The king and queen of Gotham

Before the end

I sighed, stood up lazily, and stretched towards the ugly white ceiling of my tiny "bedroom". It was more like a closet than a bedroom. I looked around and took in the pitifulness of my life. My bed was crammed to one side of my room, by the tiny dingy window. I had a dull brown-gray two drawer dresser my mom had found in a thrift store garbage can when we had stopped in Boston a couple of years ago. It had been my birthday present. There was an antique radio on top of it, and a lamp that hung over my bed, and a foggy mirror opposite of the dresser, propped against the wall, and that about summed up the space. It was dingy, the walls were a mixture of white and black from the old mold stains, and the floor was a matted carpet that should have been replaced decades ago. 

I shuffled over to my dresser and groped for an outfit. I picked up a cute flowered shirt I had found in the bathroom after a show a couple of weeks ago, and my favorite pair of white-wash skinny jeans. They were the most expensive thing I owned, I had spent weeks putting aside money to buy them brand-new from American Eagle. I remember walking through the store, fingering all of the clothes before picking the cutest pair I could afford. I then walked over to my mirror and ran my fingers through my caramel hair, until it sat decently on my head and surveyed my face. Overall I wasn't bad looking, with big gray eyes, dark long lashes, and decent lips, I might be able to pass off as cute to the right person, if they could ignore the flatness of my body. Spending your life with no money for any good food makes you pretty skinny. I shoved open my door and walked over to where my mom was passed out on the couch, a bottle of vodka still in her hand. I had heard her the night before, obviously whatever lover she had over had left once the alcohol consumed her. My mother used to be beautiful, she had long, wavy raven hair, dark grey eyes, full pouty lips, and straight teeth. Well, she did, that was before she discovered her best friend, vodka. Now she was a mess to even look at. She had gained wait around her waist, making her squishy, her teeth were yellowed out, and her eyes always bloodshot. 

I ripped the bottle out of her hands, even in sleep, she was clutching it like a life line. Then I poured water in a glass and put it on the table beside her, and threw the door open. It was a beautiful day outside, sun shining, birds chirping. Oh, and the stench of throw up coming from the garbage can right outside our trailer was the cherry on top. There was only one thing in my life that mattered, and I started to search for him. 

Jerome spotted me at the same time as I found him, and we made our way towards each other. As we got closer to each other, I took in the fresh bruise on his eye, and the wince with every step he took. He noticed my observations and tried to distract me.

 "Hey, last day in Gotham city-" I cut him off.

"Why?" I kicked the dirt at my feet angrily, making dust fly up around us. "What did you do that was so deserving of yet another beating Jerome?!" Frustration worked its way inside me, moving up into my throat and choking me. 

"Well, I'm not quite sure this time, either I ruined the dishes, or breathed wrong when she was just a little too drunk." He glanced at my face and saw the anger was still there. "No point in getting all angry, nothing to be done now damage is already done." I sighed and went on my tippy toes to kiss the bruise. What I didn't expect was for Jerome to turn quickly to the side, so instead of kissing his cheek, I got his soft lips instead. He pulled me tighter to him as his lips worked against mine, and I smiled before pulling away and stared into his beautiful bright blue eyes and tugged on his bright red hair. 

"I wouldn't consider that deserving of getting hit babe," I said as I pulled out of his grasp. He gave me a look before taking my hand and leading me to our favorite spot, a tree about a football fields length away from the center of the circus. He leaned against the tree and I lay my head on his lap, like usual. Looking up at this amazing person, I couldn't fathom how his mother could stand to hit such an innocent soul. She got out of hand, a lot, and I understood his pain, having my own drunken mother to deal with. Jerome and I clicked, to say in the least. We had spent our whole childhood together, just me and him and--well me and him. Back in the good ole days, before the incidents happened, our mothers actually might have used to love us, just a tiny bit at least. Then shit hit the fan for Lila and she brought her best friend, my mom, down into that deep dark pit with her. Jerome and I tried to hid it from each other at first, before we realized that we were going through the exact same thing.