mad as daisies ᵗⁱᵗᵃⁿˢ

04 | the art of trauma (tw)

Eleanor didn't like being in silence, but staying in a motel meant she had to be mindful of others. She didn't play music, instead, she sat in her clothes on the floor of her shower, her arms wrapped around her legs as the water tried to be her distraction.

She shivered as the coldness hit her skin. Her pink hair was dripping and she was wasting water. But Eleanor refused to move.

Eleanor wasn't okay. She was hurt, a lot. In her eighteen years of life, she had witnessed and experienced a lot. Murder, rape and abuse had been her life for a little too long — then again, any second of any of them was still too much.

Eleanor Shelby wanted to scream as she curled her body closer to itself. Sometimes all she could feel were her uncle's needy hands. She could feel the echoes of his lust that left bruises upon her delicate skin.

Eleanor was an abused teenager who put herself in harm's way to play the dangerous game of hero for her kid cousins (Bella and Issac) and aunty (Nora) just to hope she didn't have to see them bloody and bruised. Part of her reason was selfish, so she didn't have to witness pain, but also so she knew the children she lived with knew they were at least safe, even if it was for five minutes.

She brought her hands to her ears, pressing them tight to her ears as she sobbed, her nails dug into her skin. Begs for it all to stop fell from her mouth.

She pressed her back to the tiled wall, her forehead resting against her knees. Her hands moved from her ears and wrapped around her legs.

The silence was never good for Eleanor, it made the memories job at tormenting her so much easier. It made her hate living more than she already did.

Silence wasn't silent. Silence was a deadly weapon, only slightly safer than desire.

The cold water wasn't a shield like she wanted it to be. It didn't protect her and it didn't wash away the pain. The water was useless and crying Eleanor was hating it.

Her velvet dress was likely ruined from the water. Then again, that wasn't her worry right now, nor was she sure if velvet dresses were prone to water damage. She hoped her dress wasn't going to be ruined, it was her favourite.

Then again, not only did it have water damage but now it was painted with trauma.

Trauma wasn't pretty. It was dreadful and ruined her peace of mind.

Once upon a time, Eleanor was happy. She lived with her mother (Marcy Shelby), her father (Raymond Shelby) and her brother (Nathan Shelby) in a pretty and expensive four-story house in Gotham. She grew up loved and happy.

She grew up with Nathan (Shadow) and Raymond (Puppeteer) teaching her how to fight, whilst Marcy worried about the dangers and tried to remind them how Eleanor might just start picking fights with anyone and everyone that annoys her.

Eleanor grew up with an 'uncle' Bruce Wayne who agreed with her father about the girl knowing how to hold her own.

Eleanor had grown up teasing her older (by ten years) brother and his best friend Dick Grayson. She was the only one who knew that the two had a different friendship, whilst not dating they were not a hands-free friendships. Eleanor wasn't aware that it wasn't just kissing until she grew up and took a step back to think.

But a few months before her fourteenth birthday Eleanor woke up and found Marcy, Raymond and Nathan shot and mutilated to death. Happiness was wiped away as she called the police.

She remembered having to break the news to Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne, only hours before she was forced to move in with her mother's brother.

Kyle Smith was a horrible man. He abused his wife (Nora) and his children (Bella and Issac) and soon enough he hurt Eleanor Shelby. Mentally, physically and sexually.