Terror (Part 1 of the Valeska Series)

Night Terrors

✮ a c c a l i a  POV✮

We reach Gotham in the dead of night, and I tell myself that there is no way I am going back to the penthouse with Jim and Barbara. So, instead, I tell Edward to take me to the circus. Frowning at my odd request, he doesn't voice his thoughts, but takes me there. Telling him to wait for me, I jump out of his car and run through the crowds of screaming people. The smell of sweat and candy makes my stomach turn, and I force myself to move faster. Everyone blurs as my feet move faster, crossing more distance.

Minutes later, I pull to an abrupt stop outside Jerome's trailer. Nothing has changed, except that Sheba is back in her cage, and half dead from not being fed for a week. I lift her out of the cage and set her on the ground, letting her go free. She's going to die in this circus if I don't let her go now, so it's best to save at least one other life from this hell. Turning my gaze back to the trailer, I let out a sigh before opening the door and walking in. I haven't been here in two weeks, and it's strange to see it again.

"You'd be happy, ginger," I say, making my way to his bedroom. "The trailer is still clean two weeks later."

Pulling two suitcases out from underneath the bed, I drop them onto the bed and turn to the wardrobe. Flinging open the doors, I pull out Jerome's clothes and fold them before stuffing most of them into one suitcase with minor difficulty. Putting the rest into the other one, I begin to pack his small amount of possessions on the small shelf in his room. Going into the bathroom, I take everything that belongs to him and drop it into the half filled suitcase, fighting the tears threatening to fall.

Before zipping the suitcase, I grab Jerome's pillow and shove it in too, not wanting to leave his favourite pillow behind in a trailer that someone else is eventually going to use. Slipping the almost empty bag off my back, I upend his bedside draw's contents into my bag. I'm not surprised to see several knives, or the box of condoms that don't appear to be open. Rolling my eyes, I drop the draw onto the bed, zip up the bag, sling it over my shoulder, grab the two suitcases, and leave the trailer I adored behind.

Minutes later, I throw the two suitcases into the back of Edward's car and then climb into the front seat, putting my bag on the floor and putting my seat belt on. "Okay. We can go now."

Edward looks over at the suitcases. "What do you plan on doing with them?"

"Well, I was going to ask if I could stay with you for a while. I don't exactly feel like living with James right now."

"You're more than welcome to. I have a back room that I can convert into a bedroom for you."

"Thanks, Nygma."

"You should at least let Jim know where you are, and that we're back."

"I'll do that later."

"As long as you let him know."

Driving away from the circus, I can't help but look back in mourning. That circus makes up the majority of my good childhood memories, and it feels strange seeing it fade into the distance. I can feel the happiness from the times Jerome and I spent running amuck bubbling inside me. There's a haunting thought in the back of my mind as I once again remember there being another child with the two of us, but I find myself pushing it to the back of my mind.

Half an hour later, Edward and I walk into his apartment, four suitcases in tow - one Edward's, one mine, and two Jerome's. Sighing, I walk over to the window and stare down at the twinkling lights of Gotham as Edward begins to clean out the back room for me. I do attempt to help him, but he gives me a glare and I instantly back away with my hands raised in surrender. Glancing out over the city, I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, unlocking it and letting my finger hover over Jim's contact.

Shaking my head, I hit the call button and hold the phone to my ear, listening to the ringing.

"Hello?" Jim asks in a tired voice, yawning.

I chuckle. "Sorry, James. Did I wake you?"

"No. You're fine, Accalia. So, who is it this time? The last time you called me, someone was dead."

"Don't remind me."

He laughs slightly. "Sorry. What's the matter?"

"I just wanted to let you know that Edward and I are back in Gotham." I hesitate before saying the next part. "Also, I'm going to be staying with him for a while. I don't know how long."

"Oh. Why?"

Sighing, I sit at the table. "James, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but..."

"You can't stand to be around me. I get it, Cali. I arrested your psycho best friend."

"He may have been crazy, and he may have killed his mother, but that f*****g b***h deserved it - and worse! Trust me, James. It was either him or Lila."

"Accalia."

"No. I would take him alive and having committed matricide over his mother still beating him daily! f**k you, James Gordon. You ruined both mine and his lives. Don't expect me to talk to you any time soon. Tell Barbara I love her." Before he can reply, I hang up and scream, throwing the phone against the wall. "f**k!"

Edward clears his throat and I watch as he picks my phone up. "I take that it didn't go well."

I glare at him, not wanting to deal with his weird mood right now.

"No. Obviously not. Uh... Your room's ready."

Smiling slightly, I walk over to him and take my phone before walking into the back room. Three suitcases sit at the end of the bed, and the wardrobe doors are open, revealing plenty of space for my clothes. I unpack my suitcase, hanging up my clean clothes and dropping the dirty ones into the giant basket next to the wardrobe. Turning to the remaining suitcases, I sigh, unzipping the first and pulling out one of Jerome's larger shirts. I put it on the floor in front of the wardrobe and then take his pillow out of the second one before placing it with the second one.

Stripping down to my underwear and bra, I throw my clothes into the basket before slipping on Jerome's shirt. His scent encompasses me and I climb onto the bed, hugging the pillow and squeezing my eyes shut as I attempt to get some sleep. Surprisingly, it comes easily. Ever since Jerome got taken to Arkham, it has taken almost two to three hours for me to even feel tired enough to sleep.

My dreams are welcoming and warm, and I am with Jerome in his trailer, laughing at some old joke that he never stops telling. The laughter stops and, the next thing I know, his hands are gripping my hips in a bruising way, and mine are tangled in his ginger hair. I feel like I am burning from the inside out just from his kisses and touches, and I don't mind it one bit.

That dream doesn't last too long.

Soon, darkness descends on my dreams and everything changes dramatically. Jerome vanishes from my grip and I drop onto his bed, my eyes flying around the room in search of him. Climbing off the bed, I run from the trailer, only to end up on the bottom floor of the orphanage. Terror shoots through me and I scream as the old woman stalks over to me, brandishing a knife. I back up against a wall and shake as she moves closer, a sickening grin covering her face.

She swipes the blade at me and it cuts into my scarred arms, causing blood to pour from the gashes. Screams escape me, but she doesn't stop. Cut after cut after cut marrs my pale skin, and it turns to vibrant red colour that makes my stomach turn. Once my body is littered in enough of the gashes, the knife disappears from her hand, only to be replaced by a hot fire poker.

White hot pain shoots across my abdomen as she presses it against my skin, branding me. Screams tear themselves from my raw throat, and my vision begins to turn white. The pain is too much, and it's making my body short circuit. I spasm under the fire poker and writhe on the cold floor of the orphanage. Burn after burn is lathered onto my skin, and the blood from the gashes begins to seep into the burns, causing more pain to rocket through my body without mercy.

Screaming, I beg for someone to help me. The only sound that comes is the sadistic laughter of the woman looming over me, now brandishing a whip. My skin tingles at the memory of the stinging pain and I involuntarily curl into a ball. Laughter echoes in my ears as she raises the whip and brings it down, the leather easily ripping through my clothing and cutting through my skin. Shrill screams break free at each lash, and my body arches every time, baring more flesh for her to hit.

"Accalia!"

Screaming, I launch myself off the bed as soon as my eyes fly open. Slamming against a wall, I fall to the ground and stare in fear at the form sitting on my bed, my chest heaving and my breathing irregular. The form moves closer and another scream breaks itself from my lips, causing the form to freeze and raise their hands in surrender, relaxing onto the bed in the same spot.

"Cali," they say. "You're alright. I'm not going to hurt you. Okay? It's Edward."

I shakily nod, not trusting my voice.

"I'm going to turn the lamp on. Is that okay?"

I nod and light floods the room, causing me to squeeze my eyes shut. A shocked sound escapes Edward and I open my eyes slowly, my eyes adjusting to the small amount of light. Following his gaze, I look down at my hands and thighs, only to find them covered in torn skin and blood. Swallowing, I push myself to my feet and lean against the wall as pain erupts in my legs. Cursing, I move to my suitcase and pull out some antibacterial cream before almost collapsing back onto my new bed.

"What the hell was that?" Edward rasps, still not fully comprehending the situation. "And what the hell did you do to yourself?"

Hissing, I rub the cream into the torn skin on my thighs. "Night terrors. They happen sometimes, but they have rarely been bad enough for me to hurt myself in my sleep."

"Accalia, does Jerome know about these?"

I shake my head. "I didn't want him to worry about me - or know the hell I was put through."

"Why?"

"He went through enough hell living in that god forsaken circus."