Batman: The Promise

Chapter 8: Nightmare, Cave, Coffee

She was running down a hallway. Her feet padded on concrete; twisting, loss of control. Her balance shifted and her brain was melting. She was shifting, being pulled into a black hole that sucked her in. She couldn’t run anymore, the hallway tilted to its side as she collapsed to the wall. The pain was real, a lucid punch of reality that sent aching, deep reverberations in her shoulder, shaking, aching the bone. She caught the wall and saw the twisting, spiral shape. A neon clown, laughing deeply, a cackling brought forth from the bellow, a rustic whining of edged laughter that terrified her.

At the end of the hallway there came light, billowing out and spreading towards her. She felt the purple of it blind her and raised her hand. The shape at the end was tall, with pointed ears, and her eyes widened as she ran towards it, trying to handle the spiral of the ever-twisting walls. Everything was swirling, and there came that deep laughter, the gut-wrenching cackle as she ran towards the light. The Bat. His pointed ears were a dead giveaway as she ran towards the end, to the doorway, to safety.
The air was humid, burning through lucidity, sobriety edging distant like a ghostly mirage as she reached the silhouette. She fell towards it, and reached out. The pain spread through her body as she reached, her fingers splayed. If she fell, she needed only to feel his feet, to know she was close to her savior. When her fingers felt the soft, leather touch of them they pulled away from them like hot coals. She looked up. The shape bent down out of the light; pale skin, red mouth with two hands up on his face, the two index fingers spread out upwards.

“I’m here to save you,” he said; the bony features familiar, the drawl a demonic stretch of inflection, like a death gurgle that droned on. “Harleeeey.”

She clawed her way backwards. Her rear dragged against the concrete as he lurched forward, his purple pinstriped suit melting into the floor. He stumbled towards her, his legs cracked. His face dripping with white dye, plopping onto the concrete in thick globules as she crawled backwards. Her breath had abandoned her, and she crawled backwards, pushing out microbes of oxygen, daring not to draw breath in. The monster clawed for her with one arm, bobbing like a puppet on a string; the black eyes dribbled like candle wax down the cheeks.
“Harrllleeeeyyy. My little psycho—my little clown princessssssss.”
She sucked in air, feeling the Sulphur on her tongue. She crawled back, tears falling, burning, and evaporating in the humidity as she opened her mouth to scream. A waxy claw reached out, crooked, a monstrous twist of limbs that dripped with intent, they stretched out; each finger clicking in muffled succession. It swiped at her, missed. She crawled back. Oh my God. Please. Don’t let him get me.

Hands slid around her chest, pushing against her breasts. She felt the sudden vacuum of cold air, and the hallway morphed around her, flying past at the speed of light, and then there came blackness and the twinkling of stars. She was stood alone, the floor beneath her a black reflection, and stars, dappled across the sky. The hands upon her breasts let go, and then the booming, echoing voice echoed out.

“You’re okay, Harley. Lay down.”

“I’m trapped. I’m always trapped. I can’t see anything but him.”

“Look up, what do you see?”

The dappled sky spread with mist, tearing away. Jagged lines that reminded her of old TVs spread across as she squinted. Her breath returned; the oddly inviting aroma of dampness and darkness. No laughter, no bright colors to singe her eyes. She looked up at the mist, scouring the portal and seeing jagged rocks, and tiny black teardrops that squeaked, moving every so often to splay their wings and rub at themselves.

“Bats. I see bats, and rocks—I smell old water.”

“What do you hear, Harley?”

“I hear water—rushin’ water like a waterfall.”