The Demon Of The Night [OUTDATED VERSION]

Nepenthes Bicalcarata

Barbara turned the page lazily, her eyes skimming the page. Usually, she highly enjoyed reading but reading about the rich families of Gotham was as uninteresting as it sounded.

The different family trees that somehow contributed to the city's founding and growth was not remarkable, especially considering who some of these people really were. Their wealth, their surname, and their connections were all just a cover- maybe even a safety net- for their crimes. These history books glorified them, making their victims seem unimportant. They weren't even afforded a footnote.

Barbara continued reading, seeing that it was more of the same stuff on the Isleys. However, something about this page made her straighten up and take a closer look.

The history on the Isleys abruptly ended with the marriage of their only child Pamela.

Pamela Lillian Isley, the only child of Marc and Rose Isley, was born May 2nd, 1872. Being a beautiful and affluent woman, it was expected she would marry the renowned surgeon and successor to his ancestral home, Thomas Wayne. Their engagement had been arranged by both families, but was unexpectedly retracted by Thomas. Embarrassed and insulted by this gesture, The Isleys hurriedly married their daughter off to acclaimed professor and botanist, Jason Woodrue in 1897. Shortly after, the couple moved to Seattle where Professor Woodrue was conducting research, remaining there for what is assumed the rest of their lives.

"Well, obviously there's more to the story." Barbara spun in the chair. "There's no mention of children, so if this is the same Pamela that would make her....79 years old?!" She quickly covered her mouth, realizing she was still in a library.

The encounter at the mansion confirmed this based on what Pamela hinted at about "getting away with it for many, many years" and the portraits.

Especially the portraits.

"You bitch," Barbara hissed as she shut the book and cast it aside. Though the thought of writing this newfound material down in her notebook crossed her mind, it would be futile. There was nothing that could be done with this information.

There was no one who could help her because no one would believe her. She hardly believed any of it herself.

Plus, the book would probably disappear the next day or a mysterious fire would break out in the library. These people were always one step ahead of her.

And the girl had no idea how to catch up.

~

Barbara opened the door with a forced smile, greeting Sarah Essen as she stepped in with a dish of mashed potatoes.

"Hi, Barbara! It smells good in here!" The woman smiled back.

"Yeah, it sure does. Oh, let me carry that for you." Barbara took the dish from her as they walked over to the kitchen.

"Is your dad burning the turkey?" Sarah laughed.

"Probably." Barbara chuckled back. She set the mashed potatoes to the side, listening to her dad welcome the woman. They continued talking as Barbara gathered the plates and utensils, oblivious to the girl's silence.

"So, Barbara." Sarah turned her attention from James. "Are you still in contact with Richard?"

Barbara's knife cut into the turkey with a stab. "No. I'm not."

"Oh, that's too bad. Your father told me about you two and I saw you both that night at the ball. You looked like a lovely couple." Sarah took a bite of her turkey.

"Tell that to Mr. Wayne." Barbara rolled her eyes, taking a sip from her glass.

"What is that supposed to mean?" James lowered his utensils.

"He told me not to come near Richard because I was an ill-suited match and would be a distraction," she muttered.

"He said that?" Sarah's eyes widened. "I cannot believe he would be so blunt!"

"Who does he think he is? To insult you because he didn't approve-" James pushed his chair back with an angry screech.

"James..." Sarah warned.

"No, that was just unwarranted. I can understand his concern, but to talk down to my daughter like that!" James shook his head.

"Maybe that's why she struck him," Sarah suggested, surprising Barbara. 

"Was that the true reason?" James glanced at his daughter. "Has that been the root cause of this erratic behavior?"

"I-I don't know," Barbara sighed. "It could be. It's not like it matters anymore. I am over it. Can we just get back to our dinner?"

The adults dropped the topic, continuing to eat their meal in silence now. Barbara could only stare at them as images of the bodies and blood at the Isley mansion invaded her mind. Every bite they took made her cringe. Each time their knife cut into the meat made her wince. And all their sips made her want to gag. Panic was beginning to set in and the urge to hyperventilate was steadily increasing.

"Excuse me, but I think I feel sick." Barbara rushed off to her room, holding her stomach as she climbed the stairs.