"What small tragedies their lives had turned out to be." - Ashley Flowers, All Good People Here
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"Lady Wayne," Alfred greeted as he walked into the kitchen, "I thought you'd left already."
The early morning sun cast a orange glow through the windows in the room, her damp hair had a golden sheen in the lighting with her back turned to him.
"Nope," Bird glanced over her shoulder at the him as she stirred the sugar into her cup of hot tea, "Still here."
He was glad to see she'd cleaned off the paint and blood from her face and washed the sprayed on temporary color from her hair.
She looked human again, no longer like a performer at a twisted carnival as she had hours earlier.
"I can see that," His voice trailed off. Frayed at the end and left an open invitation for her to unload whatever it was that was weighing so heavily on her mind.
When she didn't, Alfred took his time pouring the steaming water from the kettle into another mug to make a cup of tea for himself.
They stood in silence as the tea steeped in the water, the tannin spreading out from the submerged leaves.
"Well," He cleared his throat, "Out with it."
Bird bit down on the inside of her cheek.
He knew she'd had something on her mind that was bothering her -only she didn't know where to begin.
There was no shortage of thoughts bouncing around in her mind, tangled up with invisible weights and pressing down on her shoulders.
Mainly it was the what ifs.
So, so many what ifs. The paths not taken. Choices that were both thrust up on her and stolen away.
Stirring up the tea to dissolve the sugar granules she'd sweetened it with, Bird looked around the room again.
The large kitchen that wasn't near as grand as the rest of the manor.
Back then the sprawling estate was first built, the Waynes of that era probably never stepped a foot in the kitchen.
It wasn't built for show like the formal dining rooms, no -this was built solely for staff.
The hands of time spun back in her mind.
The table was no longer empty, she could see her parents at the table with her younger brother.
A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
They didn't dine in the kitchen very often, usually in the main dining room, but whenever they'd order pizza or get take out -they'd usually just eat in the kitchen.
Bird always liked those dinner nights more. The casualness of it all. How her dad would spend the night out of his study and opt for family time instead. Usually dinner would be followed up by watching a movie together, or playing a board game.
The happy memory turned on end and shot a pang of guilt through her system; the smile fell from her lips.
She wondered how many more of those nights she could have had if she hadn't started butting heads with them both so often in her teenage years.
Family nights were the last thing on earth she wanted to do.
She'd opt for sneaking out and running wild around the city instead.
Sometimes even just taking a couple of slices of pizza to her room and claim she was too busy to watch a movie or games.
Only the pain hit a little different this time.
Usually when the uncomfortable itch of nostalgia would start up, she'd feel like the villain of the story. See her family cast in a halo of lighting and herself a shadow.
YOU ARE READING
Devil's Playground • Gotham Fanfiction •
Fanfiction"Sometimes you have to just sit back and watch people destroy themselves." Bird's own words after watching her biological mother die. Little did she know that apparently it was something she'd inherited. Maybe that's just part of the madness of life...
