Prince of Darkness ~ Gotham

~ Chapter Fifty One: Just the Alcohol Talking ~

The Whitstock sitting room was filled only with the sounds of raindrops pelting at the windows as Holly and Cara sat on the sofa, peering over their decks of cards at each other. A tiny smirk spread across Cara's lips before she looked back at her deck, contemplating her next move. "Do you have any fours?" Cara asked. Holly examined her cards for what felt like the hundredth time that night, and to her luck, Cara hadn't robbed her of one quite yet. "Nope. Do you have any sevens?" Holly looked up at her. Cara groaned as she reached into her deck, handing over the card.

"Do you mind if we take a break? My eyes are getting tired," Holly asked, setting her cards on the coffee table. Cara nodded as she yawned and looked towards the dimly lit fireplace. At the top of the mantel was a tiny clock, reading it was almost midnight. Their little game had been going on for about three hours now. "What round was this?" Cara asked. "I don't know, I lost count after the fourth," Holly chuckled. Cara sleepily smiled, burying her head into one of the cushions. A knock came from the closed door, and as Holly let out another yawn, she invited whoever was knocking inside.

"Miss Cara, Miss Gordon, I believe it's well past your bedtime," Florence said expectantly. "Okay, we were about to go upstairs anyway," Holly nodded while Cara sighed deeply, looking ready to pass out at any moment. "Goodnight, girls," Florence smiled before shutting the door and walking down the hall. As Holly and Cara trudged up the stairs to their rooms, Holly couldn't help but wonder how her mother was doing. Perhaps she was still in a drunken rage, or maybe she finally came to her senses and sobered up. She closed the guest bedroom door and leaned over to the bedside table where her phone sat charging, noticing the multiple text messages and voicemails.

A/n: Just want to give a quick trigger warning, there is going to be a bit of gaslighting, so if you're easily triggered or affected by that. Just skip a few paragraphs. 

The first couple of messages seemed to be normal, apologizing for the argument and begging to hear Holly's voice. But with every message Holly had yet to answer, Barbara grew more and more irritated. "Answer my damn calls!" One text read. Not even a minute later, Barbara had sent another one, "Fine, be that way, you little brat!" But the texts were just the beginning of Barbara's drunken breakdown, and the voicemails all but confirmed that Barbara was still not in the right frame of mind. "Wow, thanks so much for checking in on me to see if I'm still alive. I'm glad you did!" she snarled. 

Hearing the anger in her mother's voice made Holly feel as if she was still trapped in that bedroom, just waiting for her dad to pick her up. Even an hour away from the city, she still couldn't escape.  "I raised you, and this is how you repay me? You're a good for nothing, just like your worthless father!" Barbara shouted into the phone. "I swear to god, if you don't answer me, I'll make sure you never see him again!" Shut up! Just shut up! Holly's throat tightened as she fought back the urge to scream. "Really? You want to play that game? Whatever, have a fantastic night. Tell your dad's whore I said hi!" The final voicemail ended abruptly. 

It's just the alcohol talking, not her. Holly tried to remind herself, but she couldn't deny that her mother's threats did send a few chills down her spine. If she was taken away from her dad, who would protect her from the evil lurking in every corner of Gotham? After responding to her father's nightly check-in text, Holly crawled into bed and turned off the lights, hoping that tomorrow would be a better day. Her eyes grew heavier and heavier the more she got comfortable. And as she snuggled into her pillow, she finally fell asleep.