𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐒 ▬ 𝙟𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙤𝙙𝙙

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

❝ cold bones, yeah that's my love
he hides away like a ghost ❞

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄
𝙏𝙀𝘼𝙍 𝘿𝙍𝙊𝙋𝙎

𝐄𝐌𝐌𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍, mixing with the saline tears that streamed down her cheeks. She hadn't bothered to grasp an umbrella to shelter herself, allowing the rain to soak the ebony garments she donned in company with the rest of the mourners she stood among. Alfred had offered her one as soon as the drizzle began but she had humbly declined, earning a look of concern from both him and Bruce before they sighed and let her be. Emma wanted to feel the cool drops soak her skin, to embrace the comfort it seemed to bring her in this state. She wanted to feel something— anything besides the throbbing ache in her chest.

Emma brought her eyes to settle on the headstone that rested at the center before her. The tears that rimmed her eyes obscured her vision, which she had been grateful for. She didn't want to decipher what words the intricate letters that were carved into it formed. She didn't want to accept it, she didn't want it to be true.

Here lies Jason Todd.
August 16 2004 - April 27 2021

This wasn't supposed to happen, that shouldn't have been his name etched on that stone. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. Emma was supposed to save him that night in Bosnia. She had been on her way to reach the warehouse where he had been captured by Joker, riding on her motorcycle as fast as she possibly could with her heart fervently pounding in her chest and prayers she rapidly recited.

She had been so close, the entrance barely beyond her reach, and she had believed that she would make it. But before her hand had even reached the handle of the door, the warehouse erupted before her. It's profound, deafening sound had sent her flying back, debris, ash, and the remains of what once stood scattered all over the area of where the warehouse once stood.

After she had recovered herself, Emma had searched desperately for a sign of his body in the wreckage, splinters of wood digging itself into her flesh and calluses forming on her palms. She didn't remember how long it took before she had finally found his body but she could remember how she had felt once her eyes met his lifeless form.

She remembered the unnatural paleness of his complexion, the coolness of his skin against her hand, the stillness of his chest. She could still feel soreness in her throat, a reminder of when she had scraped it raw by the screams and cries that escaped from her lips once she knew that he was gone.

She failed to save him. She was responsible for his departure from this world and it made it all the more unbearable for her to accept. She couldn't accept it. Emma didn't want to believe that this was reality. This felt like some ghastly nightmare she wished she could wake up from.