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He honestly didn’t know what to do. Who would help someone like him. Who would even believe him.
He was supposed to be a hero.
But he was weak.
He was pathetic.
He was nothing.
He deserved this.
It was all his fault.
None of this would have happened if he had just listened.
Damian slowly pulled himself up off of the stained kitchen tiles. His breath hitched as he practically crawled down the hallway, towards the bathroom. His body ached with every breath he took.
He stood in front of the sink for a moment as he struggled to open the tap. If the pain that shot up his arm was any indication, he was quite sure his right hand was broken. The cold water stung as it splashed against his face, catching on the cuts that adorned his face.
The doorbell rang echoing distantly throughout the house, but Damian ignored it. Instead he watched the water fall back into the sink, barely making out the blood and the grime as it mixed into water, swirling down the drain under the dim light coming from the hallway.
Washing away all evidence of his sins.
He felt numb, like he always did.
It had been his own fault. He had been stupid.
He deserved everything he got.
And even if he didn’t … it wasn’t like he had anywhere to go.
There was nobody to turn to.
Who would even believe him.
He squinted slightly as stared at the stranger looking across from him in the mirror, for the first time since he entered the bathroom. The light barely illuminated his reflection. He was visibly dishevelled. His clothes and hair a mess but the darkness of the room hid the bruises he knew had been forming over the past few months. His face was gaunt, as though he hadn’t eaten properly in weeks. His eyes were, sunken and hollow as they stared back at him, empty – lacking the fire that used to fuel his every breath.
Who was the person staring back at him, he couldn’t even recognise himself anymore.
The problem was he just never learnt.
Jon was right … for someone so smart he was just so stupid.
Some people just needed a bit of tough love.
Without Jon, who would love him.
This wasn’t Jon’s fault.
Damian had brought this upon himself. He should have listened. This was his own fault, he should have…
“Dames, you home?” his brother called from the hallway, filling Damian with blind panic.
What was he doing here. He couldn’t be here. He would think him pathetic.
Drake would laugh and say that it was his own fault, Damian deserved everything he got. His brother would agree that Jon was right, that Damian was useless, an idiot.
“Damian? I just wanted to talk about what happened yesterday.” Tim’s voice carried from the hallway. The bruised and battered robin grimaced as he scrubbed his face with a hand towel and attempted to fix up his clothing.
It was likely that he didn’t even need to bother. Everyone else probably already knew and laughed because of how weak he was. Of course, they knew – His whole family was made up of detectives. He should know how to deal with a little pain.
He should be better. Jon loved him, it was just that Damian could be so head strong and insolent all the time. He was reckless and made Jon worry.
His boyfriend didn’t want to hurt him, but how else would he learn.
“Damian?” Tim called out to him once again, this time from the door of the bathroom “Is everything… holy… what did you do?” His brother accused as their eyes met through the mirror.
He wanted to tell the truth, put everything out there and have his worst fears confirmed. He wanted his brother to laugh at him and call him pathetic, to confirm that everyone knew just so the little voice, he was trying not to listen to would shut up.
The voice that told him that he didn’t deserve this. The voice that begged him to realise that this wasn’t right. That there was something wrong with Jon. The voice that urged him to tell Drake everything, to bare his soul and talk to his brother about how it had started months ago with something so small, with a stupid comment and was now to the point where Damian never felt safe, how he was always so scared and alone all the time and he just needed someone, anyone to save him because he was weak and stupid. Because he was pathetic and really all he wanted was for someone to save him from the boy who was supposed to be the love of his life. He boy who was supposed to be a hero.
“Tch… It’s none of your concern Drake” Damian sneered instead “I didn’t invite you in, so get out”
“Damian” Tim repeated obviously concerned as he reached out a hand toward Damian. The youngest Wayne flinched, struggling internally as he fought to form a coherent thought under weight of his brother’s anxious eyes upon him.
“Seriously Drake you are a complete waste of space, I don’t know why you’re even here. I thought I was done with you once I moved out of the manor” He spat, using his old hatred as a shield, goading his brother into a fight. Damian spun around to face his brother, ignoring the breathtaking pain that shot up his hand as he shoved Tim hard.
Tim sighed “This was clearly a mistake” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head.
“Fuck you Drake. You are worthless, pathetic piece of trash that isn’t worthy of my time, let alone the air you breath. No one wants you Drake. Your unwanted, unlovable, just trash that we forgot to take out. Now get the hell out of my house, before I make you” someone yelled spewing hateful vitriol at his older brother and it took Damian a moment to realise that it was him, he was the one saying all these hateful words. Words that he usually directed at himself were now being used as weapons against his brother.
“I didn’t come here to fight. I realised Dick was right for once and that I was out of line. I literally came here to apologise but fuck it. Screw you Demon, I don’t give a shit” Tim huffed, rolling his eyes as he turned around and headed for the door.
Damian closed his eyes. This was for the best, he told himself as he cradled his arm against his chest and listened for the slamming of his front door.
Jon was right.
He ruined everything.
It was all his fault.
He deserved this.