Chapter 1: i don't believe any of it
summary: You woke up when you were sure that you died. Now you meet strange people in a strange world when all you were trying to do was get better.
tw: insinuation of being taken advantage of, mentions of perverted gym teachers, religious questioning? If there is more that I missed, please let me know.
Is God good? Grandma always said he was, but if he was good why would you be here and not home? This house, a manor more than anything, was nerve wracking. You could tell the person who owned it was insanely rich from the chandelier to the extremely antique furnished hallways. There was a black gate when you first arrived, and you almost thought you were going to be kidnapped. Mr.Nightwing said you wouldn’t be, but you can hardly trust anyone these days, especially a guy who parades around in a costume.
There was an elderly man who greeted you at the door beside Mr.Nightwing. He seemed shocked at first, but Mr.Nightwing explained that the owner of this house, Bruce Wayne, was known for taking children in. You’re not sure if that’s good or not, but you’re already here. If something worse happens, you’ll find a way out. You always do.
“Uhm, Mr.Alfred, I can make my own tea.” You were now in their dining room. The table was long, with at least ten chairs surrounding it. The butler, you couldn’t imagine calling Mr.Alfred that, sat you down and asked if you would like anything. You didn’t want to be impolite, so quietly declined, but Mr.Nightwing said you hadn’t eaten since you were checked out from the hospital. Snitch. The old man went into a fit about it and started cooking you some food, but you felt bad letting him do all the work, you were raised with manners after all.
“If you must, my dear.” He huffed at that and for a moment you’re reminded of your grandmother. She always said to help the old and the really young, and you’re trying your best, but he’s really stubborn. Mr.Nightwing already left, and you’re glad. If Mr.Alfred tried anything, you could fight him off, but a grown man? You don’t know if you’d be able to. You set up a pot on the stove and start to heat the water.
“Yes?” You wonder how old he was. He seemed at least in his seventies.
“Why was Mr.Nightwing dressed weirdly, and why is he named that?” He raises an eyebrow at your question. You suppose it must be normal for people to dress in weird costumes if he’s confused by such an inquiry. Maybe this city was a weird cult place, your grandma said to watch out for those.
“They ain’t doin’ the lord’s work, that’s for sure.”
She always said that, but you don’t think she was either. You’ve never told her that.
“Are you from here, my girl?” You can tell he’s old from what he calls you. Every elder at church called you that, and then they would nip at your face and say you’ve gotten so tall, even though you just saw them last Sunday. That was years ago though, you can’t even remember the last time you went to church.
“No, sir. I lived in the country, working in the fields.” You think you said too much, but you’re unsure. Your grandma always said you spread your business around to anyone, especially your therapist. You think that’s dumb though. What’s the point of having one if you don’t talk about your problems? She popped you right after, saying you had a smart mouth. You stopped telling your therapist what happened at home after that.
“Ah, I see. It is not uncommon for you to be ignorant of those in the city, then. As you know, vigilantes and heroes alike roam the Earth. In Gotham, there are many of them who protect the city at night, Nightwing is one of them, though he is often in Bludhaven.” You think because he’s so old he has dementia. Heroes with powers don’t exist. Certainly not where you’re from.
“Oh.” You think this city is a weird cult. Maybe you would have been better off denying Mr.Nightwing’s offer.
“You surely must have heard of Batman? He is in the Justice League, of course.” Batman, like in the comics? Batman isn’t real. You think Mr.Alfred has nuts loose in his head. You wrap your arms around yourself. You wish your therapist was here. Mrs.B always knew what to do. You think you miss her the most from being dead. Well, are you dead? You don’t feel dead. Maybe you're in the afterlife, but shouldn’t you be in Heaven? You followed all of God’s rules, well most of them.
What if you reincarnated? Your grandma said that wasn’t real though, but what if it is? But if you reincarnated, wouldn’t you be reborn again? You don’t know, and you squeeze yourself tighter. You don’t answer Mr.Alfred’s question, you just pour the hot water into your coffee cup. You chose a green tea, and it seeps in the steaming water.
“Master Bruce.” You turn around and there’s a very tall man in a black suit. This must be Mr.Wayne. You can tell because he embodies powerful and rich. Mr.Alfred also mentioned his first name, but you think you would have known without the name reveal.
“You must be who Nightwing mentioned. It’s a pleasure.” He offers a charming smile and a handshake. You tense; rich men took what they wanted without care of who they hurt. That smile was one of lies and deceit. You wouldn't be unkind; however, you weren’t raised in a barn. Though, you would have preferred barn animals over people.
You take his handshake, and you make sure to keep your grip firm. Your grandpa used to say that’s how someone knows your worth, from a good handshake. Maybe if he knew your worth, he wouldn’t bother you, or maybe he would. You never knew with men, especially rich ones. “Mr. Wayne.” Your voice is soft when you speak.
“Please, sit.” So, you do, only after he does. Men are often like animals, and you feel as if at this moment, Mr.Wayne is showing his belly to show he’s no threat.
“I apologize for imposing, sir. I had nowhere to stay for the night and Mr.Nightwing took me here.” Mr.Wayne observes you. You feel as if all of your secrets are being revealed, even if you hadn’t said anything. You wish he’d look away. You squeeze your fingers. Mrs.B said that was another good thing to do when you were tense or uneasy.
“I was told as much. I assure you that you are no bother, but do you have no home to return to?” You’re unsure of how honest you should be.
“No, sir. I have no one to return to, it’s just been me for a very long time.” It wasn’t fully untrue. Your grandfather passed away years ago, and your grandmother was admitted to the hospital for elderly care only a year ago. It’s just you, it has been for a while now.
He’s watching you again, to tell if you’re lying. You wish you were, but you aren’t. “I see. You may stay the night, and we’ll go from there. Alfred, please prepare a room.” You think you passed the test. You hope there’s a lock in your room.
“Of course, Master Wayne.” He bows perfectly. You think it’s a talent.
“I really appreciate this, Mr.Wayne.” He smiles, you can’t tell if it’s fake or not. Most smiles usually are.
“Please, just call me Bruce. Most of my children already do.” He has children, hopefully he has daughters. You’d feel safer if he did, maybe he won’t be heartless like most men if he has a daughter. Though, you know many that do and still are awful, like your gym teachers or your preacher. Every gym coach you’ve ever met is either a terrible teacher or a pervert. Most of the time it’s both.
You drink your tea. The cup is pretty. It’s red with green vines spread across the base. The colors clash, but the design is a lovely one. “Well, I think I’ll retire for the night. See you in the morning.” That’s a very “dad” thing to say. Well, you think it is, you wouldn't really know. Your dad was another mistake your mom made. That’s certainly one of the few things you and your grandmother agreed about. You watch him walk out and soon after Mr.Alfred gracefully presents himself once more.
You’re not sure if he’s a good man, but he’s very proper, and you know your grandma would approve of him. Well, now you’re not so sure if he’s good. Many of the men she liked weren’t known for their over-the-top qualities. You’re taken upstairs and there’s many, many doors. You don’t understand why a house needs these many rooms. You try to plan out an escape route if things go to shit, but there’s so many turns and hallways that you just give up halfway. You hope there’s a window in your room so you can jump out, just in case.
You’re finally taken to a door. “This is where you’ll be staying for the night, miss. There should be clothes placed on your bed. Have a good night.”
“You too, and thank you, Mr.Alfred.” He smiles, as you close the door. Granny pajamas lay on the bed and the clothes fit perfectly. It freaks you out, but Mr.Wayne could have easily done something if he really wanted too. The man is built like a truck. Thankfully, there is a lock on the door, and you finally feel yourself relax in this strange place. There’s no window, but you suppose you can make do with what you have.
You sleep, and unfortunately, you remember.
His hand slides across the side of your face, and then it grips your jaw. You want to puke.