Categories > Movies > Batman Begins > Reaction
The penthouse was one of the few places I could see clearly, having spent five years barely leaving this place, and when I did I kept my eyes shut tightly, afraid of the images I would see.
The interior was one of the nicest places in the city, the top two floors of a prestigious building. We had recently painted the rooms in a black and white theme, white carpet, black leather chairs, and a white couch. Jonathan had refused my request for a puppy for quite obvious reasons.
I bent down to unzip my knee-high brown leather boots as Jonathan closed the door behind us loudly. He was upset.
I set my shoes in the closet and watched Jonathan take off his coat, revealing the gray sweater underneath which fit over his toned torso perfectly. He tossed it over the edge of the couch, the deep gray of the coat contrasting bleakly with the sterile white.
He put his left hand on his hip and ran the other through his hair, pushing it out of his face only for it to fall back quickly. His eyes turned to me as he blew air out of his mouth quickly and furrowed his brow. He sighed again as I walked into his waiting arms and hugged him tight against my body.
Jonathan put one hand on the small of my back; the other smoothed my curly hair as I buried my face into the cashmere sweater he wore, inhaling his scent deeply.
A gentle tug on my brown hair made me look up into his icy blue eyes and press my lips to his. I wound my arms around his neck and went up to my tiptoes and kissed him passionately. Before I knew it was happening, Jonathan’s arm was sweeping me off my feet, breaking our kiss.
I laughed with him as he carried me to the kitchen, where he set me on my feet once again. I grabbed two fistfuls of his sweater and pulled him close to me, smiling seductively, I hoped.
“I was not finished yet, Jonathan,” I said, pressing my lips to his once, twice, before he pulled away from me and put his index finger to my lips.
“And for that,” he said in the most attractive tone ever given to a human, “I am terribly, terribly sorry. But we have to leave in,” he trailed off, looking for a clock. “Twenty minutes.”
I pulled my eyebrows together and he smile apologetically. “For what?”
He gave me the Look. The Look that told me he was very sorry for what he was about to say. “We’ve been invited to a function, a black-tie event.” The tone he was taking was even sorrier than his face. “It’s tonight.”
I groaned. Dress shopping hadn’t been something I’d enjoyed when I could see the dresses. Now, I couldn’t see them, and someone had to poke and prod my body with pins and needles to get it to fit right. Having a size four dress size and 36 C cup size made for interesting fittings.
“I know you don’t want to go…” he trailed off, leaving me to answer his question.
“But you have to start taking me out more or people will get suspicious.” I sighed; my dark, heavy sigh. “Because they didn’t notice for the five years that I was here.” I gestured to the spotless penthouse around me.
Jonathan’s face was dark at my words. His blue eyes softened and he took my face in his hands. “I’m sorry Brook. I’m so sorry that I’ve done this to you.” He closed his eyes and hung his head. I pulled him to me, shushing his repetitive apologies.
“Come on, Jonathan,” I said, taking his hand. His tired eyes looked into mine and he smiled.
We spent two hours at the dress store, and finally settled on a dress that was strapless, black, and ankle length, and garnished with two white stripes near the bottom. It really was quite beautiful when I focused long enough to see it.
We walked into the penthouse again, the outside world darkening with the late afternoon sun. Jonathan set my dress on the couch and kicked off his shoes. I bent down to unzip my boots and felt him move about. I heard the fridge open and stood up, my back popping audibly with my right knee. I winced lightly at the age-old pain; torn ACL in ninth grade soccer.
I looked up at Jonathan as he poured two glasses of my favorite champagne and smiled. My bare feet touched the beautiful hardwood floor, and Jonathan handed me one of the glasses.
“A toast.” His voice was defined and beautiful. We raised our glasses together.
“To what?” I asked, stepping close to him, so our chests pressed against each other.
He smiled. “To the fact that I’m getting closer every day.” He gently tapped our glasses together, then drained his glass as I did the same.
I turned to him then, looked as deep as I could into his light blue eyes. He took my glass and set it on the counter behind him as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my lips to his.
He swept his arm under my legs and carried me to our bed. I stripped his jacket and sweater off him as he took my own jacket when we were lying on the bed. We threw our clothes carelessly on the floor as Jonathan pulled my bare leg up against his side, breaking our kiss for just a moment to look deep into my eyes. He slid his rough hand against my muscular calf, then up my thigh, pushing my skirt up to my waist. We’re both breathing heavily as he kisses my leg.
His eyes meet mine again, and everything stops. I can’t see Jonathan; all I can see is a monster. Deep black eyes and a menacing smile. I yelp and push him away from me before my resolve kicks in and overruns my fear. He lets me push him hard and he tumbles to the floor as I roll away from him.
I realize it’s him and I turn around, tears running down my cheeks and whisper “Jonathan, I’m so…” I can’t finish and he walks around the bed to cradle me in his arms. “I wasn’t paying attention. I knew it was you but I couldn’t-”
He puts a finger to my lips, silencing me. “My fault. My fault, my fault, my fault.” It doesn’t even sound like he’s talking to me anymore. He curses and stands up, grabbing his coat and walking out of the bedroom.
I stay where I am and hear the glass smash as he threw a champagne glass to the floor. I finally walk out of the bedroom and see him standing with his arms crossed over his exposed chest looking outside to the west. The entire room was filled with an orange-red light, and the shadow he made sprang at me like a snake, but I didn’t flinch. I walked to him, wrapped my arms around his waist, and buried my face into his back.
“You should get ready to go,” he stated simply, his voice sounding limp and tired to my ears. I kissed his shoulder blade before I grabbed my dress and got ready for the black-tie fundraiser I didn’t want to go to.
The interior was one of the nicest places in the city, the top two floors of a prestigious building. We had recently painted the rooms in a black and white theme, white carpet, black leather chairs, and a white couch. Jonathan had refused my request for a puppy for quite obvious reasons.
I bent down to unzip my knee-high brown leather boots as Jonathan closed the door behind us loudly. He was upset.
I set my shoes in the closet and watched Jonathan take off his coat, revealing the gray sweater underneath which fit over his toned torso perfectly. He tossed it over the edge of the couch, the deep gray of the coat contrasting bleakly with the sterile white.
He put his left hand on his hip and ran the other through his hair, pushing it out of his face only for it to fall back quickly. His eyes turned to me as he blew air out of his mouth quickly and furrowed his brow. He sighed again as I walked into his waiting arms and hugged him tight against my body.
Jonathan put one hand on the small of my back; the other smoothed my curly hair as I buried my face into the cashmere sweater he wore, inhaling his scent deeply.
A gentle tug on my brown hair made me look up into his icy blue eyes and press my lips to his. I wound my arms around his neck and went up to my tiptoes and kissed him passionately. Before I knew it was happening, Jonathan’s arm was sweeping me off my feet, breaking our kiss.
I laughed with him as he carried me to the kitchen, where he set me on my feet once again. I grabbed two fistfuls of his sweater and pulled him close to me, smiling seductively, I hoped.
“I was not finished yet, Jonathan,” I said, pressing my lips to his once, twice, before he pulled away from me and put his index finger to my lips.
“And for that,” he said in the most attractive tone ever given to a human, “I am terribly, terribly sorry. But we have to leave in,” he trailed off, looking for a clock. “Twenty minutes.”
I pulled my eyebrows together and he smile apologetically. “For what?”
He gave me the Look. The Look that told me he was very sorry for what he was about to say. “We’ve been invited to a function, a black-tie event.” The tone he was taking was even sorrier than his face. “It’s tonight.”
I groaned. Dress shopping hadn’t been something I’d enjoyed when I could see the dresses. Now, I couldn’t see them, and someone had to poke and prod my body with pins and needles to get it to fit right. Having a size four dress size and 36 C cup size made for interesting fittings.
“I know you don’t want to go…” he trailed off, leaving me to answer his question.
“But you have to start taking me out more or people will get suspicious.” I sighed; my dark, heavy sigh. “Because they didn’t notice for the five years that I was here.” I gestured to the spotless penthouse around me.
Jonathan’s face was dark at my words. His blue eyes softened and he took my face in his hands. “I’m sorry Brook. I’m so sorry that I’ve done this to you.” He closed his eyes and hung his head. I pulled him to me, shushing his repetitive apologies.
“Come on, Jonathan,” I said, taking his hand. His tired eyes looked into mine and he smiled.
We spent two hours at the dress store, and finally settled on a dress that was strapless, black, and ankle length, and garnished with two white stripes near the bottom. It really was quite beautiful when I focused long enough to see it.
We walked into the penthouse again, the outside world darkening with the late afternoon sun. Jonathan set my dress on the couch and kicked off his shoes. I bent down to unzip my boots and felt him move about. I heard the fridge open and stood up, my back popping audibly with my right knee. I winced lightly at the age-old pain; torn ACL in ninth grade soccer.
I looked up at Jonathan as he poured two glasses of my favorite champagne and smiled. My bare feet touched the beautiful hardwood floor, and Jonathan handed me one of the glasses.
“A toast.” His voice was defined and beautiful. We raised our glasses together.
“To what?” I asked, stepping close to him, so our chests pressed against each other.
He smiled. “To the fact that I’m getting closer every day.” He gently tapped our glasses together, then drained his glass as I did the same.
I turned to him then, looked as deep as I could into his light blue eyes. He took my glass and set it on the counter behind him as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my lips to his.
He swept his arm under my legs and carried me to our bed. I stripped his jacket and sweater off him as he took my own jacket when we were lying on the bed. We threw our clothes carelessly on the floor as Jonathan pulled my bare leg up against his side, breaking our kiss for just a moment to look deep into my eyes. He slid his rough hand against my muscular calf, then up my thigh, pushing my skirt up to my waist. We’re both breathing heavily as he kisses my leg.
His eyes meet mine again, and everything stops. I can’t see Jonathan; all I can see is a monster. Deep black eyes and a menacing smile. I yelp and push him away from me before my resolve kicks in and overruns my fear. He lets me push him hard and he tumbles to the floor as I roll away from him.
I realize it’s him and I turn around, tears running down my cheeks and whisper “Jonathan, I’m so…” I can’t finish and he walks around the bed to cradle me in his arms. “I wasn’t paying attention. I knew it was you but I couldn’t-”
He puts a finger to my lips, silencing me. “My fault. My fault, my fault, my fault.” It doesn’t even sound like he’s talking to me anymore. He curses and stands up, grabbing his coat and walking out of the bedroom.
I stay where I am and hear the glass smash as he threw a champagne glass to the floor. I finally walk out of the bedroom and see him standing with his arms crossed over his exposed chest looking outside to the west. The entire room was filled with an orange-red light, and the shadow he made sprang at me like a snake, but I didn’t flinch. I walked to him, wrapped my arms around his waist, and buried my face into his back.
“You should get ready to go,” he stated simply, his voice sounding limp and tired to my ears. I kissed his shoulder blade before I grabbed my dress and got ready for the black-tie fundraiser I didn’t want to go to.
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