□Mara□

I almost ran out of the Batcave, to get away from my father as quick as possible. I didn't really know where to go for some reason, so I just ran up the stairs, headed for my room. I didn't let a single tear escape my eyes as I did, not wanting to let my unsuccessful try at catching my killer go to waste with tears of pity.

I make my way upstairs with my best try at elegance, then throw that out the window as I tripped into the elevator as my foot got caught in the tiny ass space between the elevator and the floor.

I fell flat onto my face, my hands flailing to grab the railing nearby, with the doors closing behind me. I'm glad the elevator to the Manor isn't visible from the rest of the cave.

Cursing as I stood, I rubbed my chin as, pulling back my hand to reveal blood.

"Shit," I mutter, rolling my eyes at my clumsiness. I'm suddenly so fucking fed up with myself, that I want to scream.

My throat becomes dry, my jaw clenches, and the only thing that keeps me from punching the metal elevator bars is my head.

The logical part of my head anyways. The illogical- or the more creative part - of my brain is screaming at me to go back down there.

To go scream my lungs out at my father, to lash out, something. To go back down there and tell him I didn't die, that I'm standing right in front of him, alive and well.

To explain to him that he should've been able to stop my killer from six feet away. That's just above his own height length away. How could he have not caught him?

And if he still doesn't listen to me -- then I'll go back out there, and draw the clownman out. To take a fucking knife from the kitchen and kill him myse-

NO.
Close the door. Bolt it. Now.

Dear God, if I can't get my own shit together, how the fuck did I think I could actually pull this off exactly?

In my right mind, how did I think I could pull this off?

I dont know.

A light, springy sound brings me out of my thoughts, and I focus my eyes to the opened elevator door. I step out, breathing in the fresh air of the Manor.

Well, more like polished and squeaky clean air if the Manor, probably thanks to Alfred.

Either way, it felt extremely good to do so -- to be free of the stuffy air. It's like when you catch a cold, and your stuck at home, until you get better.

Then, once you do get better, you get to go back to school. On the day of a field trip, may I add, and you get to school at eight in the morning, sharp. And then the smell of the dewy grass, the morning fog, and the subtle quietness of the school takes over your senses.

That's what it feels like to be out of the Cave, and into the Manor, let alone my room. My room -- well I've missed it. Badly. Sleeping on the hospital cot that's caked with dried blood isn't my personal favorite place to sleep.

I just stare around me, taking in the room. It's almost calming, in a sense that the only thing I have to worry about is close to nothing. But I know that's not true, and my anger flares once again, being blown on by an imaginary wind.

I roll my eyes, exuding my irritation, and find myself walking quickly to the main entrance, near the marble stairs. I'm not aware of my surroundings as I walk up them, but I do as I reach a step.

My body lurches forward, after my feet stopped abruptly, landing on my hands. Hunched on all fours on the stairs, my breath becomes short, like I'm holding it in, and my eyes shut. I don't understand what the fuck is going on, and my shoulders tense up, my muscles on fire.

I dont understand anything that's happening, and I open my eyes, expecting to see a gun to my forehead. I expect it to just be over with, as the ticking in my head becomes ever so loud, and the glass shattering around me wants me to curl into a little ball. Wants me to protect myself, to save myself from everyone who ever wanted to hurt me.

But then I exhale out of instinct, and my eyes blink.

Once, twice, three times.

I find myself standing on the stairs, halfway up from the ground floor.

The same spot Damian and I got shot at.

What the hell just happened?

I never fell down on the stairs, I never wanted to curl into a little ball, meaning the scene in my head never happened.

I don't understand it. Why can't I go upstairs? Why won't my body listen to me, instead of staying rooted to my spot, not budging a centimeter fowards? Why can't I go upstairs?

I'm even more frustrated with myself, cursing at myself for letting the unknown force stop me dead on my tracks. I'm so disgusted, confused, and enraged with myself that I don't notice the presence near me.

"Mara?" I whip around, shoving at the person behind me, a small dose of adrenaline spiking through me.

Dick doesn't move an inch off the stairs as I fell back towards the thick wall and the railing of the stairs. It separates me and the ground floor below.

He reaches out after a moment, taking my arms and helping me up.

"You okay? I didn't mean to startle you,"

"I'm fine, just don't do it again please."

"Yeah, sorry. I just wanted to talk, if that was okay with you?"

I'm quiet for a moment, contemplating whether or not my own emotional problems will get in the way of a talk with him. I decide I can, and will, be fine enough to talk with him, as long as he doesn't bring up Bruce.

"Okay," he takes a breath, looking around at the staircase. "You wanna go upstairs and talk?"

"No," I reply quickly.

"Oh, ok -"

"Could we just sit here?" I ask, sitting down on the stairs, feeling myself steady as I do. He nods, taking a place next to me. He's in a tight fitted black t-shirt and sweatpants to match, no longer in his suit.

He clears his throat, trying to make eye contact with me. I pretend to not notice and stare ahead at the pearly white ceiling of the entrance. Compared to the darker inner walls of the house, the foyer is the brightest room in the entire Manor.

"Mara, I'm here to apologize. This is my fault. Bruce is angry at you because of my advice -- which was terrible. I shouldn't have given it to you as your older brother, as a supposed good influence on you. I'm sorry you're stuck in this situation and I'm sorry you have to deal with all of this now. And for the fact that everyone in this house, including me, doesn't listen to you sometimes when you have something to say."

He pauses as I turn to look at him, feeling the heart in his words. I'm grateful to have him around, because otherwise I would probably piss them off so much they would get rid of me.

Just like she did..

But Dick won't let that happen. She isn't coming back because she left me first. And if anything, if I were to be separated from this household, then I would sure as hell make sure that it would be by my own actions. I won't let anyone else hurt me the same way she did.

"I understand, Dick," my voice is quiet and soft, reflecting my own emotions that flood through me.

If anything, love from someone can overpower your own self hatred, right? I mean, Dick's words are proving that to me right now.

"Thanks M. And there's something else too. You don't have to say anything about it, because I don't want to pressure you in anyway. And you can tell me to shut up at any point, okay?" His eyes tell me his pain without him saying it. And then it hits me, and I know what he's dreaded telling me about.

I just nod subconsciously, not stopping myself before it's too late.

"Personally, Mara, I don't want you to answer this question. Nor do I even want to have to ask it, based on the, uh, recent events that have occurred. But it has to be asked. For your safety, you know?"

"Dick just tell me."

He inhales, and I drop my head into my hands.

"Look, Dad asked me weeks ago, at the hospital. And I said yes, that I do. He gave me an option to say I don't have to go through anything you guys went through, saying I could quit whenever I wanted to. But now - now, it seems like I have no other option," I don't even recognize my own voice -- I sigh, the heartfelt moment being over.

Dick's caring words are nice to hear I won't lie, I know it's probably the last nice thing I'll hear in a while. I mean, I live on Earth. The world -- Earth -- isn't nice. My killer sure as hell isn't nice. The world is cold, hard, unfair, and so cruel.

I don't see him, but Dick gets up and walks down the stairs, his shoes the only thing filling the heavy silence.

And the heavy silence settles on my shoulders, the world leaving that for me to figure out -- leaving the choice I made to take the same path Dick did to me, myself, and I.
I know he doesn't want me to, because of what he's done in his life.

He doesn't want those burdens on me. And I get that, I really do. But like I said, the world is cold, hard, unfair, and cruel. It's a shitshow everyday, and it's just to get you to survive the day.

So, with that said, that inevitably means I have to be cruel right on back.