SCRATCHES PART ONE: REVIVAL

Chapter One – Memories

New York, December 1996

“There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity”

T. S. Elliot

“Selina?! Selina… Selina…” Came a voice at the back of the room. An uneasy feeling captured her. She couldn’t understand what was wrong, but she new something was. She did not like hearing her name said that why. Slowly she returned and uttered the words: “Max?” In addition, she was relieved.

“Selina, could I have Mrs. Noel’s files, please?” Dr Mayward said. She snapped out of her uneasy feelings and took a deep breath to compose herself.

“Sure. I will just go get them. Sorry. Sorry…” She pushed her bifocals up her nose and darted out to the room behind her desk. Emerging quickly. “I’m sorry Dr. Mayward. I don’t know what was the matter with me. It won’t happen again, I promise.” She said, sitting down nervously.

“Don’t apologise. It happens to us all sometimes, especially on a Monday. Also Christmas is always a stressful time. Have a coffee break.”

“Thanks.” Selina replied she didn’t like to look at Dr Mayward eye to eye.

Selina walked over to the staff room. Helena was just leaving.

“You O.K Selina?” Helena inquired.

“Yeah. A little tired.” Selina walked past Helena blanked out. She walked over to the kettle and began to boil some water. She flicked on the T.V. and slumped in a chair.

“Today, in Gotham City, Edward Nygma is expected to stand trial. Although his defence is sure to pledge insanity. It was recently leaked from Arkham Asylum, a prison institution for the criminally insane, that Nygma, better known as ‘The Riddler’ believed himself to be none other than ‘Batman’.” The reporter said smirking.

Selina changed channels. Day’s of our Lives was on. She mussed to herself. “Babe your well out of that city.” yet she wished she could remember how she got out of there.

It was a long story that she herself didn’t know, completely, anyway. She shut her eyes and reminisced about what she could remember. And she drifted away. Back to Gotham, back to that night… and remembered:

As I came around in the hospital I heard their voices.

“Four bullets. Four! Where the hell did she manage to get shot four times?!”

I wish I knew as well. My eyes opened in a dart. I was amazed. The last memory I had was… was… er… work. I was at work. Shreck’s, that’s where I worked. Then nothing, well not nothing, it’s not complete amnesia. I do remember someone. Someone who I liked, but who’s name has completely escaped my memory. I never tried to find out.

I was transferred that night to a Hospital in Atlanta. I, I later found out it was at my mothers insistence. I remember she wasn’t happy bout me not coming home that Christmas and she was probably delighted with the developments. I knew, remembered, she hated my independence.

She still hates my independence. After I ‘recovered’, though I really never did, I moved back home, at my mother insistence. I don’t know why I allowed her to control me, but it was probably because I didn’t know how to live alone anymore. I hate saying the word, but I became, I became a victim. I moved to Gotham to prove I wasn’t a victim but it didn’t work like that. It didn’t work like that – but how did it work? I never stopped wanting to know. I still want to know. But someone thing in the back of my head insists I don’t want to know. As if I chose not to know what happened to me, but I don’t know why.

I went back to Gotham with my mother. To my flat, saw where the found me. I was ‘discovered’ alone, virtually naked, lay outside my apartment block. Shout four times! The police told my mother it was probably a member of the now dismembered Red Triangle Gang, the clowns that had worked for Penguin. That night must have been busy, because as I lived the most exciting night of my life, Batman took down the freakish Penguin and the vinyl clad Catwoman. Both are dead. Well she’s believed to be dead, they still don’t even know who it was behind that mask. Maybe she’s alive and living someone. I don’t know, and I don’t care.

Eventually I got a job here at the Mayward Medical Centre as a receptionist. I shouldn’t complain because Mayward, Kirk, is far nicer than Max Shreck my former employer in Gotham, who died also that night. Rumours say Catwoman electrocuted him to death, because Gotham police only found a charred grilled skeleton. She’d previously blown up a store of his. She probably knew what a bully he was! I hated him; but I don’t know why.

“Memory all alone with the memory…” A cat sings, in a stage production.

Selina snapped out of her reminisces by the cat like singing coming from the doorway. Kirk Mayward stood there. “Penny for your thoughts.”

“I think you’d be able to afford a little more than that Dr. Mayward.” Selina grinned getting up.

“Well, maybe. But I think you’d be able to accept one of my invites to dinner one night Miss Kyle.” He smiled walking over to him.

“I’m, I’m, not dating material Dr. Mayward.”

“Call me Kirk, Selina.” “Kirk.” Kirk raised his hand to her face. “No.” She backed away.

“Selina?” Kirk said, in his doctor tone, verging on apologetic. Though she left the room, not listening.

Chapter Two – Old Wounds Reopened

It was snowing. She remembered liking the snow as a child. But she wasn’t a child anymore. And without sounding cliché, she didn’t think she knew what she was anymore.

She was heading home. She’d cook her father’s dinner because Maggie was at the convent now, so she had to do it. Then she’d be off to the hospital to visit Mom. She felt guilty planing her visits, because she made it sound like an effort to go see her. Although it was. Sitting at the bedside, hearing how she was living in the past and had no job prospects. Maggie never had to listen to any of this. Mom was extremely happy when Maggie joined the convent. Hmmm? A bride of Jesus maybe she should do that. Closest you’d ever get to marriage she told herself.

She felt guilty also because she’d used mom’s illness as an excuse to go allow Kirk to come round. She couldn’t make her mind up if she wanted him to come round. He wasn’t a bad man. He was nice and she did like him. But how do I like him she wondered. She debated it, as she was startled. A black cat ran across in front of her. She sighed a single sigh of relief.

She walked up the pathway of her house. And remembered playing there as a child. She opened the door and walked in. She smelt whiskey. Dad had been up then.

Daddy was a complicated man. He wasn’t bad – but he wasn’t a good Dad. He’d have been better being an uncle who would visit every now and again. She didn’t feel guilty about her feeling regarding her father because he’d probably agree with her. Then again she felt very little concerning Daddy. He played very little part with her. Isis ran past her, meowing to be feed.

“Isis wait.” She said noticing the answering machine was flashing. “Oh, what wonderful messages have been left today. Couldn’t get up to answer the phone Dad? Nah. But a bottle of whiskey that not half as much an effort. Then again, Isis, probably better he don’t talk on the phone. He’d be on to Oprah again in no time.”

She pressed the button.

“Hello, Selina, its Maggie.” Came a voice. “Just ringing to let you know, again, that I won’t be able to go visit Mamma tonight…” Selina cut Maggie off, forwarding to the next message.

“Selina, Kirk here. I’m just ringing to say sorry. I’m sorry. I tried to tell you at the surgery. But you blanked me. So I’m ringing now because you’ve just left. And hopefully you’ll listen to this message and not just… er… I don’t know. I’m gonna hang up. Bye.” Selina herd him say, “Corn Dog” to himself under his breath. Hopefully it was to himself anyway. Hopefully. “Mr. Kyle. This is St. Thomas’s. Please when you get in could you please come straight here? Its urgent.” With that Selina grabbed her coat and rushed to the hospital.

***

Selina stood in the doorway of her mother’s room at St. Thomas’s. A nun stood behind her.

“I was too late then.” Selina mumbled numbly.

“There’s was nothing either of us could do, Selina, anyone. It was God’s wish.” Maggie said crossing herself.

“Give the religion a rest Maggie. I’m an atheist.” Selina’s cold voice mumbled.

“A lonely path to chose Selina. It offer’s so little comfort.” Sighed Maggie.

“You spoke to Karl?”

“No. I came directly from the convent. Do you wont me to do it? Or would you like to.” Asked Maggie.

“I’ll do it. I'm the oldest. I’ll tell Dad when he’s sober. So it’ll some time next year. Bastard.”

“Please Selina don’t curse. Not at a time like this.”

“Virgin ears, eh? Just like Mamma. She should have been a nun.”

“God rest her soul. God rest her soul.” Prayed Maggie.

Selina heard the footsteps coming down the hallway before anyone else. It surprised her that her hearing was so sensitive. She spun round shocking Maggie. Just behind her stood a nurse.

“Ms. Kyle?” The nurse questioned.

“Yes.” Selina said.

“I’m sorry about your mother. She was a very special lady. I'm sure you both knew that. She wasn’t alone. I hope you both can take some comfort in that – at this difficult of times. Is there anyone you’d like the hospital to contact?” Selina shook her head. “Selina your mother gave us this letter to give to you. She said you’d like to, ‘open it in privacy’.” The nurse handed Selina a small envelope. She looked at it. In neat, copperplate handwriting was wrote, ‘Selina’. The handwriting was unmistakably her mothers. Selina wondered what it contained.

“Thank you. Thank you for all you did for her. I'm, were, very grateful.”

***

Selina sat in the old mustang. Her mothers on car, and a small, single tear fell down her face. She sat quite and still for about five minutes. Mamma was gone. She didn’t want to cry in the hospital. She didn’t want to be a victim over again. Mamma was gone. All she had was Maggie and Kyle. What good were they to her? Maggie was a bride of Jesus and Karl was living happily as a teacher in Canada. She was alone. Always was alone.

She didn’t want to think about that so she pulled her letter out of her pocket. Her nostrils flared. She could smells Mamma’s perfume across the envelope. It was old fashioned and poor taste. Mamma taste.

She ripped open and revealed a single piece of paper. Mamma’s handwriting. A letter to Selina. Selina couldn’t help but feel apprehensive. What was this letter? Was it a daughter’s letter from her dead mother, a goodbye? Or was it a letter to tell her how little prospects she had? And to quickly find someone to marry? She didn’t know. It was short, one side. Selina read.

“Selina,

I don’t know how to begin a letter, quite like this one. Since, it’s no ordinary letter. I’ve kept something from you, you the police everybody. There’s something about yourself that you need to know.

When you were in hospital, just before your transfer to a hospital here, I came to Gotham, as you know. I went to your apartment Selina. Can you remember your apartment? A message along the wall read, “Hell Here”. And it was Selina. Black spray paint ran across the walls. In your bedroom, clothes lay cut up. A doll’s house lay in pieces on the floor. And on your bed lay an item of clothing. No ordinary item. Black with white stitching, sewn together like Frankenstein’s monster. It made the shape of a cat. Selina do you understand what I am trying to tell you. This suite was in tatters. There were elbow length gloves, tipped with, thimble made claws. Selina this was Catwoman’s suite. Selina I don’t know what made you do it. But you were the Catwoman.

Selina I tried, when I found out you had amnesia to keep this from you – from Karl, Maggie your father everyone. For your own sake. I felt guilty; I stole your life from you. But I believe for the right reasons. I believe that anyway. You know doubt may disagree. I’m sorry Selina.

I tried to dispose of the suite, the whip, but couldn’t. I stuffed it in a suitcase and it’s… in the attic at home. Selina it’s there if you don’t believe me. But I urge destroy it Selina for you own sake. In the end I couldn’t do what a mother should do. I’m sorry. I love you. Goodbye. Please forgive me.

Love,

Mamma

XX”

Selina screw the letter up and stared ahead. Memories rushed back. She knew why she didn’t let herself remember this.

***

She didn’t cry. She had good reason to cry. She found herself, driving fast. Faster home. Her foot pushed down heavily on the gas. She’d never driven so recklessly – yes I have. She remembered driving away from Wayne Manor – Batman’s home.

In her head she heard conversations… saw images:

An alley: “I just love a big strong man who's not afraid to show it, with someone half his size.”

A rooftop: “Life's a bitch - now so am I.”

On a terrace: “But a kiss can be even deadlier, if you mean it.”

The Catwoman: “I am Catwoman, hear me roar…”

***

Selina opened the door to her house, her house now. She looked into the living room; her father was sat on a chair, passed out. Leave him. She ran up the stairs to the door that led to the attic. She ran up into the attic, undoing the hairpins that held her hair up. Throwing the bifocals to floor. And she entered the attic.

She looked around. Flung open a chest. Dolls. Smiling faces. She grabbed them looking at them full of contempt. And threw the to the ground. She looked around and spotted a suitcase. She leaped for it. Opening it, by ripping it with her bare hands.

“Four, five, still alive…” Was sung in her head. She heard the sound of a stun gun.

She tipped the contents out. Clothes her clothes from when she was a girl. She looked around. There over in the other corner. A suitcase marked ‘Selina’. She walked slowly apprehensively, sultry.

She pulled it onto the floor. And slowly unzipped it. Inside was a white blanket. She pulled the blanket back and fell back herself. There in the suitcase was the Catwoman costume. Selina lifted out the mask, the stitching had come lose in some places. She held it up to her face, and watched inside… inside her mind the events played out.

She saw back in the Penguins hideout…

“And Bruce Wayne, why are you dressed up like Batman.” Max asked, confused.

“Because he is Batman you moron!”

“Was!” Max said, raising gun firing. Selina went to react, went to fire the whip, “Don’t!” Max said sharply.

“You killed me. The Penguin killed me. Batman killed me next. Three lives down, got enough to finish me off?” Selina screamed. “One way to find out…” Max said firing his gun, twice…

A tear slid down Selina’s face as she grabbed the rest of the costume and left the attic. She realised. She’d left the whip in the Arctic World.

Chapter Three – Inner Demons

“They say follow your heart, follow it through. But how can you when you're split in two?”

Face to Face Lyrics, Danny Elfman

“Working late?” Kirk said, creeping behind Selina.

“Yes, I'm boning up for your Bruce Wayne meeting in the morning…”

“Really? And what meeting is that Selina? Might I ask?”

“The one for Mr. Wayne’s hoped for investment, in the proposed power plant.”

“There’s no power plant Selina. This is a surgery – a medical surgery.” Kirk said. “And what is that file your holding?”

Selina looked down at the file in her hand. She shuddered at the sight of the titled file ‘Top Secret Scam’. “I, er, I er…”

“What did curiosity do to the cat?” Kirk asked.

“I’m no cat. Just an assistant. A secretary.”

“A very good one.”

Selina hazarded a guess: “To Good?” As Kirk nods, Selina borderlining comatose backs away. The she stops looks behind her: a window. “No!” She shouts. She looks back, only to be horrified. Kirk has gone, and she finds in his place a ghost from the past.

His white hair as prominent as ever. His bow tie, immaculate. Leather gloves. He smiles: “Can you still not live with yourself?”

“Max?” Selina begins to back away.

“Are you surprised to see me?” He laughs, wickedly. “Come on, Selina, we have unfinished business. A lot of unfinished business haven’t we? How’s life treating you?”

“Your dead…”

“Of course you made sure of that babe. Didn’t yeah. Anyway – how bout a kiss?” Max raises a stun gun in front of Selina’s face. She screams…

***

Selina’s eyes fired opened. She lay, without screaming, pale but not terrified. Her dream hadn’t bothered her, to be honest. What had disturbed her were the memories flooding back. The things she’s capable of. The things she didn’t realise she could do.

She looked down at the bottom of the bed. It was still there. The tattered vinyl suite, corset and mask. She wanted to scream, curse her mother do something! Selina do something! Just goddamn do something!

She picked the mask up and pressed it against her face. It smelt of dust, most likely from the attic. She fell back on the bed. And begin to think. If only the confusing bits would go away – she could decide better – maybe. But she doubted it! Bitch! Bitch!

She suddenly felt anger! Anger! Mother had stolen my life from me! The bitch knew all about this other life. This other existence – knew all the things I’d done. But she’d kept all of this from me. She saw me go through torture trying to find out what I’d, what had happened to me back in Gotham, and she’d known all along. She’d hidden it from me. Hid myself from myself.

Selina got up out of her bed. She looked around. Inside her was a swirling anger building up. The room was Selina Kyle age 9¼. She was now approaching thirty. She’d have redecorated but Mamma wouldn’t have liked it. Mamma was dead – now. Firstly…

Selina walked to the wall directly in front of her and yanked a crucifix of the wall. No more Catholicism – no more atonement. Selina opened her wardrobe. She skimmed through the clothes pulling out clothes that Mamma approved of. It all made sense. Mamma had chosen her clothes for her. Based on dutiful qualities. Made me go to church. To atone for my crimes. The world is full of corruption and crime. Don’t try to hide it Mamma.

Selina grabbed a black dress. Daring neckline, shortish skirt. Shortish she’d got. She waked to the bathroom and opened Mamma’s cabinet. She removed a bottle of black hair dye. Mamma was vain and died her black hair away. She told herself she didn’t know exactly what she’d do but she know knew more that ever before.

And its time for a change… I think.

Chapter Four – Burning Bright

"What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry?"

William Blake, Tyger Tyger

“Well Mrs. Bentmead, I’m sure I could squeeze you in sometime next week… er, I’m sorry Mrs. Bentmead, what was that?” Helena said startled. She looked ahead at the woman who’d just entered they surgery. Dressed in nothing but a thin black dress and wild black hair. “Yes, Mrs. Bentmead, 1.pm.” Helena made her formal goodbyes, repeating herself to the deaf old lady, then walked over to the woman. It had been snowing and some snow remained on the woman’s shoulders.

“Selina?” “You act surprised, did you expect someone else.” Selina said, sharply, but dazed. “I do work here Helena.”

“Selina you O.K?”

“Oh my god. I think I must be on one of those daytime quiz shows. And might I ask what the million dollar question is today?”

“I was just asking Selina. There’s no need to be anti-social.” Helena defensively added.

“When it comes to you Helena, there’s every right to be anti-social.” Selina snapped. “Plus it’s uncommon for my kind to be social. Only certain cousins of mine are.”

“What?” Helena walked away.

Selina looked around the waiting room. Christmas was always busy. Patient’s eyes were fixed on her.

“I’m sorry but I’m not the messiah, and can’t heal you. And neither can the Doc in there. Then again this isn’t the local shrinks place considering most of you are just old hypochondriacs.” Selina snapped walking to the desk.

Selina loaded up her computer. A shadow fell on her. She looked up, after affixing a post-it to her computer saying “LIFE’S A BITCH!” She turned to see Mr. Doolittle, a tall gaunt middle-aged man.

“Well hello sexy.”

“You talking to me Mr. Doolittle?” Doolittle nodded. “Strange considering I’m not a high scholar. Which is the normal type of girl you go for isn’t it?”

“What?!”

“Oops. I’m sorry wasn’t I meant to say anything? Well never mind, I don’t think the whole of New York heard us.”

“Bitch.”

“Ain’t I just?” Selina asked rhetorically.

“I'm gonna fucking complain bout this. You fuckin’ lesbian!”

“No, not a lesbian just I hate your kind.”

“What? The male race?”

“No. Dirty fucking perverts who go around and perve over anything that has legs and wears skirts, trousers etc I could go on.”

“You fucking cow!” Doolittle said swinging his hand as though to hit her. But was stopped Selina grabbed his hand, and yanked him to the desk. She held his head down and whispered: “Never try that again…” “Selina!” Kirk shouted from behind her. “Selina!” Kirk ran and grabbed Selina away from Doolittle.

“Kirk what you doing? He’s scum. He deserves…”

“Selina go home. I have no choice other than to fire you. Go.”

Selina stared at Kirk, and then right hooked him.

Epilogue – Meow

“They were highly efficient cat-burglars as well”

T. S. Elliot

Selina drank a large whiskey. Exactly why she didn’t know, maybe because she felt like it she told herself. She looked around the living room. On the table, a few remaining sleeping tablets were spilt. Just in front of her, her father’s cold body sat in the chair. In his hand an empty bottle of beer. Selina had gotten home four hours ago, to find her father dead in the chair, an overdose of her mothers sleeping tablets. Selina had wanted to cry, scream or shot, or all of them. Instead she sat in the opposite chair and talked. Was she going mad, was one of the topics. Her father was the perfect listener because he said nothing. Most of the time he was unable. Like she always said, he wasn’t a bad man just not a good father. It wasn’t his fault of course.

She got up and covered his face with a blanket and headed upstairs.

She’d redone her bedroom. The walls were adorned with writing, in black marker. “HELL IS HERE!” “FREE AT LAST? I WISH” “VIOLENCE IS BLISS” “EXPRESS MYSELF, DON’T REPRESS MYSELF” “I DO WHAT I WANT, WHEN I WANT” “RELAXATION IS FICTION”. Her mother would be turning in her grave. On the bed laid out as if asleep was the Catwoman suite.

Selina grabbed the suite and dragged it over to a desk. She pulled a sewing box from under and fished out some needles, and white cotton. She set about repairing it witch proved a task. She sew up what she could although some parts, most of it, was beyond repair.

It took an hour to sew up what she could and then she removed the black dress. First she squeezed herself into the black cat suite, and heard a “rip”. She looked down and on the left thigh were a large tear and a pale skin tone shown through the black vinyl. She zipped up the back, and noticed the thread had come undone at the right shoulder. She managed to do the corset up quite easily since she’d last dawned it; it had lasted quite well. Quickly she slid the boots on and fastened them. Pulling the gloves on, she noticed that one claw had come undone. She hissed, but ignored it. Her hard preserving repair work had not been in total vain, when pulling the mask into place, the stitching held. She purred with delight. Her eyes narrowed with ecstasy as a feline’s do.

***

Inside the family shed she’d found what she’d wanted. A nice full bottle of petrol, and she picked it up and danced around the snow covered garden in childish, but sexual delight. She unscrewed the top of the petrol with her thimble talons. And slowly trail of petrol into the house. She circled the house, every object of painful pleasure, painful to her. She circled her father’s corpse, dipping her finger into the petrol and makes a crucifix on his head.

“You always said, you wanted to be cremated.” She purred.

***

The road on which the Kyle house was situated looked on peaceful. The fire blazed, and screaming echoed through the neighbour hood.

“Officer I think Mr. Kyle and his daughter is in there. I’m sure! Officer do something!” Came the voice of an elderly neighbour.

Maggie Kyle ran up the street. “Officer! Officer!”

“Yes sister?”

“Officer that’s my house, I'm Sister Magdalene, Maggie Kyle.”

“Sister, please stay calm. Please.”

“Oh, Maggie, Selina and your father are in there!”

Something gave Maggie in eerie feeling. Inside her, building up came an unholy revelation. She looked over to the houses on the other side of the road, and there, a black silhouette stood.

On the rooftop over the road, stood a shadow from the city of Gotham. Black vinyl, small ears, and tight corset. From the rooftop, in dry enunciation Selina uttered the words, “Meow.”

“No, my sister isn't here now.” Maggie said.