and garbage. She was, in his words, a burning candle in a deep cave, slowly dimming. After he was done, the wax would be melted down to the core.

She cast a glance behind her, but he was just another civilian of Gotham.

He had turned his back to her and pretended to look at a tower of postcards that had fake pictures of the shiny new Statue of Freedom in a 'joyous' Gotham City. The Statue that stood today was mouldy with bird shit.

Who would buy these anyway? Why would anyone choose Gotham as a holiday?

The city was just a smog-ridden dystopia, barely fit for human life. How Julie had found herself in this ugly place was laughable to him; it was the worst place to possibly live in, a place that no one would look at.

She had turned the corner towards a two-story building—presumably her high school—and entered through the main double doors and out of view.

The one-man security checked her lanyard and let her through, eyeing her up and down with a smile on his greasy, stocky face. She kept her head down the entire time, staring at her phone and texting her group's chat.

The tiny TV in the corner of the school's reception murmured in the background. "549 arrests have been made following counts of racketeering, fraud and murder..."

As she walked down the hallway to her form's room, a sharp pain shot through her torso. Biting her lip, she clutched her side and leant against the wall for a few seconds. The night he had broke in, his boot had almost cracked one of her ribs—but not completely; it was just heavily bruised—so she had a bruised right side and a pain in the ass to walk with it. Her tongue had mostly healed over, but it had left a gnarly scar in its track that was still painful to eat with. She was glad Beth had let her stay the weekend—she wouldn't have been able to sleep in her own house.

She inhaled and exhaled heavily; a few people walking past had looked at her strangely but she didn't care. They didn't know the reason, and they never will. She clutched her art portfolio tightly and threw the strap of her bag further over her shoulders, freeing herself from the wall.