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Description
This was it.

I was standing between two people that had more control over me and either way, someone would get hurt. On one side, a man I thought I loved left me as a pawn on his chessboard in his game against good. On the other side, a man I thought who loved me, but couldn’t trust me, despite my efforts to take his heart. I was the wild card, I was the joke, I was what he needed. All I had in my hands was a gun. My hands were trembling against the trigger and sweat dripped down my temple, wiping the white makeup from my face. I could feel the chain on my ankle get tighter the longer I waited to decide where to shoot. I could feel the cool breeze from the cold radiation room against my skin from my torn tights, a line of trickling blood crawling down my thigh.

He was limp, but despite his strength underneath his black cape of dignity, I could feel the pleading from the soft gaze that he gave me. I couldn’t tell what words were masked behind his eyes, vulnerability perhaps? A lack of hope? Emptiness? How could such a man take this brutality? He was the hero that Gotham needed, but one was whispering in my ear, pulling my strings, ordering my every move.

“Go on Pumpkin, it’s for your own good as well as Gotham’s. No one needs him anymore. No one is going to care that he is gone.” His grin vibrated against the walls, shuddering me, but I felt guilty since those words seduced me. Maybe this was just another one of his jokes. He could never hurt him. He said so himself from time to time that if he ever killed him, the fun would be over. Life would be boring. His time would be unfulfilled. It was just a game, one shot and maybe the fight would just continue and I’m just an intermission. Maybe he could be saved, maybe he could escape.

There was a light click, setting up the trigger for a shot. I looked around the room, noticing the machines he was tied to, the humming of the extreme radiating machine that would possibly burn him to a crisp, the chains clanging on the cold ground. I felt his hand on my shoulder, him breathing down my neck; it was something I loved about him, the way he caressed me, but not like this! I have a conscious, something he couldn’t understand! The Dark Knight sees the soul inside me, doesn’t he?

Is there something I am missing? What is it? What is the card that will be dealt to me? I looked up at the ceiling, where a small crack of light shined through and suddenly I had my answer. I gripped the gun, the sweat stopped dripping and the trigger fired. There was no going back now, not with this feeling inside, there was nothing they could change.

I had my chance.

Description
This was it.

I was standing between two people that had more control over me and either way, someone would get hurt. On one side, a man I thought I loved left me as a pawn on his chessboard in his game against good. On the other side, a man I thought who loved me, but couldn’t trust me, despite my efforts to take his heart. I was the wild card, I was the joke, I was what he needed. All I had in my hands was a gun. My hands were trembling against the trigger and sweat dripped down my temple, wiping the white makeup from my face. I could feel the chain on my ankle get tighter the longer I waited to decide where to shoot. I could feel the cool breeze from the cold radiation room against my skin from my torn tights, a line of trickling blood crawling down my thigh.

He was limp, but despite his strength underneath his black cape of dignity, I could feel the pleading from the soft gaze that he gave me. I couldn’t tell what words were masked behind his eyes, vulnerability perhaps? A lack of hope? Emptiness? How could such a man take this brutality? He was the hero that Gotham needed, but one was whispering in my ear, pulling my strings, ordering my every move.

“Go on Pumpkin, it’s for your own good as well as Gotham’s. No one needs him anymore. No one is going to care that he is gone.” His grin vibrated against the walls, shuddering me, but I felt guilty since those words seduced me. Maybe this was just another one of his jokes. He could never hurt him. He said so himself from time to time that if he ever killed him, the fun would be over. Life would be boring. His time would be unfulfilled. It was just a game, one shot and maybe the fight would just continue and I’m just an intermission. Maybe he could be saved, maybe he could escape.

There was a light click, setting up the trigger for a shot. I looked around the room, noticing the machines he was tied to, the humming of the extreme radiating machine that would possibly burn him to a crisp, the chains clanging on the cold ground. I felt his hand on my shoulder, him breathing down my neck; it was something I loved about him, the way he caressed me, but not like this! I have a conscious, something he couldn’t understand! The Dark Knight sees the soul inside me, doesn’t he?

Is there something I am missing? What is it? What is the card that will be dealt to me? I looked up at the ceiling, where a small crack of light shined through and suddenly I had my answer. I gripped the gun, the sweat stopped dripping and the trigger fired. There was no going back now, not with this feeling inside, there was nothing they could change.

I had my chance.