[Gotham. January 29th, 2015]
A young red-haired girl, awake late into the night, wandered the halls of the rundown apartment she lived in. No one else was awake. Not at this hour. Being awake even past 8 o’clock was a danger in Gotham.
The girl walked down the stairs, clutching the patterned blanket she held in her arms. She walked past an unoccupied room on the second floor. Her father always told her that she should never wander too far. ‘Don’t get your head stuck in places it doesn't belong.’ He'd say.
The girl didn’t like the man. He was much too loud when he yelled, and he hit too hard. He said her curiosity would kill her one day.
She peered into the room. There was a light emanating from a spot on the carpet. Fire. It spread, catching onto the curtain, engulfing the walls. The girl ran once the heat finally reached her at the door. She moved as quickly as she could up the stairs, making it to her family’s apartment. She tried at the door, but it had locked when she closed it. She was stuck. She couldn’t possibly go back down; the whole second floor was likely covered in the inferno that had started in that room. She knew the apartment didn't have a fire suppression system, since she had heard her mother complaining about how outdated the whole section of the city was.
She didn’t know what to do. Her brother was still asleep in their room, and she couldn’t get back in. She was going to die. They were all going to die. She tried at the door once again. Nothing.
The girl searched the darkness of the hallway until her eyes caught the fire exit. Without thinking, she ran out and started down the rickety ladder. She hadn’t even realized she had been crying when she started running. She didn’t know where she was going, simply that she had to leave. She couldn’t save anyone, so she had to save herself.
She ran on and on for blocks after blocks, not bothering to look for cars. She ran until she couldn’t see her road.
She didn’t recognize where she had ended up when it started to rain. Luckily, there had been an awning where she could shield herself from the rain. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. Like the smoke had followed her and clouded her lungs.
She knew she would be right. Her curiosity didn't kill her. She'd be dead now without it.
A young Edward Nashton, about 21 at this time, walked out of a plain-looking building. He had cursed himself for not bringing his umbrella once he had gotten outside. He hated working so late. Especially here. You just never know what people are around at times like this.
He walked down two blocks, nearly at his apartment, when he saw a figure curled up under an awning just outside of a cafe. He couldn’t see much with his glasses so obstructed by the rain. He could distinguish the figure as a young girl, around seven, from what he could tell. She had auburn hair, though it was hard to tell in the dark. The street lights really didn’t do much.
He continued walking until he reached her. He crouched down and looked at her more closely. She didn’t look hurt, but she had obviously been crying. He could tell her eyes were puffy, even with the limited light.
She struggled to meet his eye line.
He put his hand out as a way to attempt to soothe her. “What are you doing out so late?”
She buried her head in the blanket she had been clutching onto. “I-I ran out.”
She looked up, finally meeting his eyes. He tried his best to look comforting. He was always told he looked kind, and he had hoped that it stayed true.
“Th-there was a f-fi-fire.”
He pulled away slightly in shock. He did his best to still appear calm. “Are you hurt at all?”
She shook her head. “I just ran before I could see. I co-couldn’t get b-back in my room.” She had started to tear up again, a stutter coming back to her voice.
“Oh- Gosh, I do not know how to deal with this… Do- Did you live near here?”
She shook her head again. She was barely holding back tears.
“Don’t worry. You’ll be safe.”
Edward, now sitting down next to the girl in silence, fidgeted with his gloves. He didn’t want to leave her alone in the streets of Gotham. He was more responsible than that. Even though he didn’t even know the girl’s name, he felt some obligation to keep her safe. The likelihood of her family being dead, from what he could gather from her story, was very high. He didn’t want to just turn her in to the nearest police station without fully knowing what happened.
