Borderline Insane (editing soon!)

Chap 1: How I Met Jerome Valeska

With nothing but the dead of darkness surrounding me and my shallow breaths filling the confined space, I sit with my hands bound and mouth covered with tape in a classroom closet. I tried not to make much noise as an attempt to hear what was happening outside, but being that I'm crying and getting all snotty, I'm finding it difficult to do so. The thought of suffocation terrifies me.
I notice through the small slither of light shining beneath the door, a figure pass by, along with the muffled sounds of movement.

Actually, you may be a little confused, so I'll take you back to the beginning.

The year is 1972 and I'm 10 years old. My mother, yet again, is dragging me to the gymnasium. "Just come on. You'll thank me in the future" she says, cigarette clinging on in between her lips.

We finally arrived. "GOTHAM CITIES GYMNASIUM FOR GIRLS" the sign reads big, bold, and black above the building. I walk in, getting a cold chill down my spine seeing all the older, more mature girls doing splits and what not.
God.
All the girls here were so annoying. When they weren't busy talking to each other about how many calories they've eaten last night, they were on their fancy portable phones nearly the size of their heads calling their boyfriends. I stare at them, filled with jealousy and a slither of rage. I want to grow up already. I want to be able to make my own decisions.
"This sucks" I say out loud. My mother turns to me, places her hand on my shoulder and scolds me.

"Don't matter if it sucks. Yer' lucky I'm ev'n lettin you stay here. Maybe you'll make some friends er somthin, who cares. You gotta stay here 'cause our baby sitter skipped out on us again." she said, sniffing and rubbing the bottom of her nose.

"But I'm too old for a baby sitter!"

"No you're not. You're only 10 years old, Harleen. Now stop complaining and go do something productive 'fore I take you to yer uncles. And you know how yer uncle likes ta get touchy feel-y...." she lowers her head.
I watch as she walks out the door, waving to Ms. Gallimor, the manager of the gymnasium, also her best friend.

My mother wasn't particularly a good person. She usually came home late, completely drunk (or high) with a new guy almost every time. She would always yell at me, hitting me with anything suitable she finds nearby. One time I stayed up a little late, till 12 o'clock because my mother didn't return home at her usual time so I assumed she was staying at someone's house.
Wrong I was, though. She came in, furious as a saltwater crocodile. When she spotted me on the couch, she looked down at her watch, then back at me and began stomping towards me, breathing heavily and swaying with her steps. She accidentally broke her empty beer bottle on the edge of the table as she wobbled her way over, nearly tripping and smashing the bottle on the table as she caught herself. Glancing to the sharp glass she held in her hand, she finally placed the pointy edges below my chin and scowled at me. Her breathe reeked of many alcohols. "What the fffUck are you doing up this god damn late young—YOUNG LADY?! Youuuuu are supposed to be asleep!" She stops talking and begins to cry. Roughly a minute passes and she finally breaks the silence. "I do so much to make other people happy, and I get nothing in return. NOTHING!" She looks up at me, walks barely 20 feet away from me and just stops , crying out again. Then suddenly, she begins laughing. "You know, I know yOUUUR little sssecret t t... You tried to hide it from me, but I know. Ha-ha... I've known for quite some time..."
The room fills with silence once again as she lowers her hands from her soaked and puffy eyes.
"I know... That you're the one who's been killing all the neighbours cats... I found their bodies buried in the back yard. And I know you're the one who-- who killed my b-baby... You got jealous of em' so you s-so-suffocated him.... " she stuttered out.
Her back turned to me still, she begins laughing even louder.
"HE WAS YOUR LITTLE BROTHER, HARLEEN! AND HE WAS ONLY 2 MONTHS OLD!............. You're lucky I haven't sent you to Arkham Asylum."
She twists around to me, putting on a fake grin. My cheeks glistened from tears but I just stared blank-faced at her, clenching my fists, and she stared back. Finally, the river of words being held back finally broke through the dam and forced their way out.
"I.... I know you didn't want him either, mom." I spoke. "You complained about how much he cried. About how expensive he would be. I killed him for you.... Mom." I took pause when I noticed the grin starting to form on her face.
She laughed, looking down to her feet. She then looked back up to me, frown plastered on her face, and threw the broken bottle at me, gashing my forearm as it hurled into me. She screamed, flipped a chair, then ran off to her room and slammed the door. And with blood pouring from my arm, I gripped tightly to the wound, my teeth gritting as I looked to the floor that was being stained red as the blood leaked out and dripped from my fingers.