• 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 • the dark knight •

The Worries

a/n - so this chapter is going to mess with the timeline a little, where i'm gonna make jason's death period be two years rather than four. mind you, that is only for this story and because i miss and love my baby jason too much to let yall go through the pain of being without him. also, two things to remember : one, there will be more on this timeline change in the upcoming chapters, and two, happy reading and enjoy!

□Mara□

I scared him shitless. I really did. Oh my lord, the look on Damian's face when I told him about his staring problem -- this poor boy nearly jumped out of his seat!

Okay, not a poor boy because I don't feel bad for scaring him one bit. It was hilarious.

And now he's standing across the medbay by the counter of mixed medical supplies. I've trued not to laugh to hard because it still hurts to -- with my ribs still healing and the weird Vertigo still in me after all.

But it's okay, I'm not complaining. No, not one bit. It's acutally kind of cool to be sick like this.

I mean, technically I could go get some drugs right now and literally smoke it or whatever and say it was the Vertigo still in me -

Okay, that one's a little far off the deep end.

And if THAT'S what I've reserted to for humor, oh boy am I gonna be a hot mess. More than I already am too!

"I'm sorry for staring, sister."

Damian's voice is strangely calm, which puts me on edge. His voice is usually gruff, and his tone reminds me of a razor blade.

But now it's soft like those marshmallows that are the big squares. I meam, their really good marshmallows but not a good tone from Damian -- the ex assassin (ish), the grandson of the "great Ra's al Ghul", and son of Bruce Wayne himself.

Literally all three of those things go into one category and Damian's voice clashes with all of it. It doesn't make sense, but then again nothing makes sense anymore.

Between this killer of mine - of which I still don't believe has a valid reason to kill me - and my life before I came to the Wayne household, nothing is clear. It's all a blur, and I don't know why.

And that's what scares me. I scare myself with how I have no idea why I can't remember some things while with my father's side of the family, while my mother's side of the family I remember things so damned clearly.

Like I get that more prominent things happened with her, and she raised me from day one, but I've had the oddest experiences with Dad.

I met my new family. I bonded with my siblings. I lost my brother. I found out my family is a group of vigilantes that save the city at night. I almost got blown up. I've got a killer after me.

And I can barely remember most of that. While my mother throwing a fucking beer bottle at me I can remember so clearly.

And how she said that I would live with her until I went to college and end up caring for her every need after that, yet two years later she fucking sells me for drug money.

Pathetic.

Absolutely bloody pathetic. Lying bitch.

Stop.

God, I hate my mind sometimes.

"I am truly sorry, sister," my brothers voice makes me look at him.