But You Can Call Me Gotham (#JustWriteIt #FreshStart) [COMPLETED]

Chapter 9: Misunderstood and Blood

It's amazing how someone can annoy someone without noticing.

Gotham and Simon sat in silence for hours. Gotham sat high in her tree, while Simon sat at the base of the tree.

Gotham watched him pick at his nails and pull at the grass.

He's so young and yet he always knows what to say to make me feel awful about myself.

"Sooo..." Simon attempted at conversation.

Gotham didn't answer. She didn't know what to say.

Gotham was thinking.

She was thinking about when she had gone into her parents room. She missed them. She missed having fun with them and getting hugs from them and going to the park with them. She missed not hating them.

Her parents didn't hate them. They never did. In fact, they chose them over Gotham.

Gotham barely remembered her parents. The pictures rang a bell but she couldn't for the life of her--though what's that worth, anyway?--remember the sound of their voices, or their pet peeves or how they fidgeted. She couldn't remember their bad habits or their good habits and she definitely couldn't remember who she spent more time with.

She had liked her mom. She had cooked for them and put her to bed and comforted her when she was sad. She had taken her clothes shopping and had cut her hair, and had even made her a dress or two for winter. She was the warm one. Whenever they watched movies together, Gotham was in the middle and her mother had shared her popcorn with her.

Her dad had secretly added M&M's to the bucket of popcorn. Gotham loved that.

They used to take her to the ice cream shop down the road from the park, too. All the time.

She had really liked her dad, too. He had told her stories and played with her and had been the fun one. And he didn't judge anyone else.

Gotham wasn't sure why he had chosen her mother's choice over her. He had loved her and cared for her and said he'd never leave. He took care of the other kids in the park when their parents weren't paying attention and overall he was a caring man. Maybe she forced him?

She knew one thing though, her dad was nothing like Simon's dad.

After a whole lot a thinking, five words escaped from her mind and out her mouth and into the ears below her.

"I don't like your dad," Gotham said out loud.

"What? Why not?"

"He treats me the way they do."

"You know what? You're terrible!" Simon yelled. "I never want to see you again!"

"Y-you what?"

"I hate you! You only say mean things about me or my dad!"

It hurt. What he had said.

"Wh...what?" Gotham asked.

"You heard me," Simon seethed.

Gotham was frozen. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes.

It was the first time she had cried in front of them since they took her parents.

****

It's amazing how a few words can really hurt someone, even if the person who said them didn't mean what they said.

Gotham cried and cried, and she ran from the park to her house, slamming the door on her way in. She fell to the ground, leaning against the door for support and holding her head in her hands.

I'm an awful human being, Gotham thought. He's right. I do only talk bad about people.

She couldn't understand how she had believed that Simon cared for her.

It was a trick. I knew it. I shouldn't have let him in. They were using him, his father was using him. They tricked him. He never cared for me. And now he knows my secret. I can never show my face to him again. I was never really his friend. And now I have to do something or else I'll get hurt even more.

She tried to get up off of the hard, dirty floor, but she didn't have enough strength. She just fell back down.

She tried again, but failed, and instead decided on crawling to the kitchen.

She didn't want to be here anymore. She contemplated locking herself in her house till she died but she remembered that Simon now knew where she lived. And if he knows, they know, so she couldn't just do that.

Maybe she could fake her death and live here all alone. She'd never be bothered by Simon, even if he'd feel guilty. But if he came to her house just to make sure, she'd be in an awful situation. She'd have to explain herself, and he might rat her out. She could never be safe. But if someone sold the house to someone else, she'd be found out.

She could literally die, maybe kill herself. She wouldn't hurt anyone if she did that. No one loved her. Simon was a fake. He wouldn't care one bit.

She ran to the bathroom, taking the biggest knife there was. There she lay, in the tub, sobbing and looking at the knife through the tears.

She ran her fingers over it and winced. There was the first drop of blood on the bathtub.

I should be dead. He never really meant it when he said I should be alive.

Plunk. Droplets of blood from her hands fell to the floor, staining the porcelain pink.

I shouldn't be alive anymore.

Drip drip. They kept falling and falling, more and more, but it wasn't enough for her.

If I stab myself it'll do the job quickly.

Then, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, Gotham jabbed the knife into her stomach.

Everything swayed. It hurt like hell, but she couldn't do anything about it now. She figured she made the right choice.

Her ears started ringing and her vision started blurring.

He's better off without me...

"I'm sorry, Simon," she sobbed.

She swore she could hear him answer, "For what?"

And so she replied, "This."

Her eyes closed then, and as she took her final breath, she swore she could hear someone screaming in the distance.