Leave Me Alone (BatJokes fanfic) {PART 2}

Chapter 4:

🚫WARNING: Self Harm, and mentions of Self Harm🚫

ti๓ēŞkip

(ᴘᴏᴠ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ)

𝟛ℝ𝔻 ℙ𝔼ℝ𝕊𝕆ℕ ℙ𝕆𝕍:

Bruce Wayne sat in a small room, somewhere in his basement in Wayne Manor. He stared at a gray, dirty wall and let his mind wander, of course though, his mind felt fuzzy and empty. He couldn't feel anything. Not even the pain he should be feeling in his wrists and shoulders. He didn't feel any of it. He slowly moved his gaze around the room, not caring that he wasn't thinking, feeling, or doing anything, after all, he had been doing this for about 3 weeks now. Rarely eating and drinking, and obviously hadn't been taking care of his appearance. He stank and was growing a beard.

A week into his lapse he had hundreds of missed calls and texts, so Bruce had just decided to put his phone in the microwave and leave it there. After that, he made himself a small blanket nest in the kitchen where he usually stayed, which was right next to a vent. The other half of his time was spent in Alfred's room, down the hall on the main floor.

But today was special. He had found himself in a blank room. There was a light blue painted desk, probably made for a child, in the corner of the room, and several cardboard boxes.

Bruce slowly turned around, glaring at the boxes. The fog in his mind remained as he knelt over the boxes and started to take the lids off all of them. He merely scanned over the top of whatever was in the box, then felt himself start to lose consciousness again.

You need to sleep. A dark voice yelled out in his blank head.

Bruce merely ignored it and let himself fall to the floor, cracking his jaw on the cement flooring. He felt a jolt of something run through his jaw and head. Bruce closed his eyes and let himself go unconscious.

ti๓ēŞkip

Bruce Wayne suddenly felt his consciousness return, but instead of being on a hard cement floor, he found himself somewhere more comfortable. Either a bed or couch. Bruce couldn't tell because his eyelids felt like magnets; impossible to take apart. He let out a small groan when a jolt of pain went through his jaw. Ugh... what? He thought, and attempted to move his hands to feel his mouth, but his arms refused to move. What's going on? Why can't I move? He thought.

After a minute or so, he let himself sink into whatever he was laying on. I just want to stay here forever... he let out a small sigh and relaxed his muscles, but they all quickly tensed up when he heard someone's voice in the distance.

"Hmm, he seems to still be asleep..." a familiar voice said, seemingly right over him, as if whoever it was was standing right in front of him.

Another familiar voice responds. "He's having a dream... should we wake him up? It probably won't be a good one since Alfred died."

Suddenly a jolt of something in Bruce's heart ripped through him. It was as if the weapon was already pierced through the heart, but was trying to be pulled out of the wrong way. A muscle in his face twitched, alerting whoever was in front of him.

"Do you think he's awake?"

"No... his heart beat is still pretty slow, as if he's sleeping. Also, he'd have opened his eyes if he was. Bruce is... very... how do you say it?"