“Add me on Facebook. I’m trying to get back into social media.”

batmangambit-blog-deactivated20 said: I purse my lips and furrow my brows thinking about his answer. "I think it sometimes helps to let your issues out... to an outside perspective, I mean. Someone who isn't in your usual circle of friends." I smile self-deprecatingly, "There's no shame in recieving therapy. I've been through five or so, and, well, I don't think of it as a big deal." I wave my hand dismissively.

I wonder what it’s like to seriously confide in someone for a fleeting moment. The urge to laugh loudly at myself overtakes anything else. No one. Will ever. Know.

“It isn’t a big deal. Everyone should have a therapist.”

I don’t really believe that, but that’s what my mother told me. She’s in a crazy home now.

Honey we have to work on your killing habits

"I wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Probably

“Getting murdered on Halloween is too fucking cliche.”

“I might not be around, but always remember I still hate you.”

 callmeselina:

“No, I couldn’t have — and you know that,” she starts, a tremor in her voice where there wasn’t one before. “No amount of your money would’ve changed the fact that I’m —”

That she’s what? An escaped convict? A criminal? A pariah, no matter what the facts were? His friends could’ve looked her name up on their phones and, within split seconds, everything would’ve been there.

"I had a deal with a man named John Daggett. If I delivered Bruce Wayne’s fingerprints, I’d get a program — the Clean Slate. I would’ve been able to start fresh, maybe even here, with you, but the moment I delivered my piece, they put a gun to my head. Next thing you know, I’m back in prison — do you honestly think I wanted any of this for you?”

Because, if he really does, then she has a feeling he was a lost cause long before they’d parted ways. Money doesn’t solve everything. Especially not in her world.

I really do know that money can’t save everything, but the part of me not willing to rationalize any of this wants to start throwing his money to the wind and try to buy her back. That. Won’t. Work. I’ve been away from her for so long that I almost forget she isn’t as shallow as the people I normally associate with.

It’s much more complicated than just that.

"No, but—”

But what? I have nothing to lean against and there’s really no position I can take to back myself up. I want badly to make her the villain in this situation and I find it funny that I can’t do that to her because, despite what a mess this is, I don’t want her to be upset with me anymore.

Cringing at myself and shutting my eyes, I straighten out my legs until my feet meet the wall next to the door so I can push away from it. I think I can probably stand up again, but I have to use the wall to steady myself.

Finally, I decide to really look at her and it’s a mistake because everything is usually shown through her eyes, but there’s nothing there for me.. Now the possibilities are terrifying and I’m about to embarrass myself more than I already have.

“How do you expect me to trust you when you have more money than I do, but don’t take care of those under eye circles?”