**Trigger warnings:**

Domestic, Emotional, Physical, and Verbal Abuse.

Drug/Alcohol Abuse, Bullying, Violent Content, Mental Illness

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***Disclaimer: This is a work of Fanfiction, as none of the content are my original work. The characters are created by DC comics. The content belongs to Warner Bros and DC, as the film was directed by Todd Phillips and produced by Warner Bros Pictures, DC films, and Joint Effort, in association with Bron Creative and Village Roadshow Pictures, distributed by Warner Bros. All original characters are the property of Kathlynne Stephens. Thank you for your support***

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Kris’ Not So Wonderful Life

The life of Kristen, or ‘Kris,’ as everyone called the troubled teen, dealt with a terrible life. From the day she was born, she was a helpless tiny baby with brown eyes that seemed to have full of life and hope in her despite the gloom of Gotham. Her father, a stout man and an alcoholic. He could not care less about his daughter. He spent a majority of the money that his wife had worked so hard to earn on booze and gambling. Her mother, while she was no saint herself, still managed to put food on the table in the desolate slob of their apartment complex. The fights she listened to as a young child often kept her awake as she had little to no choice but to listen to them bicker.

One night when she was six years old, as Kris was busy putting away her dolls, it was a simple routine before bedtime else she would ‘get her butt whooped.’ Kris, with her long black hair, was about to settle into bed with her pink pajamas when she heard her mom and dad fight once again. The noise was enough to cover her ears and cry, but she knew better than to do that even at such a young age. She was becoming desensitized, but even then, she tried to crawl into bed and force a pillow on her head through the muffled angry sounds.

“Jesus, Steve, you spent five hundred dollars on Black Jack again? What kind of idiot do you take me for, after everything I have done for this household!” Kris heard her mother say as a sharp cry of pain was heard from her, as she heard glass breaking.

It was enough to make Kris want to run out to protect her mother, but she knew that would only anger her father further. Kris restrained herself from even so much as making a noise, as she heard a long drawn out silence that spoke volumes. It worried Kris to where she thought her father had really hurt her mother and nearly broke all of her restraints.

Finally,  she heard whimpering indicating her mother was all right. It gave Kris relief as her father spat out, “Yeah, that’s what I thought Ellie, you pathetic slop.”

That night, followed by many other nights of verbal and physical abuse, Kris realized how much her mother regretted having her. It had dawned on her that inevitable fact, as she too ended up suffering from her father’s abuse. At the same time, her mother did nothing about it. As Kris grew older, the hazel-eyed gaze of her mother would look more distant and ice-cold upon Kris’ direction.

It only got worse when Kris reached sixteen when she needed to contribute to the household. If it meant supporting her father’s drunken ventures, while the mother’s health deteriorated every day because of chronic pain and headaches. Her mother’s illness left her unable to physically work, leaving Kris to take up the burden of providing for the family. It left a sense of malicious irony, of being needed and not wanted. Kris learned everything to know in life. People only needed you if it is to their benefit. Kris kept that in mind as she first started on petty theft and criminal acts on the streets of Gotham to contribute to the family. It became squashed when her parents lectured Kris on how to make a proper living in the household of Gnowsky. The criminal acts were ‘ungodly,’ ‘sinful,’ and a ‘disgrace’ to the catholic upbringing. But she never saw her parents live by it, as the family was no means of social importance. Kris attempted to make a few bucks hopping from job to job as a waitress, a maid, and even a performer singing at variety shows in clubs. The singing, the spotlight, gave a momentary reprieve for all the heartache she suffered at home. It gave her a sense of freedom even if no one listened to or gave compliments to her, as the wage was only barely minimum. But dreams never pay the bills in a city like Gotham.

Kris had to learn the hard way. She came home one night from a performance only to be met with a harsh slap from her father. “You’re never going to that club, Kristen. Or so help me God, you will instantly regret it. Do you understand me?” her father yelled in her face.

Kris glanced at her mother and pleaded for help. A way to defend her, not caring if it was a weakness at that moment. But she was rewarded with silence and a cold gaze she had seen from her mother one too many times. It was that night when Kris gave up hope and became completely desensitized to everything. Nothing could ever surprise her anymore, no matter what she did to dare defy the dysfunctional norm of her family.

Kris felled into a routine, like clockwork, whether or not she liked it. It involved getting groceries, giving her father a beer, giving her mother pain medication, cooking dinner, all the while enduring the complaints and abuse before she even laid down her head. It became etched into her mind this is what she needed to do to survive, having the worst of life handed to you. She repeated this knowledge in her head every night before she went to sleep. After all, was this not what family and life were all about?

It was enough to make Kris tear up night by night, not in sadness, but of resentment and anger at her own family. She hated the existence of being in this situation. She hated her father and mother. Hated the treatment she received all her life. If she did not have an ounce of goodness and obligation in her, she would have left the toxic family dynamic a long time ago. But then where would she be in the city of Gotham with no roof over her head or food on the table? It was damned if she did and damned if she did not, no matter what route she would take. No one, not even the police, would understand the hardship she endured all her life.

Every night these recurring thoughts of hate, resentment, and bitterness danced around her mind. It made her silently cry herself to sleep, repeating these thoughts of hatred and disdain for her own family. Kris wished every single night that her family would disappear or just not exist, only for the sun to rise and for her to follow her daily routine. It made her wonder if someone could have more of a pathetic existence of life than herself. She did not count on that thought. Anyone with eyes could see everyone in the middle, and the lower class was suffering too. Despite this reasoning, she could not help but dwell on it from time to time. The thought would soon become prophetic. Unknown to her, a man in his thirties lived his own type of pitiful existence that would challenge and question everything she knew about suffering.

****If you or someone else you know is experiencing a mental health crisis or is experiencing domestic violence, contact the SAMHSA treatment referral helpline 1-877-SAMHSA7 (1-877-726-4727), the National Domestic Violence helpline 1-800-799-7233 or TTY 1-800-787-3224, or call 911****