Damian One Shots

Psychiatrist

Warning talk of self harm!!!

There was a thick suspense in the room. It was uncomfortable and she kept looking at me. Like she was expecting me to talk. Well tuff. I've been through all kinds of tortures. None that broke me. This will not. I crossed my arms and crossed my legs, sinking further into the soft chair I was in. The woman hadn't shifted since she asked me the question ten minutes ago. She was relaxed in the chair. Looking at me with kind eyes. Her blond hair falling down over her leather jacket. Finally the black canary spoke again.

"Damian, I can't help you if you don't talk to me." I scoffed. It had been like this the last four sessions. I wondered when she was gonna give up. Or more like when father was gonna give up. I didn't need help. Nor a psychiatrist. "Well if you aren't going to answer my questions. Do you mind if I say a few statements? I just want you to think about them." I rolled my eyes.

"First statement: You feel lonely." God this was stupid. Of course I feel lonely. Everyone does. I answered in my head.

"You don't feel safe." I am Robin, of course I'm not safe.

You have a hard time dealing with others and your own feelings." I shifted in my chair. Feelings are a liability.

"You get frustrated when people try to help you." I don't need help. I'm fine. I'm not weak.

"You think people view you as weak and that's why they want to help you. For they see a child." You can say that again.

"Well Damian, that's not why I want to help you. I don't think you are weak. I think you have been forced to be strong for too long." I looked up at her at this. Her face was filled with sadness, pity but something else that I couldn't place.

"Damian I don't see a child before me. I see someone who is the age of a child but has been robbed of the chance to be one. I want to help you because I know what it can be like to be forced to grow up too fast. And I also want to help because I see the potential you have in getting better. To gain understanding and control of yourself. I want to help you so you no longer feel the need to cut." I looked down at my shirt-covered wrists. I couldn't see them but I knew the scars were there. Including the once I made previously that week when father had caught me.

"Damian, please let me help you." I looked up at the woman again. And there it was again that look. Was it, caring? I sighed.

"I don't need help." She smiled. Relieved that she had broken me. I cursed internally.

"I think you do. Do you mind if we continue with the statements but you tell me what you think about it? And I will ask you some questions but you don't have to answer if they make you uncomfortable." I nodded.

"Your past haunts you."

"Heh." I couldn't help but laugh.

"Tell me what you were thinking about." I couldn't bring myself to look at her.

"My past haunts me? Try traumatize me. Everything I've been through, the things done to me, the things I've done. To say they haunt me is an understatement. And the weird thing is. The things that traumatized me the most are the things I was so proud of back then."

"How do you mean, what could something like that be?" I hesitated.

"Like people I've killed. Trials that my mother and grandfather put me through, thier many tests. I used to be so proud when I succeeded. But now..."

"Could I ask, what kind of tests were these?"

"You name it. They were tests for my training in becoming an assassin. Fiscal, loyalty, mental..."

"Damian, I want to ask. How long have you been cutting yourself?" I swallowed. I felt like a stone was stuck in my throat.

"I... I don't know." Dina didn't seem to believe me and pushed.

"Damian..."

"No honestly I don't know because I don't remember when I cut for the first time. I've been doing it for as long as I can remember. I used it as a punishment for myself but also to deal with my emotions when I failed. I did it in the league. But it became more frequent when I arrived in Gotham. When my whole world changed. And I learnt that everything I ever knew was a lie."

"What was a lie?"

"Like I said, everything. My mothers affection for me, the way I viewed the world. How I viewed myself. In the league. I never felt like a child. But when I came to Gotham. I think I for the first time felt like a child. And the longer I stayed the more true it became. I realized I was spoiled and so out of touch with reality. So I cut. To punish myself for being so gullible to have fallen for my mother and grandfather's lies."

"Damian, they weren't just lies. You were manipulated from birth. No one blames you for having the views you did. And not knowing how to act."

"Except they did. Grayson, Drake, father. They all looked at me like I should know better and they got so disappointed when I acted wrongly."

"Are you sure that it was disappointment in you. And not in themselves for failing to teach you." I paused.

"I have never thought about it like that."

"They wanted you to be better Damian but weren't disappointed when you didn't live up to their expectations. They were sad that they failed to help you. I know for a fact your father blames himself for not knowing about your existence earlier." I didn't answer. I didn't know what to say.

"And when Bruce called me to ask for my help... Damian, he was terrified for you. Not disappointed, not mad, at least not at you. He was mad at himself for not noticing sooner, and that he couldn't help you himself." I closed my eyes, desperately fighting back the tears that threatened to escape. I had scared father.

"Damian?" She paused waiting for me to answer but I didn't trust my voice. Not that I would know what to say. "I wanted you to know that the reason I'm here is not because your father or I think you are weak, or doing something wrong. We want to help you deal with your pain and emotions in a healthy way. Your father is worried about you. And terrified of losing you." My face contracted in a grimace as I tried to hold back the tears but I failed. The tears escape my control and rolled down my face. My entire body was cramping. I can't, I can't cry. I'll get punished. Before I could finish my thought I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder and I opened my eyes to meet Dinas gentel face, expressing the same emotion I have had a hard time placing. But I knew now, It was genuine caring. She didn't even know me and she cared for me more than my own mother ever did.

"I..." I tried to speak but a sob threatened to escape my mouth. I tried again as Dina patiently waited for me to gain my composure. "I used to be punished for showing emotions. I haven't cried in front of anyone in years, for it gained me a week in isolation." Dinas face turned hurt. I had to bite my lip to not let the sobs escape me. Dina took my hand and squeezes it gently.

"Damian. I will not punish you for crying or showing your emotions. And your mother and grandfather can't get to you here. You are safe." So many have said that to me. That I am safe. And that mother and grandfather couldn't get to me. I have always known it was a lie because my mother can find me anywhere and I am never safe from them. But I think I might have misunderstood what they have tried to say. It's not that I'm physically safe from my past cause it can always catch up to me. I am mentally safe. And my mothers views don't have to rule me anymore. I looked into Dinas kind eyes, I waned to believe her.

"Promise." Dina gave a kind smile.

"I promise Damian. You are safe." Her voice was so calm and reassuring. My tears started to stream faster down my face and I let my body go. I couldn't hold back any longer. Like she said. I had been strong for too long. So just for a moment. I allowed myself to be weak. I release a sob and it is echoed by another until I was balling my eyes out. Dina held both my hands and it was the only thing I could feel. The light pressure around my hands. It felt safe. My sobs echoed in the room and my body cramped from crying. Every time I thougth I was done crying another memory from my childhood came out and brought the tears back to my eyes. The scars on my wrists stung in a way they never had before. And for the first time I wished that they weren't there. That I had never cut in the first place. For all the emotions I had sealed away in them now came bleeding out.