#callmesiren00

She's in the back, Penny behind the wheel and Frank in the passenger seat, reading a newspaper—the paper crinkling in the breeze. Sylvia leans forward.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere quieter. Probably best for us." Penny reveals. Sylvia looks outside to see fields and trees instead of man-made infrastructure and tarmac. It's quite refreshing, the pure rural air settling over her like a blanket with childhood warmth. She sighs.

"Oh, look here, you're missing, Sylvia." Frank breaks the silence, lifting his newspaper—probably stolen, considering the muddy shoe print on the picture of her. Sylvia takes a closer look and reads a few lines of the story. She sits back in her seat with a soft exhale, her eyes transfixed on the floor of the car as they begin to glisten.

"He's reported me missing... He cares..." She breathes out, her mind overflowing with regrets, counterarguments, and 'what-ifs'. She's thinking she should have left a note to let him know she's fine and will be back after she's found herself– no, it's a good reason she had to leave, and about time she did something about it– but imagine how hard it must be on him... It won't compare to the turmoil that's been brewing in her own head for a few years now.

The war in her conscience is cut short by police sirens behind. She looks back and sees the car a few yards away. The worries crash down all at once.

"Shit..."

"Is that for us?"

"Do they know I'm here?"

"Pull over."

"My driving is fine, what's the deal?"

"I can't let them see me."

Frank looks back at Sylvia as she says that, realising the severity of it.

"They can't find her with us, it looks like we've kidnapped her." Penny looks at him and begins to slow down until she comes to a halt.

"Give her your jacket. Siren, hide under it."

"What? I'm not doing that! That's–" She doesn't want to be mean and say the truth, but she also knows she can't afford to cut her vacation short. "Fine."

Frank takes off his overcoat and Sylvia takes it, curling up into a ball in the backseat and covering herself with it. She hopes the smell doesn't sink into the fabrics of her own clothes.

The officer takes his time, strolling to their car. He looks expectantly at Penny through the window and she rolls it down.

"Do you know how fast you were going?" He's got a sleazy look on his face and even though Sylvia can only hear his voice, she imagines it even clearer with the stench of rotting flesh within the linen. Penny just smiles at him.

"Do speed limits apply to country roads?" She bites back. The cop looks her up and down with contempt and mutters the word "smartass" under his breath. He looks over at the passenger, Frank, who has covered his face with a cloth to hide his unsightly appearance. His eyes are closed, disengaged from the conversation and letting Penny take the lead.

"Who's that?" The cop asks suspiciously. He looks to the backseat and sees the coat on top of a small lump. "I mean, what's that?"

Penny can't believe he's asking such questions, but she knows he's just bored and looking for entertainment.

"That? That's a coat." She looks up at him. He shoots her a glare before looking back at the lump.

"I just saw it move." Meanwhile, Sylvia's trying to lift a flap of the jacket so she could get some air, feeling flushed from the suspense and the warmth under the cloth.

"It's breathing– alright, ma'am, please step out of the car." His hand is on his gun for safety precautions. He opens the car door which leaves Penny with no choice. She huffs and gets out.

He folds the driver's seat forward to access the backseat since it's a two door car. His hand reaches to lift the jacket when Penny slams the door to disorient him from behind and send a non-verbal sign to Frank, who shoots him in the head with the pistol he's kept in case of a situation like this.

The bullet flies cleanly through his head, embedding in the backrest of the backseat as it goes through-and-through, blood painting the interior red. Sylvia wasn't warned for the gunshot and screams when she feels a heavy weight fall on her.

Frank exits to deal with the second cop that's come out of his car to investigate the commotion, shooting him and relieving them of any witnesses. Penny pulls the body out by the legs and Sylvia sits up to see the windows dark—running with flesh as if it's been raining from the inside. Her eyes follow the trail from the seat to the door of the car where the man had been dragged out, to Penny reaching out her hand.

"Come on!"

Sylvia takes it and steps on the cadaver as she gets helped out, the jacket left behind. The trio run down the hill into the trees, following the fields to seclusion.

Chapter 4 <- ✴️ -> Chapter 6

Brown (scrapped) dividers by @curtainhshsh

New York was never a very conscious city. Are people intentionally oblivious? It's like hell for those who don't have money, both the victims and the criminals. Years of struggle force them to mind their own business and look the other way. Siren doesn't know any better.

She's quite the opposite, actually. Nothing satisfies her more than the experiences and lives of others, possibly because she doesn't have much of her own; in fact, they are relatively dull.

She was never one to own the middle of the dancefloor and spill her drink while dancing, yet she doesn't mind the freedom of doing so now, as she knows everyone, and knows everyone doesn't know her.

That being said, she still enjoys peaceful nights—a busy street, a cigarette in her hand, muffled music from a nearby club. Even in the dark, her eyes don't miss passers-by, their faces, the taxi they step out of, the shoes they wear, how often they indulge in menial routines per week, and whether they are just as mindless as they were last month or walking the narrowing path of misery.

Siren knows only simplicity can have an effect on her. She's worn out, but she's still searching for more. Story of her life.

🫀 Chapter 2 ->

Heart divider by @kodaswrld

American Psycho userbar by @burnout-requiem

She's watched the city grow up with her. Maybe it's just gaining understanding, clarity, and consciousness of the world around you as you age; a likely justification. Though that doesn't feel right.

Gotham has become a symbol of moral decay, corruption, fear. One of the hardest things is finding your place in this divided crowd. You're either civilised, a coward not only by choice... but by demand—like an unspoken agreement, or you're playing a sick game of power, cocky to the point of being fatally flawed; a sense of false invincibility.

This might be redundant, to someone like Siren, with a passion to eliminate her dread with exhilaration. Countless times she's laid awake with doubts, used to the ambience of a disturbed city, often reminding her of her next act. Years spent dreaming of how she's going to find satisfaction in a deceased audience.

She used to be driven by a motive to be seen.

Now, it's Batman.

Thank you for reading 💗

💠 Chapter 2 ->

She stumbles out of the club, trying to catch up to Frank and Penny, adjusting to the darkness of the street and suddenly feeling more in-body as if the music had her in a trance like a cobra rising up to react—completely snake charmed.

Before she can register the scene in front of her, she feels hot blood hit her cheek from a man being brutally punched by Frank. She looks at Penny who is trying to keep the other guy at bay until Frank is finished.

He grabs the small man by his shirt and throws him to the ground, hitting his head on the curb. He reaches up to clutch it, but is blocked by Frank's large boot, kicking his head into the ground until his skull cracks—thick, cranberry red blood spilling out of the edges.

Sylvia flinched with each brutal stomp, watching him get beaten by a primal rage she's never seen from Frank before.

The sounds of effort and cries don't go unnoticed, for a man with a camera takes a candid picture of the trio in their compromised emotions, blinding them with the flash. Frank begins to run, Penny looking back and holding out her hand. Sylvia involuntarily hesitates in shock, overwhelmed by the shift of her focus, but Penny grabs her hand and pulls her so they can run together after Frank.

They make a stop at a quieter street, panting deeply from the run, however Sylvia's breaths are irregular and shallow. She looks down the length of the street, to see if she can see the end of it in the abyss of midnight, but she can't even redirect her mind to anything but the mess.

"What... what even happened...? Frank, you– that man... his– ohh..." She frowns even more and paces, feeling dizzy. Penny recovers quickly and her eyes widen.

"She's freaking out..." She moves over to Sylvia and holds her arms out in surrender but doesn't touch her. "Hey– hey, look at me. Focus on me. We'll tell you once you're okay." She frowns at Sylvia's distress, who begins to cry— a dormant volcano now reaching its peak. She closes the gap between herself and Penny, sobbing into her frizzy hair.

Frank watches Sylvia, his heart aching for her. He never expected to see somebody so composed, now so, so broken. He remembers Ronnie, and wishing he could get her to him so he could comfort her, though he doesn't know where she was staying, so he decided to take her to the place he found comfort, thinking it'd be perfect for her too.

There's a quiet ride to the movie theatre, Sylvia's calmed down a bit and listened to what happened. She's glad Penny defended herself, and Frank in her name. She admires that type of dedication to someone you love.

"I think this whole experience has been hard on you even if you didn't think it was." Penny says honestly. "Frank gets anxious sometimes too. Calls them his nerves." She looks over at Frank with a smile, who shoots her a small one in return.

Sylvia sniffles and looks out of the window. They find a spot to park in on the street and sneak into the theatre. One of the rooms is mostly empty, showing Ronnie Reed's latest movie. They sit down somewhere in the middle, Sylvia between Penny and Frank.

Frank watches Ronnie dance and sing with adoration and he whispers to Sylvia.

"He always calms me down."

She feels slightly better at the fact her husband can have such a wholesome effect on anyone else, and she begins to miss him. She watches him sing "I've Got A Feeling I'm Falling" and is instantly subdued by the charming and peaceful nature of the song. It's a shame he can be so attentive under a script but in reality he's just too busy to see what matters most.

"How can a romance be so colourful in black and white yet so dull in real life?" She whispers to no one, eyes glued to the screen. Penny looks at her, an unreadable expression on her face. She looks at Frank again, thinking about how he fought for her today, knowing Sylvia would probably appreciate having someone with more passion for her, though the answer isn't finding someone new.

Brown (scrapped) dividers by @curtainhshsh

I've Got A Feeling I'm Falling – Jake Gyllenhaal, Vince Giordano And The Nighthawks

Chapter 7 <- ✴️ -> coming soon...

Because of this, I got ready ahead of time and decided to walk to work instead of taking a cab. The Patty Winters show this morning was about dogs running in dreams.

I walk down the street, keeping my pace so I don't break into a sweat, or else my morning shower would have been redundant and a waste of time, which I had lots of anyway.

The streets are not too empty, but it's not as busy as it gets during peak hours. A passing woman must've been talking to me when she said hello, there was barely anyone else around. I didn't look at her.

I can't explain the uneasiness in my stomach. It's different to the episodes I normally get. This feeling has been coming and going for the past month, my current prescriptions don't help it much. I might be paranoid, though I've got no reason to be, it feels like I'm being watched. It only subsides once I'm at home, with the door locked and the curtains drawn shut.

I feel it now.

This is ridiculous. I'm in pure daylight with somewhere to be. A collection of the finest and sharpest execution tools concealed in the cupboards of my kitchen.

My pace quickens slightly, my nose and upper lip gathering the most sweat at the moment. I can't help looking into each alley I pass, or even behind me, but I'm met with no one. The presence is still strong. It reminds me of when I was a child, hiding from—

The Pierce & Pierce building. I sigh in relief as I enter the lobby. I should be a little safer in here.

American Psycho userbar by @burnout-requiem

Chapter 3 <- 🫀 -> coming soon...

Heart divider by @kodaswrld

"Maria's Boutique, huh?" Detective Jake Wiles speaks up, wanting to break the silence. He glances over at his assistant, Myrna Malloy in the driver's seat. "At least there's no traffic out here." She just ignores him and focuses on driving.

"I think Mrs Ronnie Reed got abducted. Why would she be hangin' out with a freak show, hm?" He suggests casually. Myrna jerks her head to look at him in disbelief.

"You don't even have any evidence, how can you say that?"

"It's a hunch. It gets my brain working for the investigation." He scoffs in amusement and leans back in his seat. They continue driving until they see multiple police cars and cops standing around.

"Woah, pull over... Looks like a crime scene." He leans forward to check it out.

"It's not related to our case." She says curtly.

"Pull over–" Jake grabs the wheel and turns it which forces her to brake for safety. She glares at him and huffs, exiting the car after him. He approaches the cars and a cop shakes his hand.

"Officer Wilson. We got called onto the scene after they didn't come back from patrol."

"Detective Wiles. What you got here?"

"A pair of unlucky bastards. Seems like the owners of this car shot them and left them for dead." He sighs audibly, his hands on his hips.

"Can I have a look?" Wiles asks, already making a move towards the car. The cop nods and steps back. He sees the dried blood coating the insides, as if the vehicle had fleshy organs of its own. "Gee, a real massacre, hm?" He chuckles darkly. He finds a splattered coat in the backseat. He pulls it out and holds it up.

"Whose is this?" He checks the tags and the size, rummaging in the pockets.

"I don't know. Must've been a man, though. Found this newspaper on the dashboard. Couldn't have been driving and reading. Possibility of an accomplice. Not exactly sure what played out here." The cop holds out the newspaper on the page it was on.

"Hm, Reed. We're on that case right now." Wiles flips through the pages after scanning over at the story.

"Ahem– speaking of that case, we better get going." Myrna raises her eyebrows sternly and goes to the driver's seat, getting in. Wiles says his goodbyes and gets in the car. She starts the engine and puts it into drive.

At Maria's Boutique, they enter, Wiles looking around the place while Myrna heads straight to the counter.

"What can you tell us about Reed's wife? What was she doing in here?" He asks from across the room.

"Well, what could she be doing in a clothes shop? She was looking around with those two eccentrics—a man, with horrible scarring on his face and unbelievably tall, and a woman with an uncoordinated outfit and... a weird black mark on her cheek. They left the air pungent. I don't want to say it, but they looked like... monsters!" Maria whispers the last word, as if it was a curse. Myrna listens intently, thinking about whether there have been any monster sightings recently. Wiles just stares at her dumbfoundedly and shifts on his feet.

"Oh, wow, monsters, okay." He chuckles in doubt and looks at his assistant. "Did she buy anything?"

"No, but she went to the dressing room to try some stuff on. The other lady would've benefitted from new clothes more than Reed– a fresh hairdo too." She scoffs snidely.

"Right, I'm gonna take a look at the dressing rooms, then." Wiles walks over to the stalls and examines them. "Myrna, come here." He turns around and she's already behind his shoulder. He lets out a small "oh" in surprise and points to the pile of clothes in one of the stalls.

"What does that look like to you?" He asks. She raises her eyebrows and purses her red lips in mock thought.

"Something Sylvia would wear. She didn't buy anything because she stole." Wiles turns to her with a derisive smile.

"Mrs Reed? Sylvia. Stealing. Why would she do that? She has the money." In return, Myrna shrugs and shakes her head.

"If she's running with monsters, why wouldn't she do something as little as stealing? The worst is past her." Wiles just nods and shrugs too.

"I guess. Thank you for your assistance, Mary– Maria." He nods at the shopkeeper as he leaves, Myrna sending a polite smile her way as she follows him

"I still think she's been kidnapped." He puffs his chest out with a sly smirk, his assistant rolling her eyes.

Chapter 6 <- ✴️ -> Chapter 7

Flower divider by @mieluno

Brown (scrapped) divider by @curtainhshsh