Crazy For You ∆Under Construction∆

8.Pity Party

*Just gonna forewarn you guys that I haven't looked this over at all, so this is extremely unedited. if you catch anything feel free to speak and let me know, it would actually help me out a lot! Thanks and enjoy!*

Just a few blocks east of the bank is Gotham's shopping district, not your Friday afternoon mall but your upscale Malibu row of shops. I could probably blow an entire year's worth of pay on a bra on the cheapest joint there. I can't even afford to walk on but it's a nice, long strip of pavement to walk without worrying about being crept up on.

At this time of night, all the shops are closed, so I've got the entire boulevard to myself as I stroll the pavement and stare at the mannequins on display. I'm not really paying any mind to the fabrics or price tags, instead I find my mind dwells on the events that occurred what felt like a lifetime ago. An entire two weeks had passed without a single word from him and I'd become restless to the point where those memories no longer had the same effect. It would seem that Gotham's Clown Prince is completely done with me and I couldn't help feeling it was my own damn fault.

Perhaps I pushed the boundaries too far, gotten to close for his comfort and now he just prefered not to have me around. I guess I just let myself get stupid and moonstruck over that once in a lifetime opportunity, so desperate to keep it for as long as I could only to lose it. When I'm in his presence, there was this fear of course, but along with that fear came this overpowering want (almost a need ) to be close to him. Meeting The Joker in person, the pain he inflicted upon me, and discovering his deadly, often unpredictable, personality traits did nothing to shake my fascination. If anything, that deadly fascination with him only grew more intense making it so see isn't enough: I need to feel. I wanted to hold some part of so that I can know this is real and not dream.

In a span of a single breath, my emotions could morph from a melted mess of warm and fuzzy feeling to pull my hair from the roots. But that's was part of the allure, I guess, what kept me hooked so that instead of counting his absence as a blessing it drove me absolutely. I suppose it's because old habits die hard and despite the vows after the inferno, stimulation is something I craved every second of life. Subconsciously, I know what I was hoping for when I started working at the bank, but my hopes were soon destroyed because even though it's located smack in the center of everything, it just doesn't get robbed.

It's Gotham's number one bank for a reason, no one is allowed through the front door without clearance and thats works both ways: coming in and going out. The fact is, no one sane or otherwise, would dare to try breaking into it. So that meant I spent every day listening to a clock hand ticking and tucking off the walls in mind numbing agony.

I don't want calm, I don't want routine and most of all, I don't want to be so easily forgotten. Give me chaos and raging seas of darkness, give me disaster with a smile, I will literally take anything over the hell like sentence of suburban life.

I look to the skies, black even though I know there are thousands upon thousands of stars up there, the neon signs and LED lights shine too brightly and blot them from the sky. That's the view you get when you live in a city and the lack of stars actually makes me miss the hell I once called home.

"Can I get just a lil' more crazy?" I jokingly address the invisible stars.

Seconds after the words leave my mouth, a loud crash shatters the silence followed by rising voices. I can't help laughing, glancing at the sky once more in amazement before heading towards the commotion. The noise source turns out to be an amateur act of vandalism by a group of teens likely to be Gotham's next generation of convicts. I observe them safely tucked behind a corner and out of sight to see what's going on.