𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄: 𝓣𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓛𝓸𝓸𝓹
𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒 𝐔𝐏 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃ᝰ.ᐟ
𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚝'𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝙽𝚎𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝, 𝙰𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛, 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚂𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗; 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚢𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚜𝚎, 𝙴𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚐𝚎 ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹
The familiar silence brought her back to her senses as she slumped the upper half of her body against the table. Time seems to fly fast when you're doing something fun, right? (Name) tapped her pencil against the page of her sketchbook, her face resembled one of frustration. It was currently 21:03am and there was not a single trace of anyone or anything. “Maybe they're still preparing for it....I did ask Alfred yesterday to tell them that today's my 11th birthday.” A knock on the door interrupting her racing thoughts.
“Miss (Name)? Are you still awake?” She sprung up from her chair and rushed to open the door. Her eager eyes looked up at him hoping for good news but was met with a pitiful gaze. The outstretched smile slowed faded as her shoulders slumped down. “Are they are here...Right? To celebrate my birthday?” Alfred looked down at her small form in silent sorrow. The way she pulled at the sleeve of her nightgown using it to prevent the tears from falling, the tremble of her lower lip and her bloodshot eyes that avoided his own.
“I'm afraid not, Miss (Name).”
Each and every year whilst Bruce trained the rest of the family, (Name) was nothing more but a bystander. The moment she had set foot in the house no matter how hard she tried to get along with Dick, he'd brush her off offering his usual charismatic smile and a brief pat on the head. But as time passed, so did his attention on her. Jason wanted nothing to do with her and made it clear. She tried to sit next to him? Next (Name) knows he sits up and walks out of the room.
Tim acted as if he didn't notice her presence and carried on with his life. However if push comes to shove them she'd manage to get a sentence out of him. Each time you entered his office as a kid to show off your sketches, Bruce would always turn a blind eye to it. A glance was all you would get if you were lucky. Most of the time he was on his laptop typing away at it and during night he would become the masked hero, Batman. There was no time for you in his schedule and you knew it.
𝗦𝗼 𝘄𝗵𝘆 𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺?
“Young lady I'm talking to you!”
Your body jolted slightly as you snapped back into reality, the whole class was staring as the history teacher, Miss Bateman shook her head in disappointment. “You do know I've been calling you for like two minutes, correct?” You sat up straight on your chair from your desk and began to feel heat rising in your cheeks. “Sorry Miss Bateman I just-”
“Zoned out? Daydreaming? Honestly (Name) trying to get your attention is like trying talking to a brick wall. No response and it's as if I'm talking to myself. My question was name a famous structure that hasn't collapsed to this day.” You hadn't drank water since this morning so it was beginning to take a toll on your poor throat. “Pyramid of GiZA-” Your voice cracked a bit but it didn't seem to bother Miss Bateman who gave you a satisfied nod and continued to teach. “You should learn to pay more attention in class. No wonder why my grades are higher than yours.” You fought the urge to roll your eyes.
Damian also attended every class you went to and as always he had to leave a bitter comment that made you want to wrangle his throat. Not like you could without getting knocked down to the floor with a bleeding nose. “Nobody asked you dipshit. You always have some kind of comment for everything I do. Focus on your own life.” You whispered back before turning back to writing down notes. You felt the pinning gaze of some of your classmates burning at the back of your head. You had to admit that you envied him infact you were envious of your family.
Especially Stephanie, the girl of the family. They pampered her and treated her as though she were porcelain, you were nothing to her. Nothing to them. Sometimes you sit on the rooftops watching them fight and work together to defend their city. You wished you were special like them. Whilst Dick and Damian got all the attention at school with a few secret admirers here and there. Instead you were looked down upon and you would hear hushed whispers of rumors about you. Why you?
Decades later and you had finally gotten a job as a detective in order to be acknowledged and respected by Bruce and your siblings. Not because it was your dream to become one. Decaf coffee and stale bread was a delicacy at best and files full of cases unsolved stacked in piles on your desk as you would stay up late solving them and end up falling asleep on top of them.
Days became a blur as you worked on your cases, having to see the mutilated bodies of the deceased and again feeding off of scraps of food. Scars of the past decorating the skin of your clothed arms, scars that brought back memories. Some of your younger colleagues admired you from afar as you helped families and companies with their case with ease.
“You know Detective (Name)...Sometimes I wish I was like you.” You turned to face your younger colleague who leaned against the doorway, eyes as bright as street lamps following your movement. What they didn't expect was for you to laugh at them. And as your mocking laughter died down you turned back to your board full of pictures of cases you were almost done solving. “No you don't.”
You hadn't heard from your family for a long time- no you haven't heard from Alfred in for a long time and wondered how he was doing as you spun around your office chair, a bleak expression lingering for a moment on your face. As a kid, sleep was your only escape from reality but now the only thing you wanted to do was stay awake. Whenever you slept visions from the past pestered you with such intensity, you would wake up drenched in sweat, clothing soaked and clinging to your skin.
𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱
Standing on top of the Gotham Museum's roof, you looked down at the racing cars on the grimey streets of Gotham. It was raining heavily, the sound of the raindroplets colliding with the ground made you forget what you were about to do. All it took was a leap of 'faith'.
The next day your face was plastered all over the newspapers along with your body covered with blood stained cloth in order to censor the graphic scene of suicide. The death of (Name) Wayne.
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍ᝰ.ᐟ
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