< just_1_word - Patient - Trapped - arkhams_dr >
Nadine Lewis
Batman (OC)
677 words
A young woman held a baby in her arms, feeding it with practiced patience. Her olive skin and dark hair suggested Eastern European descent, and her eyes were a dark green. She seemed bored, at best, but too smart to complain about the taxing nature of her tasks.
This was not the job she'd signed up for. The woman who hired her-- a German woman who'd hired the girl's cousin as a nanny for her own child-- had said that she would simply be a nanny for a wealthy man in America, charged with taking care of his daughter.
Really, Lillia supposed that was true, but no one had mentioned a house with bones in it or a lunatic. Oh yes, the lady of the house was very quiet when she was around, but Lillia heard the screaming sometimes, late at night. She didn't think she'd ever seen the woman smile, and she blamed that for the baby never smiling.
Three months old, and her mother would barely get near her. No wonder the father had wanted a nanny- someone to make sure the child was fed and held, even if Lillia wasn't particularly fond of carrying the girl about. She hadn't been meant to be a mother. Still, the poor little thing didn't have anyone else.
The father was strange in his own way too. She thought she'd seen him maybe twice in the two months she since she'd been engaged, and it was only in passing. When he was here, he slept in a separate bedroom than his-- wife? mistress? and daughter, and he always had a set of errands for Lillia to complete. She'd never seen him visit the mother and child while she was in the house.
The master of the house had informed her of when he would be arriving, and Lillia knew it was nearly time. That meant it was time for her to get going. He'd prefer she already be gone or be leaving when he arrived. She was all too happy to leave. Of course, she wished she could take the infant with her. No one should have to be left alone with that woman, not with the way she just stared, as if she were looking right through a person. Lillia was sure he had his reasons-- he was a doctor, after all-- but she doubted the wisdom of leaving so helpless a creature as a baby alone with a woman like that.
Nadine sat in her chair, watching as the girl lowered the child back into the crib and went out, taking the empty bottle with her. Her blue eyes focused on the sides of the antique cradle, and she trembled, thinking of the infant inside it. Those eyes-- When she'd first been born, she'd dared to hope. Maybe she wouldn't be alone anymore. Maybe she'd have something to love, something to care for, something that would care for her...
But she'd seen it even in that first month. She'd seen the shadow in the baby's eyes, seen the looming figure of the Scarecrow. Before the birth, she'd hoped-- even prayed once or twice-- that it was the doctor's. He frightened her, made her feel cold and alone, but better him than that creature. Her prayers went unanswered. That child had the blood of the Scarecrow in her veins, and Nadine did not dare take action against her for fear of what that thing would do to her in retaliation.
She couldn't harm the child. She didn't have to love it. She didn't have to take care of it. She'd been forced to carry it for nine months, been forced to listen to that creature taunt her that it might-- that it was its.
Nadine tensed as she heard the front door open and close. It repeated the sound, and there were footsteps on the stairs. Her breath caught in her throat, but there was nowhere to run. There was never anywhere to run. Nadine sat where she was, waiting, hoping with what little she had in her that could hope that it wasn't the Scarecrow.
Batman (OC)
677 words
A young woman held a baby in her arms, feeding it with practiced patience. Her olive skin and dark hair suggested Eastern European descent, and her eyes were a dark green. She seemed bored, at best, but too smart to complain about the taxing nature of her tasks.
This was not the job she'd signed up for. The woman who hired her-- a German woman who'd hired the girl's cousin as a nanny for her own child-- had said that she would simply be a nanny for a wealthy man in America, charged with taking care of his daughter.
Really, Lillia supposed that was true, but no one had mentioned a house with bones in it or a lunatic. Oh yes, the lady of the house was very quiet when she was around, but Lillia heard the screaming sometimes, late at night. She didn't think she'd ever seen the woman smile, and she blamed that for the baby never smiling.
Three months old, and her mother would barely get near her. No wonder the father had wanted a nanny- someone to make sure the child was fed and held, even if Lillia wasn't particularly fond of carrying the girl about. She hadn't been meant to be a mother. Still, the poor little thing didn't have anyone else.
The father was strange in his own way too. She thought she'd seen him maybe twice in the two months she since she'd been engaged, and it was only in passing. When he was here, he slept in a separate bedroom than his-- wife? mistress? and daughter, and he always had a set of errands for Lillia to complete. She'd never seen him visit the mother and child while she was in the house.
The master of the house had informed her of when he would be arriving, and Lillia knew it was nearly time. That meant it was time for her to get going. He'd prefer she already be gone or be leaving when he arrived. She was all too happy to leave. Of course, she wished she could take the infant with her. No one should have to be left alone with that woman, not with the way she just stared, as if she were looking right through a person. Lillia was sure he had his reasons-- he was a doctor, after all-- but she doubted the wisdom of leaving so helpless a creature as a baby alone with a woman like that.
Nadine sat in her chair, watching as the girl lowered the child back into the crib and went out, taking the empty bottle with her. Her blue eyes focused on the sides of the antique cradle, and she trembled, thinking of the infant inside it. Those eyes-- When she'd first been born, she'd dared to hope. Maybe she wouldn't be alone anymore. Maybe she'd have something to love, something to care for, something that would care for her...
But she'd seen it even in that first month. She'd seen the shadow in the baby's eyes, seen the looming figure of the Scarecrow. Before the birth, she'd hoped-- even prayed once or twice-- that it was the doctor's. He frightened her, made her feel cold and alone, but better him than that creature. Her prayers went unanswered. That child had the blood of the Scarecrow in her veins, and Nadine did not dare take action against her for fear of what that thing would do to her in retaliation.
She couldn't harm the child. She didn't have to love it. She didn't have to take care of it. She'd been forced to carry it for nine months, been forced to listen to that creature taunt her that it might-- that it was its.
Nadine tensed as she heard the front door open and close. It repeated the sound, and there were footsteps on the stairs. Her breath caught in her throat, but there was nowhere to run. There was never anywhere to run. Nadine sat where she was, waiting, hoping with what little she had in her that could hope that it wasn't the Scarecrow.