Damian Wayne One Shots

Too Far Gone

Bruce POV

"I NEVER WANNA SEE YOU AGAIN! I NEVER WANTED YOU, YOU WERE A MISTAKE, A MISTAKE I WOULD NEVER REPEAT." This words went through my head, the last words I ever told Damian before he disappeared. 

We seemed to butt heads so many times during that week, we had over 5 arguments and it was only Tuesday. We fought over stupid things, things that now don't matter. I felt a tear run down my cheek, we were all looking for him but he seemed to have vanished from this world. Wiped off the face of this world. 

1 month and 2 weeks ago

We were locked in a heated argument, our voices rising as we exchanged accusations. I confronted him about his mean behavior and how he bullied kids at school. It seemed like every week, another classmate would come to me, visibly upset, recounting stories of how he tormented them with harsh words and taunts. Yet, in response, he insisted he hadn't been to school in over three weeks. The audacity of his claim infuriated me. I thought he was lying and I hadn't felt the need to check the security cameras for proof. I just accepted the words of those "stupid kids" who had come to me, seeking solace from their pain.

As he tried to defend himself, his voice filled with a mix of anger and desperation, I felt something snap inside me. The weight of his words and the realization of what he had done pushed me past my breaking point. In a moment of sheer impulse, I slapped him across the face. He froze, his expression falling into a blank stare, as if time had stopped for him. There was a heavy silence that filled the air, the tension almost palpable between us.

Unable to contain my anger any longer, I unleashed a torrent of words. I yelled accusations that cut deeper than I intended, spewing things I now regret. "You think you can just get away with it? You're nothing but a coward! You enjoy seeing others hurt!" I didn't mean any of it; my anger had taken control, and I let it cloud my judgment. I could see the shock in his eyes, the disbelief that someone would dare speak to him that way.

Finally, when I had emptied my reserves of fury and words, I took a breath and looked at Damian. That's when I noticed the tear sliding down his cheek, tracing a path over the reddened mark where my hand had made contact. In that moment, all my anger faded, replaced by a wave of guilt that washed over me. I realized the hurt I had caused was more profound than I had ever intended. All he said was

"I see Father"  

Present

I still vividly remember the image of his stoic, cold face as he turned away from us. His voice was detached, lacking any warmth or emotion. He walked straight to his bedroom, and after that, no one saw him for several days. At first, we didn't think much of it; we assumed he just needed some time alone. However, as days passed, his absence became more concerning. His behavior had already frustrated us, and eventually, we reached our breaking point. We decided it was time to confront him and bring him out of his self-imposed isolation.

When we finally gathered the courage to knock on his door and enter his room, what we found shocked us. The bedroom was in complete disarray; it looked as if a storm had swept through. His paintings, once vibrant and full of life, were ripped to shreds and scattered across the floor. Pens and paint splatters decorated the surfaces like a chaotic art project gone wrong. Family pictures that used to hang proudly on the walls were thrown haphazardly on the ground, their glass frames shattered. We stood there in stunned silence, processing the chaos around us.