Siren's Song

The ride to Bruce’s home was silent. Even my tears had become silent streams. When the car came to a stop, he came and opened my door for me, and I avoided his eyes as I stepped out and followed him to the door. Were it another time, I may have been awestruck by the sheer size of the structure, but now, I was beyond even barely noting it. Entering, the feeling of eyes on me made me stop. I looked up to see an older man standing nearby. He turned to Bruce.

“Good evening, Master Wayne,” he said, allowing me to learn that he was obviously of British descent.

“Good evening, Alfred,” he said in reply. “This is Belle.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss Belle,” Alfred said to me.

“Likewise,” I said, forcing a smile.

“Alfred? Would you get us some tea?”

“Of course, Master Wayne.” I watched as the butler left the room, suddenly feeling alone. I was. I was alone in the room with Bruce. Alone with the man who thought of me as a child.

“Please, sit,” Bruce said suddenly. I did, taking a seat at the edge of a couch in silence. A shift in weight told me he’d done the same. Alfred returned to the room, setting a tray on the table. He started to pour the tea, but Bruce signaled him away. Again, I watched him leave. Bruce poured the tea, and I almost smiled as he prepared it exactly as I liked. He handed a cup to me, and I nodded in thanks.

“Isabelle -” I cut him off.

“Please, don’t call me that,” I said softly.

“Belle,” he started again softly, “You have to see where I’m coming from. You’re half my age! Can’t you understand why that throws me just a bit off guard?” I said nothing. “We can’t resolve this if you won’t talk to me.”

“Resolve?” I replied now, emotionally. “This can’t be ‘resolved’, Bruce! It’s not like I can stop being twenty-two! I can’t speed up my aging. This isn’t a puzzle, where you see something wrong and you fix it! It’s more like the puzzle’s completed, and it didn’t turn out how you expected. It’s done, and you realize you don’t like it as much as you thought, so you decide that you’re done with it!” My voice caught at the end, and I struggled to keep myself from breaking down again.

“Belle,” he said, with slight surprise in his voice, “That isn’t it at all! I never said that. God, Belle,” his hand found mine, “Don’t think that. I-I’m not done with you.” Finally I looked up at him.

“Y-You’re not?”

“No! I mean, I hope not. God, I don’t know! I like you, that I’m sure of, but to know that I’m old enough to be your father…” He trailed off.

“It doesn’t change me, Bruce,” I said softly. “I’m the same as I was before. I was young before you knew, and it meant nothing then. Why does it have to mean something now?” He looked at me with a sad smile.

“See? When you say things like that, it makes me think that you’re somehow wrong. That someone with that kind of wisdom must have been around longer.”

“Maybe not,” I replied. “Maybe someone like that’s just seen enough to know better than most her age.”

“You’re right,” he replied after a moment. His hand moved to my face, and his fingers brushed across my cheek just below my eye. “It’s in your eyes.”

“So… What does this mean?”

“It means… I overreacted, and I just have to hope you'll forgive me, so we can move past this.” I smiled, and leaned into him, resting my head in the crook of his neck.

“Of course I do.” He pulled away.

“Good, because I don’t know what would have happened if you said no. I know we’ve only been out once, but I really am crazy about you.” He seemed a little flustered saying this, and I had to smile.

“Good to know I’m not the only one. I mean, when I first told you, and you seemed so mad… I’ve never cried over something like that. Honestly, the last time I cried at all was almost eight years ago. But, with you, everything seems to matter. It’s like your opinion decides so much… ”

“Well, I’ll do anything I can to make sure you don’t cry again.” I smiled at him, and kissed him softly on the lips. When I pulled away, he put his hand on the back of my neck and leaned in again. The sound of the clock striking made us pull apart.

“Two o’clock already… Maybe I should be going,” I said sadly. He frowned.

“I don’t think I like the thought of you walking alone this time of night.”

“Well, that’s too bad, because I’m still not letting you drive me,” I said faux-primly as I rose from my seat. As I turned to walk towards the door, he grabbed my hand.

“Maybe you should stay here.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Please? I don’t want you out this late. You can sleep in the guest room, and go home tomorrow.” I almost smiled at how much of a gentleman he was as I thought it over.

“I suppose I can, but I have to call my father.”

“You go ahead, and I’ll go see if I can find you something to wear to sleep,” he said, smiling. He kissed my cheek before leaving the room, and I pulled out my phone, dialing the number I knew by heart. After three rings, someone picked up. They said nothing, as was usual when someone called the warehouse.

“It’s Isabelle,” I said simply. I heard the sound of the phone being put down as whoever answered went to get my father. Soon enough, his voice sounded through the telephone.

“Where are you?”

“I told you, Daddy. I had a date.”

“That was hours ago!”

“I know. We lost track of time. I’m calling to say that I’m staying here tonight.”

“What?” he exclaimed. “You most certainly are not. Get back here! I’ll track you down if I have to!”

“Relax, Daddy. He doesn’t feel comfortable with me walking home this late, so he offered me a guest room.” He started to speak again. “I’m staying, Daddy. He’s just being a gentleman.”

“Ha! That’s what he wants you to think!”

“You stop that! He isn’t like that. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He grumbled on the other end. “And if you come looking for me, I’ll never forgive you. Don’t you remember our conversation before?” Silence met my words, until he finally spoke.

“Alright,” he said unhappily. “I’ll let you be a grown-up. But just this once!” I had to laugh.

“Okay, Daddy. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He said nothing, just continued to grumble, and I hung up.

“Bruce?” I called out. He came back into the room.

“All set?”

“All set.”

“Alright then. Right this way.” I smiled as he escorted me through the halls, stopping in front of a door. Opening it, he led me inside.

“There are some clothes in the bathroom. I’m not sure if they’ll fit.” He smiled apologetically, and I went into the bathroom to change. As I took off my dress, I frowned at myself. On my left side, a scar ran from the middle of my stomach down to the middle of my thigh. Another marked the back of my right shoulder. I fought back memories as I turned to the clothes he’d left for me.

Another rock flew through the air, accompanying their shouts, as I tried to escape them. A man blacked my path, knife in hand.

I lifted the top, stroking my hand on the deep blue silky material. Pulling it on, I fumbled with buttons.

Another man. Behind me. I had nowhere to go. They were getting closer.

The shirt was big, but comfortable. I turned to the pants, knowing immediately that they’d be too long, I would simply wear the shirt, but then he’d see.

They were laughing as the blade cut me. Their voices cheered him on. Tears rolled down my face, mixing with the rain.

Stepping into the pants, I rolled them a few times at the top, to make them stay at my waist. I bent to do the same to the bottom.

A kick to the leg sent me down, held up only by the arms of the one behind me. Sharp pain shot through my shoulder as they told me it was what I deserved…

I stood quickly, turning on the sink to splash my face with water. Looking in the mirror, I collected myself. Things had changed. I had changed. I had run from that part of my life. I was a new person.

It hadn’t been my fault.

Reminding myself of this, I left the room. Seeing Bruce still standing by the door, I smiled.

“They’ll work,” I told him.

“Good,” he replied, pulling back the comforter and sheets. “If you need anything, my room is down the hall, or you can call Alfred.” He kissed me gently before turning to leave. I quickly grabbed his arm, suddenly not wanting to be alone.

“What is it?” he asked, worry in his voice.

“Can you… stay with me?” I felt childish, but I couldn’t bear the thought of being alone with the memories. I would have nightmares. I knew I would.

Instead of asking questions, he frowned, and crossed to get into the bed beside me. I turned to him, laying my head on his chest, feeling him run his fingers through my hair. I fell asleep to the sound of his breathing, and the steady beating of his heart.

A music all its own.