Survivor | T. Drake

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The soft melody of a piano drifted through the empty hall, filling up the silence in the huge mansion. A boy sat by the instrument, his fingers gliding over the keys with the skill of a practiced pianist. The notes floated out effortlessly, each sound overlapping in rhythm to form the song he was playing.

His back was to the door, so he was unaware that his mother had come to stand beside it, watching him play the piano. The music swelled and the woman took a step closer, taking care not to disturb him as he seemed quite engrossed in what he was doing.

He would often come to the living room and play the piano and it was always a beautiful tune that would lure anyone around to come closer to listen.

Her brown eyes were filled with appreciation and as her son finally struck the last note, her hand rested gently on his shoulder. Recognizing the soft touch, he turned with a smile to look up at his mother, expecting her to give him words of encouragement.

The smile on her face and the proud look in her eyes said it all, nevertheless, he wanted to hear her praise him, to tell him that he had made her proud just like he had promised he would.

Her lips parted to speak but before she could say anything, he woke up.

The piano and his mother faded from his vision, leaving only the blank walls of his bedroom and the white ceiling seemingly closing in on him.

It was past midnight and he wasn't in the living room where the piano was placed. Instead, he was in his own room, drenched in the uncomfortable darkness of the night.

He had had that dream again and it was to the point that he could no longer distinguish whether that dream was a past memory or a figment conjured by his subconscious yearning for something that had never been there.

Taking in a long deep breath, he stood up from his bed and went to open the window in hopes of lessening the suffocation gripping him. A fresh gust of air struck him, rooting him to the present but his thoughts were still stuck in that lingering memory.

He had lost count of how many times he had had the same dream. Night after night he would see glimpses of a life that he might have lived in the past or wished for dearly. 

His parents would always be with him in those dreams, acknowledging him and appreciating his presence in their lives. The only reason he still went to bed was the hope of seeing those smiling faces again, going back to those dreams that had become almost like cherished childhood memories.

But was it all real or just a trick of his mind to accept what he wanted? Sometimes it felt so real that he couldn't argue against it, and sometimes it felt like a haunting mirage, tightening its grip on him with every dream he envisioned.

Perhaps when he was very young, those glimpses he saw in his dream had been real, perhaps those dreams were manifestations of memories almost forgotten.

He wasn't sure of what it really was; dream or memory, mirage or reality.

There were a lot of things that Timothy Drake couldn't be sure of. The past few days, he had been through a lot and it all had happened so fast that he couldn't get the time to process it fully.

Such that even after a month, he had been unable to accept the calamity that had befallen their perfect little family.

His parents had gone for a trip to the Caribbean Islands, leaving him behind as he insisted on staying and attending Gotham Academy as finals were drawing near and he couldn't afford to miss his classes. Little did he know that day at the airport would be the last time he would see his parents alive and well before him.

A week later, he received terrible news that the Drakes had been attacked and Janet had died on the spot. Jack had managed to survive but barely as he had gone into a comatose state.

The next few days had been nothing short of hell for young Timothy Drake as he had no idea who could help him get his parents back to Gotham and he tried to approach every person he could.

Eventually, one of Jack's old friends and his lawyer went to the Caribbean Islands, bringing back Tim's parents although not in the state that he would have expected to see them. One of them was in a coffin and the other was in an almost lifeless state.

He barely remembered Janet Drake's funeral nor did he recall who took his father to the hospital or paid for the bills. All he knew was that his perfect little world had come crashing down on him with the loss of the only two people he considered family.

It had been a month since then.

Jack was still in a coma and Tim was struggling with the aftermath. Drake Corporate was descending into bankruptcy and things were getting worse with every passing day.

There seemed to be nothing that Tim could do to stop his life from spiraling downhill.

Besides, what could a thirteen-year-old do in the face of such trialing circumstances?

He had never felt so helpless in his entire life and something told him that was just the beginning. He would have to go through a lot more if he had to survive in that ruthless city all by himself.

A month had passed yet his father wasn't in the state to guide him and he had lost his mother who he loved and admired very much.

Everything in his life seemed darker than the night sky unfolding before him from his bedroom window. 

For the dark night sky, there was still hope for the onset of dawn. But in the dark future before him, he found no such hope for himself.

As he stood by the open window, taking in deep breaths of the night air, he felt the same sense of being trapped in his own life settle in.

Trapped in a cage where there was no difference between dream and reality, memory and imagination, yearning and desire. A dull loop of day and night followed with nothing significant happening to him whatsoever.

And each night would end with a dream that would somehow never extend to the point of him hearing anything from Jack and Janet Drake.

It hurt because he yearned to hear their voices again, to have a sense of being close to them but even in those dreams, he couldn't achieve it. He would always wake up before that. 

And in reality, it was impossible for him to even see them the way they used to be.

He had no idea how long it would take for him to break free. Nor did he know if he would ever be able to break free at all before the invisible confinement ended up taking his life as well.

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