My House Of Cards

Chapter One; Beginnings

The pitter-patter of the rain on my front windshield caused my hands to tighten on the wheel as I glared into the street. My windshield-wipers working on overdrive as I felt my anxiety increase at its average rate. I turned up the radio, intent on blocking out the rain and my thoughts as I came to the last leg of my 5 hour drive to Gotham City from my home town of Boston.

Feeling the familiar slickness of saline tears stinging my eyes and cheeks, I pulled over, my vision already blurred enough from the storm. As I sat in the shoulder with only 37 minutes to go according to my GPS, I considered turning around and heading home. Pretending I had a different offer. I even let my mind wander to running off to a whole new state, falling off the map completely. I entertained that idea for a moment longer, I already had all my belongings packed in the back of my Toyota Camry. It wouldn't be hard to pretend I was just a young woman looking for a new life.

Feeling nostalgic, I took my wallet from my purse and pulled out the faded photograph. Holding it carefully in my hands, I turning it to the back, reading the faded sharpie marks.

"Honey,

Your father and I loved you so much. You should know that. This had nothing to do with you, nothing at all. I wish we could tell you why we did what we did, but there is no excuse great enough to make up for the years we will miss in your life. You have grown to become an exceptional young woman, and we will forever be proud of you, no matter what you choose.

Always in love,

Marie Ann Jets"

Putting it back in my wallet, I dropped my head in my hands and let myself sob for the first time in seven years. My hair fell in a brown curtain around my face, blocking me from the world outside my line of vision. I could almost pretend I was headed home after a long day at work. Pretend when I got there I would be greeted by a loving cat named Charlie.

Raising my head to the real world, I let out a laugh my psychiatrist would call my defence mechanism and shook my head, clearing my mind for the rest of the drive. As I pulled back onto the street, I followed the instructions and changed radio stations, even allowing myself to sing along to the song Cellphones by Jack's Mannequin.

With Gotham City rising from all sides, I couldn't help but the feeling of anger and well disguised hatred to grow as well. I was to be staying with famous batchelor and billionaire, Bruce Wayne. Shaking my head in disgust, I couldn't seem to wrap my head around the need for that much cash.

My phone dinged with the arrival of a message, cutting my ranting short. When I pulled my car to a stop at a read light on the outskirts of town, I looked at the message. It was short and sweet, straight to the point.

'Miss Jets, it is Bruce Wayne, I was wondering if you were going to make it here in time for dinner of if I should rather wait to order a pizza for when you come in.'

Shaking my head at the formality of it, I couldn't help another laugh. 'Miss' was such a strange title, especially for someone you had invited into your home. I typed a quick response saying I would be there in 20 minutes and would love to attend dinner before tossing my phone into the passenger seat and continuing my journey into the city.

Being an English Major, I couldn't help but trying to describe everything in perfect detail, comparing the life here to that in Boston. My hands on the wheel itched to feel my favorite pen wrapped in them, simply spilling my soul onto any sheet of paper. The traffic seemed slightly congested, appearing to be the leftovers of the 5 o'clock rush. The small streets and alleys branching off reminded me of the maps my father used to collect of olden day london, streets reaching in no particular direction like weeds to the sunlight.