Broken Hood

Chapter 1- Evil People

Jason pov-
There was 3 words to describe the way I felt right now.

Broken beyond repair.

I was broken, no, shattered, maybe worse if that existed, and I knew it.

But was it my fault?

I don't know.

All I did was exist, and try to be the best person, a person I wasn't. I've spent my entire life in physical, emotional, mental, verbal, and sadly sexual abuse and agony, and the only thing I did to deserve all of it was not be good enough.

I wasn't good enough for my adoptive brothers, my adoptive father, my biological mom and dad, my stepmom, and I was pretty sure that I had failed my amazing girlfriend as a boyfriend.

I'd failed everyone I knew, and no matter how hard I tried to be the perfect kid they've always wanted, I still wasn't good enough.

Just once in my life, I wanted to be praised for something. I wanted to feel like I belonged somewhere. I wanted to have people that cared about me, people that wouldn't care if I wasn't perfect, people that loved me for who I was, flaws and everything that made me me.

I knew my beloved did, and the Kent family did, but I couldn't go to the Kent's in metropolis because I didn't want Bruce to hurt them to get me back. Could Bruce hurt MJ? No. If he killed me and she found out, she would kill him and bring me back with the Lazarus Pit again, and do the same thing to him, but kill him in every way she knew how, then make his remains vanish.

Oh, if she were here right now, Bruce Wayne would be begging for the death that she wouldn't give him.

Why?

Because the man was screaming at me for killing a goon that was about to break Damian's back, and the kid was unable to get out of his grasp and was crying out in pain.

So I had shot him between the eyes, and Bruce was having a fit.

I'm sorry, but I wasn't going to let the man hurt my little brother. Breaking the no kill rule was the only way to save him, so I did it.

Bruce should be happy that the kid is still alive, but I guess not.

I bet he would just scold Golden Boy if he killed the goon, or just ban Replacement from coffee for a week, not yell at them or hit them, or shove them into things that break with the force and pierce their back, or make them afraid of them, or hurt them at all.

But I was different.

Bruce Wayne wouldn't abuse his sons.

But he took all of his anger out on me, always focused on my flaws, everything I did wrong, my imperfections, all my mistakes and he compared me to Dick, Tim, and Damian. They were his perfect kids, kids that were his pride and joy, kids that he chose...

...and then there was me: the black sheep of the family, the street rat, the worthless and pathetic mistake of the Wayne family name. I was the one that was named Bruce's greatest failure, and I was the one he hated, even more than Joker. I was the one that couldn't do anything right, always fucked everything up, wasn't perfect enough, and wasn't enough for anyone in Gotham.

But did Golden Boy, Replacement, and Demon Spawn know what Bruce was doing to me?

No.

Bruce said that if I ever told them, or anyone, then he would ship me back to the Joker and make sure that I never escaped Arkham Asylum, and that no one would ever find me.

He knew everything that the clown did to me for those 3 years with him, and he didn't care.

Mari knew everything that the clown and people in Arkham did to me, and she was the one that had found me and rescued me, without Slade knowing.

Marinette Amira Rose was the best person in my life, and without her, I would be nothing. I owed her everything for everything she's done for me, and I loved my Angel with my entire heart, and beyond that. I hoped that she knew it.

I was snapped back to reality when Bruce threw me to the floor in his office, then stormed off, slamming the door shut behind him, and the entire room shook.

I didn't move from my position on the glass shard covered floor for a good 10 minutes, staying silent just to make sure that Bruce was actually gone. Once I was sure, I slowly forced myself to get up off the floor and stumbled towards the door, loosing my balance and falling against it when I got there. I froze when it made a loud thump, but I didn't hear anyone coming, so I steadied myself and opened the door, then began to slowly make my way to my room.

My room was the cleanest out of all of the Wayne brothers, something that Bruce still found a way to punish me for. If I had one tiny thing out of place, then he would beat my ass. But never when the others were around. I was pretty sure that even Alfred, who knew all, didn't know about this. I wondered what the man would do to Bruce if he found out.

Alfred was scary when he was mad.

But as I reached my door, I felt nauseated, and it felt really hard to breathe.

I leaned heavily on the door, holding my bleeding torso while trying to be mindful of the broken ribs I had, and I had tears streaming down my face in pain, and I softly whimpered in pain. I heard a door open, and, thinking it was Bruce, I opened my door and literally fell inside, then used my foot to quickly shut it before he saw that it was open. I landed on my back, and I couldn't stop the cry of pain that escaped my lips. I looked around for my phone, and I spotted it on my floor, shattered and broken.

A wail of despair quietly filled my room, and I was hopeless. The only way of contacting my assassin girlfriend to get her to help me was destroyed, and I was screwed. Groaning and coughing in pain, I got up again and locked my bedroom door, then went to my bathroom, blood practically gushing out of me in several places and going onto my floor and rug, and I locked the door behind me.

My drawers that had once been filled with med stuff was now empty, and anything that I would normally use to help me was gone. Bruce must have taken it out of here, I thought, getting dizzy. I was getting lightheaded and nauseated, and when I started to fall, my arms wouldn't move to catch myself as I fell into my shower, breaking the glass doors and knocking the curtain rod down.

My head slammed into the wall, and everything went black.

I only prayed to every god out there that my little Rose would find me. She had to. She knew something was wrong if I didn't answer her after 15 minutes.

My Angel would come for me, just like she always had, and always does.

I knew she would.