[ @alphonsetalbot ! ]
Selina hadnât been around when Bruce died. She had run, like a coward, had been drinking in the desert when he had taken his last breath. For that, she wasnât sure if she would ever be able to forgive herself. Usually, it was easy for her to just care about herself, just worry about her own wellbeing and everything else fell into place. This was the time that it didnâtâthis was the time that the thing she had always dreaded, always managed to escape, happened. The love she and Bruce had shared wasnât a romantic one; it was more like brother and sister, like the family sheâd never had as a young woman. He had filled in the missing spaces in her heart. Heâd been the one who had actually cared what happened to her, even when she felt like no one did.Â
And now he was gone and she was unmoored again, wanting nothing more than to drown her feelings out with a drink and some light thievery, though the first had spiraled out of control to the point where she couldnât even squeeze herself into her leather catsuit. Instead, she sat on the floor of her apartment in just her underwear and bra, a bottle of wine in hand and her face surprisingly devoid of tears. She hadnât cried yet. She wasnât sure if she could. When there was a knock at the door, she simply shouted itâs open before lifting the bottle to her lips again. Tonight, she would fall apart. Tomorrow, she would put herself back together.Â
