A Foolish Grave

Chapter 4

Devyn's POV

Were my thoughts visible they would be an inverse explosion, crazy chaotic turns and twists of light all coming together to just one idea, to just one word? Though they spin in a way that appears without design or logic, they always dance their way back to him, how to find him, why he's doing this and how long it would take. In my sleeplessness, I am drunk on silence. For hours it has seeped into my pores, dowsing my mind in its thick toxicity. The usefulness of my thoughts left long ago, leaving these fatigued neurones to fire almost randomly- flailing without direction. I want so much to not to think at all, I want to be absorbed into the darkness that the night promised me hours ago. I want to be waking refreshed to streaming white daylight, unaware of the hours between then and now. But as usual my wishes mean nought and behind these closed lids the idiocy continues. Flipping over I check the time, 6 am, sighing I decide to get up rather than lay in bed restless for the next few hours. Changing into some better clothes I grab my cigarettes and lighter, heading for the balcony in my room. Lighting it up, inhaling slowly, my system responding to the smoke, and I felt my lungs being wrapped up by a warm blanket. Taking small, slow draws of the cigarette, I felt more content than I had moments before. The floorboards above started creaking, signalling that Bruce was awake or moving around upstairs at least. I'm itching to get looking for the next clue. Finishing up my cigarette I pick up my bag and pack my stuff, 

Quietly I open my door and walk downstairs, being careful to step lightly. Crossing the lobby I don't see anyone, I head for the kitchen to grab the papers and Jack's waistcoat, stuffing them into my bag. As my hand reaches for the front door, a hand is on my shoulder, I freeze, 

"You might need this"A voice chuckles, 

Turning round Bruce is stood there, holding out my bike helmet. I take it from his hands, 

"Thank you..I'm sorry for leaving like this but I just need to find the next clue.."

"I know, I'm sorry I can't be of much help"

"Bruce don't worry, you don't understand how grateful I am with what you have done.. thank you"

I pull him into a careful hug, he presses a kiss to my hair and lets me go, putting something small into my hand. Opening it there's a key, my head snaps up to look at him, 

"Bruce..?"

Closing my fingers around the key he smiles at me, "it's incase you ever need somewhere to go and we aren't here"

"thank you.."

"Now, go and find him"He smiles, 

Grinning I slipped on my helmet, ran outside and jumped onto my bike. Heading for the main city. It's strange going back to the center, when I do. This was alway a city of the haves and have-nots. There were those in The North of the city, the top as we called it, with their exotic cars and luxury life style and those in The Narrows, drug addled and abused. Of course there was a huge middle class that was neither. Working all their waking hours to give their kids ski lessons, music lessons, two sports clubs and foreign vacations. Pulling up in an empty car park I took my helmet off and sighed. C'mon think, where would a clue be hidden? The police station? no too obvious and dangerous, plus I can't go back there. The it clicks, Harvey Dent..where he was almsot killed. Rachel's face popped into my head and the wave of nausea that hit me was so intense that I hardly made it to behind the some bins in an alley before I emptied my stomach. Bening sick was already a nasty thought but actually seeing it only made it worse. It burst from my throat, practically choking me. Hot tears spilled from my eyes as futile whimpers for help spilled out between yesterday's dinner. Moving awya from the pile I sat down beisde my bike, head in my hands, I couldn't stop I had to find him. Shakily I stood, took a breath and headed for the ruins of the warehouse that Dent was in. 

In pre-darkness, the street hardly looks different that it did 2 years ago. The lack of illumination from the street-lamps gives it away first. At this time their glow should be yellowing the rain-drops and casting a smudgy beam onto the black street. I've avoided these streets because of the memories but I'd give anything to go back, back to life as it was. With all the stress, with all the many times I wished to be alone, it was home. Funny. I always used think home was a place, now I think of it as a time.