Mask off

Cold Robin, Dead Robins

Carried stormed up to her room, slamming the door for an extra flair of dramatics. She huffed as she sat down on her bed. Her and Batman had gotten in a fight. She was too "reckless" Carrie had to save people; that's why she became Robin! The girl knew that Bruce didn't mean any harm when he told her this. He wanted her to stay safe, and she knew that, but God, it was annoying. It seemed like she couldn't do anything without a bat or bird looming over her shoulder. She enjoyed being Robin, loved the adrenaline and the praise, but it just got overwhelming.

Carrie knows why they are doing it. Damian's death had left the family in pieces. As much as Carried tried to help, nothing could fix this. Not unless Damian came back to life. The family seemed to fight daily. The arguments had nothing to do with Damian's death yet, at the same time, everything to do with Damian's death. They were so convinced on the fact that Damian wouldn't come back to life; that it was the end of the road for that bird. Carried didn't understand. Heroes come back to life every day. Jason did when the Joker murdered him. Damian even came back to life when he was first Robin!

They still felt guilty, genuinely convinced that Damian's death was their fault. They didn't know if Damian let the Joker kill him or if he was just murdered. They were always around Carrie, checking up on her and making sure that she was okay. She felt terrible if she pushed them away, but the constant attention was getting annoying. Carrie was supposed to help them, make them cope with Damian's death, but nothing seemed to work.

Carrie doesn't know how she could fill Damian's shoes. She wanted to be a good Robin; A robin that Damian would make impressed by. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that maybe she wasn't the best Robin. Perhaps she wasn't meant to be Robin. 

She heard stories of Damian. They had so many stories of the boy, yet so little. There were never any birthday stories or holiday stories—only stories for when they were superheroes. Damian was a touchy subject for the Wayne family. Of course, it would be. His death seemed to take a toll on everyone. It was weird since most of the heroes didn't even know Damian. Maybe it was the fact that Damian was drove off the edge, and nobody noticed. Perhaps it's because they couldn't see past the villain they painted him as and see a boy who wanted to be loved. 

Carrie wanted to be a good Robin. She tried to continue the legacy Damian and the other Robin's made. She knew she couldn't be the Robin Damian was, but maybe she could be a Robin that would make Batman proud. She could try and be the Robin Batman needed. They needed to let Damian rest, no matter how hard it is for the Bat-family.

Carrie quickly put on her jacket, running through the halls of the manor. She cut corners, quickly running out the doors of the mansion. Once she was outside, she ran to the graveyard. Once she reached the cemetery, she slowed down. She saw the tombstone and walked towards it. There laid the young Robin. The one she replaced.

Carrie sat down at the foot of the grave, just taking in the sorrowful sight. Sometimes, Carrie wished she knew the boy better, but every day she watched her family try and cope with his death, she realized maybe she got lucky. The red-head twirled a tiny blade of grass through her fingers, thinking of what to say to the grave. She could say nothing; sit here in silence. 

Maybe there was nothing she could say to the tombstone. Nothing Carrie could say would make a difference. It wouldn't suddenly bring the boy back to life. Nothing would help the Waynes get over this. Sitting at the tombstone, Carrie said the only thing she could think of saying.

"I'm sorry."