One Night To Change It All

Chapter 9

Present

When Bruce woke up the next morning, his eyes were still a bit red and he was in pain. He had slept on the bathroom's floor, leaning against the wall because there was hardly any place to fully lay down. He shivered, he was cold too. That place was anything but comfortable. The only good thing about being in a bathroom was the toilet and the sink. He had been able to use those as he wanted at least. He was hungry, though, his stomach tormented him. He touched his ear again, grazing it with his fingers. He felt immediate pain and stopped, not wanting to worsen the wound or anything. His arm was better, but still sore: he took off his vest and lifted his sleeve to look at the wound. It didn't seem infected.

He saw a ray of light and heard some noises through the door; it was pretty quiet, though. He thought about yesterday's events again and felt his guts contort. All those dead people...And he probably had seen only half of them! He thought of Bullock and wondered whether or not he was still alive. And Alfred? Selina? Jeremiah? Gordon? Were they all alright? He heard the door open and saw Jerome entering. He was slightly blinded at first by the daylight. His red hair was a bit messy, and he was wearing a simple tee-shirt, obviously, he just woke up. Bruce's eyes narrowed slightly:

"What do you want?"

Jerome huffed, half-annoyed, half-amused: "No 'Hello'?"

Bruce didn't give any reply and just watched him right in the eyes. His captor just theatrically rolled his eyes and crouched to look at him: "If you want to skip the morning talk, fine, I'll get straight to the point: where is Jeremiah?

This was like a punch in the stomach, Bruce's eyes widened slightly. He wanted to find Jeremiah? Of course he did, he should have expected that. "I don't know."

"Oh really? You're not a very good liar, Bruce."

The best liars always tell the truth. That was something Selina told him once. He had a few ideas of where Jeremiah could be, but he couldn't reveal that to Jerome. He had to find something: "Jeremiah isn't stupid enough to stay in one place, waiting for you to get him. Last time he called me, he told me he was in a safe place, he didn't say where, though."

Jerome thought about that. It was logical; in fact, he wouldn't be surprised if Jeremiah was under police protection. It was very likely for him to go and play the weepy victim to be protected from him. Police protection...He looked at Bruce, and saw fear in the boy's eyes. Jerome suddenly put his hands against the wall, at each side of Bruce's head, blocking any chance of exit. The boy backed away as much as he could, feeling almost nauseous. He couldn't muster the strength to look at him in the eyes anymore. Bruce wasn't afraid, no, he was terrified.

"Oh, come on, Bruce! Look at me."

Bruce tensed even more but he forced himself to stare right in Jerome's eyes. He couldn't let fear overtake him, he had to be brave. If he refused to look at him, he would be a coward. Jerome's eyes had a dark playfulness; he had to escape this, what could he do? Jerome's cupped the right side of his neck and Bruce hissed as if he got burned.

"Let go of me."

"Why would I do that? I'm enjoying myself," replied the redhead while grazing the skin with his thumb.

"I know what you want, and I don't want it."

Jerome had a malicious smirk. "You were less scared yesterday when you got knives thrown at you. I think I found a big weakness. Tell me, what could I do, now...."

He leaned closer and Bruce turned his head away, not wanting this to happen. He heard Jerome laugh at this: "Oh, Bruce! That was a joke! You're so easy to scare sometimes!"