[TOO FAR GONE] - DAMIAN WAYNE - DC COMICS

lone wolf.

I woke up dizzy and unaware of the reality. I felt almost as if I was in a dream, my body light and somewhat insignificant. I was plagued with these thoughts, these crazy assumptions and so many things needed to be said to clear the air. But I didn't want to be the one to initiate. Why should that be my job when I truthfully didn't care? I rolled out of the bed, practically feeling lifeless as I didn't want to go on. Would it be acceptable for me to give up? Like for good...? I shook my head trying not to tempt myself. I knew that couldn't be an option.

I open the door to my room, still no breakfast resting on the table. This time another thing was missing though, Jason. I rolled my eyes. This needs to end. I go knocking on his door, ready to fight if I have too. So I don't always have the best approach. Sue me. There's no answer so I try knocking a bit harder. Screw this... I swear if I open this damn thing and he's passed out cause he went overboard... I brought a hand to my forehead. Why was this my responsibility? Then I remembered. There were a few reasons as to why I was doing this, but one prominent explanation that was above all.

I finally decided to just barge in, pushing the door so hard it could've come off the hinges. I was somewhat surprised to see a vacant room, but truthfully even more shocked that it wasn't a mess. Part of me expected to be drowning in an ocean of bottles when I entered... I thought it would be a landfill of things that spelled out alcoholic-heroin-addict, because let's be real, thats exactly what he was. But his room was pristine. Somehow more put together than my own... His bed? Made. His clothes? Neatly folded in the drawers where they belonged. His guns? Organized and in order based on which he liked best. This was strange. He was strange. Nothing about him made sense anymore. I walked over to his nightstand, opening up the drawer, feeling as though this would be it. I pictured a needle resting inside, perhaps a few bottles. But the drawer was fucking empty! All he did was drink and get high in front of me... Where the hell was he keeping everything? One would expect it to be much worse, in private right? But it didn't seem like it was... So then why would he display this shit in front of me when he knows it pisses me off? I deeply exhaled walking out of his room, as there were suddenly more questions. I sat on the couch in the living room, staring at the empty bottles that littered the countertop. It didn't make any sense. Any fucking sense at all.

He returned home a bit later, struggling to make it through the door. Guess what? Plot twist, the fucker was drunk. I rolled my eyes, giving him a dirty look.

"I don't understand you." I bluntly spit out, looking towards the floor. His eyebrows went up in response, as if me talking to him was weird.

"Want to tell me why you do this to yourself?" I question, looking up at him. I folded my hands, and stood up, feeling like I was his therapist. God I hated talking to him. Especially in this state. For a moment I forgot why I was trying so hard. Then my mind took me back to the reason I decided to stay here in the first place. I was beginning to lose patience, and the fact that he took another sip really set me over the edge.

"You wanna fucking answer?" I yelled, standing up, losing my calm demeanor. Suddenly the look on his face changed, and I could tell by his pursed lips that he was aggravated with my tone.

"Actually I don't... Thanks for your concerns." He said, a bit slurred though more than understandable.

"But I think you might be too late kid." He knew how much I hated it when he called me that. Now he was just asking for it.

"Jason I swear to God!" I started, but he was quick to process and decided to cut me off.

"You swear to God?" He questioned, mocking me a bit.

"You're a fucking atheist... Like your sperm donor of a father." He spit out, lifting the bottle to his mouth, as he arrogantly took a sip.

"Don't you dare say that!" I screamed back. I didn't care about my father. Didn't care that I was his quote unquote son but I was not going to let him verbally abuse me like that.