Your blanket was ripped off you, the cold air shook you out of your sleep.
Before you could even comprehend what was happening, you felt your pocket knife roughly snatched from your grasp.
Scared and confused, you scurried to the corner of your bed, your breathing quick and your body shaking as you looked up at your perpetrator.
Arthur looked down at the knife in his hand, then back up at you.
"What is this..."
"Were you keeping this because of me?"
"Are you scared of me?"
Tears began to gather in your eyes, your entire body trembling with fear.
"No, no it's just the protests outside. I-I thought maybe - I thought that maybe someone would break in, you know? Maybe I would need to protect us, you know? Just put the knife down Arthur-"
"You are scared of me."
The edges of your mouth twisted into a frown against your will, and you began to cry.
Arthur sighed, looking down at the knife again.
"You should've said yes to dinner."
Your eyes widened as he switched the blade open. Your hands went up, trying to protect yourself.
"Arthur, please. Arthur. PLEASE."
Before you realized it, the knife was in your stomach.
You shot up from your bed, panting. Your hair and pajamas were completely soaked with sweat. You quickly rifled through your blankets, looking for your knife. Once you found it, you sighed in relief, holding it close to you.
Wait. You forgot about Arthur.
Slowly, you turned your head towards the couch.
It was empty.
"Arthur?" you called out.
No response.
Carefully, you slid one foot off the bed. Then the other. You approached the couch, only to find that Arthur truly wasn't there. Where did he go?
You turned towards your kitchen, where you spotted a small piece of paper on your counter. You scurried over, picking up the note and squinting at it.
Sorry about last nite.
I will explane what happend later.
Thanks for lettting me sleep over.
Arthur.
You read it over a few times, noticing the misspellings and child-like handwriting. You pressed it against your forehead, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.
You didn't know what to think. Arthur was good to you. But was he good? You didn't know him long enough to tell. Or were you letting your mind wander too far? Arthur hadn't shown any signs of being a violent person. Very much the opposite, actually. Maybe you were letting your stress and assumptions get the best of you.
As you looked at this note, you really couldn't convince yourself that Arthur was a bad person. Maybe he was just having a bad night. You were admittedly also a bit rattled by the protest you almost ran into as well.
You had seen how people treated Arthur first-hand. That was probably only the tip of the iceberg. He said he would tell you what happened later, it was probably fine.
You switched your TV to today's news while you went about your morning routine.
After showering and brushing your teeth, you wandered to your refrigerator and pulled it open.
No more bread.
You sighed, picking up one of several jars of jam Arthur had given you. You looked at it, smiling as you walked to your couch and sat. You couldn't help but think your previous suspicions were silly while you looked at the jar. You remembered how tiny it looked in his hands, how excited he was to give each jar to you. Could that same man commit any serious crime? You doubted it.
"We're getting reports of a murder on the subway last night. Three young men working under our current mayor were found fatally shot on the 6 line."
You sat up.
"Two bodies were left on the cart, the third was found on the platform steps at East 77th Street in Parkchester. The criminal is currently on the loose. Gotham citizens are advised to avoid the line until he is brought into custody."
Could it be? No, there was no way. Arthur was harmless.
He was harmless...
Work was the same as it always was. But your head wasn't exactly "in the game" tonight. You sat some walk-in guests at reserved tables. More than a few drink orders were swapped by you. You tried to focus, you really did, but you sincerely couldn't concentrate. Nearly everyone asked you if something was wrong that day.
"No, why?"
You placed some now-empty glasses on the bar, and pushed them forward.
Lucy squinted at you as she pulled them under the counter, wiping down the area they occupied.
You rested your hands on the counter, twiddling your fingers. What was Arthur going to tell you tonight? Was he going to confess being a murderer to you? Surely these thoughts were stupid. For Christ's sake, this was Arthur you were thinking about. He wasn't exactly the most intimidating or confrontational person you've met. Especially by Gotham standards.
"I don't know, you just seem out of it tonight. You want me to find someone to cover the rest of your shift? Maybe you should rest a little." Lucy leaned across the bar, poking between her teeth with a toothpick.
You shook your head.
"I'm alright. I just need to wake up, I didn't get enough sleep."
She rolled her eyes. "Suit yourself. Anyways, Mike says we got a ton of those new bottles I told you about coming in soon. Said the vodka's straight from Russia, but honestly I don't believe a word that old man says. Like he expects us to believe he's paying Gotham-level rent for this place, but he's buying imported liquor? Yeah, okay. You're still up for drinking when that stuff comes in, right? I'm telling you, last time we got a major refill the entire staff was out of commission for DAYS. You can't miss it, it's... Holy shit."
Lucy's mouth was suddenly agape, her toothpick falling to the counter.
You groaned, "If you're ogling another random guy, Lucy..."
"No, no look..." she continued. Her eyes were trained forward to the stage. She swatted your arm a few times, trying to get you to turn around.
"Isn't that...?"
You let out an exasperated sigh, ready to see another average looking guy sitting in a tight shirt behind you. Lucy was nice, but God she could be annoying. You swiveled your stool around, nearly falling off of it once you saw who was about to perform.
Arthur nervously shook the host's hand, timidly approaching the microphone. Your heart was pounding like a mallet on a drum.
What was he doing here? He didn't tell you he was going to perform. Was this meant to be a surprise? Maybe he just forgot to tell you after the events of last night. This was much sooner than you expected to see him. You were so confused. You wondered what kind of person would be fine getting on a stage not even a full day after being battered to the state he was in. But then again, this was Arthur. And Arthur was certainly not a regular person.
He stuttered a few times into the microphone. He was sweating, and breathing heavily.
Oh no, Arthur, don't...
You buried your face in your palms, terrified to watch what you were sure would be a disaster. There was no way the crowd here would take kindly to him being on stage.
Suddenly, he laughed. He laughed hard, and forcibly.
At first, everyone laughed along with him.
But then he didn't stop.
Slowly, the laughter from the crowd began to die down. You winced. You silently prayed that Arthur would say something. Anything. But he kept laughing, he couldn't stop.
"Oh boy. I knew that laughing guy wasn't gonna be good, but I didn't think it'd be this bad," Lucy whispered to you.
You didn't respond, you weren't able to. Your eyes were stuck on Arthur like you were watching a car crash - it was terrible, but you couldn't bring yourself to look away. Your eyes flickered around the room. People began whispering to each other, and you were positive none of it was good. You wondered if Arthur could hear them, and you hoped beyond hope that he couldn't.
"Give me a shot," you croaked.
Lucy turned to you, her eyebrows nearly rising off her face.
"Woah, what?"
"I said give me a fucking shot," you demanded. You turned to her, holding your hand out.
"Jesus, okay, okay. Relax." She poured some clear liquor into two small glasses, holding one up to you. "Can't have you drinking alone."
You begrudgingly clinked your glass against hers, slamming it down in an instant. You winced, the strong-tasting liquid burning every inch of your throat. You coughed a few times, rubbing your neck.
"I take it you don't drink much." Lucy smirked, chuckling at your difficulty taking it down.
"I just need to get through this shift."