Crossroads

She was tired. Exhausted.

Her head was pounding and her throat felt dry, scratching uncomfortably whenever she swallowed. Her migraine was only worsened by the tight bun that she had scraped her brown hair into, and the thick, suffocating smell of lavender perfume that this restaurant seemed to be soaked in.

Her shift started in the middle of the day, so by the time she had trudged through the back doors and into the staff room, the restaurant was already abuzz with the chatter of citizens, a steady hum that followed her wherever she went. Most days, it was seen as oddly soothing; she hated silence. But the pain that was blossoming throughout her skull twisted the sound into a nuisance that only encouraged her migraine.

The little staff room was situated in the back of the restaurant, with only one cramped window that offered little insight into the outside world. Still, it wasn't hard to see the pouring rain, or the thick dark clouds. The surface of the window was ghosted over with pale white frost.

"The weather's pretty shit, huh?" Her coworker, Isabella, was the only other one in the room at that point, leaning back in her metal chair with a cup of store-bought coffee steaming in her hand. Her blonde hair was soaked, and matted against her skull. "This is what I get for wanting some caffeine. Pneumonia."

"No, good morning Hayley?" The corner of lip quirked up, and as she hung up her umbrella and coat she offered a consoling; "The weather's always shit. You know what Gotham's like." There was an edge of bitterness to her tone that didn't go unnoticed by the blonde waitress, but she tried to make a joke out of it.

"Not all the time. I swear, one time in 1996, I felt a ray of sun hit my face."

A thunderous crash suddenly reverberated throughout the small staff room, making both Hayley and Isabella flinch. Although Hayley was flinching more for the burst of pain in her head, than anything else. After a few seconds of shocked silence Isabella leaped out of her metal chair, storming towards the red double-doors that linked the staff room to the kitchen.

"James, did you drop the fucking plates again?"

Hayley couldn't help but smirk at that, snatching up a beige apron from one of the chairs and tying it clumsily around her waist. That smug little smile quickly dropped off her lips, however, when she saw the post-it note plastered on the coffee machine.



The kiss at the end just made it worst. Lazy bastard. Sure, this was a small restaurant, but not small enough that they had to send one of their waitresses to shop for them. Her green eyes reluctantly slid over to the window, which was still suffering from the onslaught of rain.

Okay, maybe she was a bit of a lazy bastard too. She was almost contemplating quitting, just to escape going out into that storm. Then again, with her background, what other work was she going to get? With a sigh, Hayley crumpled up the florescent pink post it, chucking it behind her shoulder before grudgingly untying her apron.



Her fingers were freezing and numb, and it took a few tries to properly fit her key into the lock. Her apartment was wedged in the middle of a huge block of flats, and yet she could still hear the pounding of the rain, accompanied by the rumbling roar of thunder that managed to make goosebumps erupt on her arms.

Hayley's headache had not ceased, even after over six hours - the icy rain trickling down her neck only made it more intense. Like the idiot she was, she had forgotten her umbrella at work - she was going to get a fucking cold, she was sure.

A wheezy cough rattled out of her throat, and she internally groaned. Definitely going to get another cold.

After a few more pathetic attempts, she finally shoved the door open and stumbled inside. Her little apartment was cold and silent, eerily silent, and with a shudder Hayley slammed the door shut and locked it. She could feel her phone, vibrating violently in her skirt pocket, but rather than answer it she instead flicked on all the lights she could, trying to make the place feel more... homey.

When she was satisfied with the warm light flooding her living room, she grabbed the remote and switched on her grey box of a television. Of course, the first thing that came on was Channel 47, Gotham Cable News. Hayley watched the news, but tried not to dwell on it too much; all that talk about bats and clowns was enough to drive you insane.

Ring, ring, ring.

Hayley's lips pursed at the persistent cry of her phone, pulling it out of her pocket and frowning at the words displayed across the screen. Private.

Who the fuck would call her on 'private' mode? Prank callers, that's who. Or telemarketers. Two kinds of people that she didn't want to talk to on a Monday afternoon.

Pulling a disgusted face, she tossed the phone onto her brown recliner, turning on her heel and padding towards the bathroom. Her hair was dripping, even when pulled up into a bun, and she had a feeling that her mascara was smeared across her cheeks in a really unpleasant manner. She needed a shower. And some aspirin.



Hayley could say, without a shadow of doubt, that the best thing about her apartment was her bedroom window. Her furniture was decent, albeit a little worn down, and her electricity and hot water ran fine; but the view from her bedroom window was the kind of view that actually made you like Gotham, a little bit.

You couldn't see any stars - the clouds were stubborn, as was the rain and thunder - but the city's lights proved to be just as breathtaking as the stars. A wave of orange and yellow light against the pitch black of the skyscrapers, that made it look like the whole city was on fire.

Hayley knew she looked ridiculous; sitting cross-legged on the cold floorboards of her bedroom, wrapped in only a thin white towel and spouting poetic crap about the city she claimed to both love and hate. She could always blame it on the mound of aspirin she swallowed, or the few glasses of wine she had shared with Isabella. People tend to think they're poets when they're drunk, right?

Ring, ring, ring.

Hayley froze. She could hear her phone, although faint, still buzzing from the living room. For the past forty minutes, it had been ringing, on and off.

A sudden fear swelled up from the pit of her stomach, blocking her throat and rendering her speechless. The silence wasn't helping - god, she hated silence.

Not even the city lights could distract her now. Grasping the white towel tighter against her chest, she stood, grimacing at the involuntary shivers that followed.

Hayley should have ignored it. She should have just listened to her gut feeling, the warning lights that were flashing inside of her head, and gone to sleep. But the ringing was driving her insane, and for her peace of mind she needed to know who was on the other end.

For the first time in her short life, she was at an important crossroads; and she made the wrong decision.

She answered the phone.