A complicated past (Ghost x Y/n )

"Who's is the betrayer? The one who creeps in corridors & doesn't make a sound"

Song- Heavy in your arms by Florence + The Machine ( I'm trying something knew by basing the title off a line from the songs I chose that encompass the chapter. I'm unsure about it, so let me know what you guys think about it. Please!!!)

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Had Gotham been a real city, this place would have given it a real run for its money. A place truly unlike any other, where criminals came to hide and the worst of the worst came to govern it.

No one was on the right side of the law here, especially the law itself. In fact, they ran the biggest criminal organization in the city. Politicians and police or as everyone else called them, the mobsters in suits.

Sure, each city had its few bad apples but none of them were completely owned and ruled by them, unlike this one.

If you only lived by two rules here, these two were the most important
1. Never, call the police for help. They didn't enforce laws here, they made their own.
2. Never, under any circumstance, no matter how desperate you are, find yourself in the pocket of a politician.

Signing on their dotted line meant loaning out your life as collateral and they always came to collect.

Whether it was now or years later, they'd be knocking on your doorstep with just one more job. Then one more turned into three, then five, and the only way it stopped was at the end of the barrel of a gun.

Maybe, just maybe if your parents had known these rules earlier, you wouldn't be the one paying for their grievances while they rotted in two six-foot graves.

Smoothing the black dress down, you push your hair out of your face and send one final prayer to whoever would listen.

Good and evil was a line well past blurred in a place like this and you couldn't afford to be picky.

Both Gods and devils granted favors, the only difference is what it would cost you in return.

By the end of the night, please don't let me walk out of that ballroom alive.

The sound of your frantic heartbeat was an unwelcome surprise as it echoed throughout your eardrum.

After everything that's happened, after every awful thing you've done, you were convinced you hadn't had a heart to begin with.

It was the only explanation for the absence of feelings you had in situations you absolutely should have felt something in. The fear, horror, regret, and guilt, never came, just emptiness. Coldness, maybe? But by now, you had become so used to the cold it was second nature.

You always thought it strange, the way people rubbed their arms up and down their clothes to attract heat. Some shivered with fewer layers on and you couldn't quite understand why you weren't like them. Unlike the others, your body didn't shake in the ash-colored snow that fell during the winter months, the need for a jacket was never an issue, your body finding its own body heat uncomfortable sometimes.

Walking out of the bathroom, you head toward the ballroom across the hall, watching the Mayor viciously adjusting the cuffs of his suit.

Quickly, you fight to hide the smirk threatening to cross your face. In the years since being in his company, he's grown bored of punishing you for your little acts of defiance, because otherwise, he would never have time to wreak havoc on this city.

The clack of your heels seemed to get louder the closer you got to him, while the sound of your heartbeat seemed to disappear all at once.

"You're fucking late."

"Sorry, I was given short notice. Maybe, if you hadn't killed the pretty blonde you were seeing, she could have come with you instead."

Roughly pulling your arm to wrap around his, his eyes meet yours in a warning. Had they always been that empty, that dark, soulless pit of blackness? "Watch the tone. I expect you to be on your best behavior tonight. Am I clear?"