The Boy in Black

Half Way to Happy

Scene 1

There was a void, something missing, something he knew that simply made little sense.

How could this be?

He looked out at nothing, struggling to find an answer. Yet it was mere inches from his fingertips, but just far enough that he couldn't reach it.

He sorted through the faces and places. The pieces were there, but scattered across the white tile floor, like blood spilt from the deepest of wounds. It made him sick, made him wretch at the sight. The very thought of his mother's unnatural union, leaving him to question it further. Not just the reasons why, but the reasons to die?

Why? Why so soon, why so obvious, why so callous? And for what? Security? Companionship, Love? No.

"She never loved him," he heard a woman say as her disjointed voice merged with his thoughts.

She didn't... how could she?

He looked up from the crimson stained floor; the woman standing before him in a black wedding dress, sewn from satin and lace, her back to him. He looked on, not knowing what to think of the peculiar sight. She spun, her face hidden beneath a deathly black veil.

"She killed him... she killed your father."

The words shook Damian into the waking world as if his mind hit a wall. He laid there a moment, staring into the darkness above him. His wary hand ran over his eyes and brow, his thoughts tired, but not quite settled. He shifted, trying to get comfortable, Raven's pale body still wrapped around his, her head nestled to the left side of his chest. His heart beat singing to her in her sleep. The sight brought him peace, but not quite enough to absolve him of the many questions that plagued him.

It had been a year since his father's death and there was still so much he did not know or understand. Like how it even happened?

"What do you mean his heart gave out?" Damian asked through grit teeth as his mother explained his father's untimely passing.

"Damian," she said in an almost reprimanding tone, "your father was sick."

"No, he wasn't."

"Yes, he was," she insisted and continued. "He hid it... from everyone. He hid a lot of things."

Talia went on, explaining how stress had gotten the better of his father's health. And in the end, his heart couldn't take the strain the Dark Knight had to shoulder.

"Why didn't he say anything?"

"Because he didn't want to burden you," Talia sighed almost insincerely. "I know he chose not to tell you, or anyone, because you'd worry and he didn't want it affecting your school work."

"And now he's dead, so none of it matters."

"I'm sorry, my son," she cooed and for once actually embraced him, "but sometimes heroes die."

Still, there was something about it that just didn't sit right with him. Yes, his father was a man of many secrets and few words, but he was not ignorant of the implications of his health. If his father genuinely knew his time was short or suspected it, he would have said something. Maybe not outright, but nevertheless, something.

"She killed your father..."

The words rang loud in his head, and nothing could quell their ominous sound. After an hour, he gave up any hope of sleep and wiggled out from under his still sleeping lover.