Fawkes

Parental Guidance

Hershey POV~~~

I rubbed my skull with my hand and groaned. A dull, throbbing sensation accompanied the egg like bump that I could feel through my hair. It was definitely a concussion, but there was nothing I could do about it.

I scanned over myself, assessing my injuries. My face was bruised and bloody and my neck felt squished and hard to breath through. My stomach and chest were covered in the usual scratches, there were bruises from the crowbar, along with the words now imprinted on my right arm. I stared at them and ran my fingers over my bloody skin. These markings would be here forever, as they were much much deeper than the cuts he usually gave me. I had lost a lot of blood, and I stood up off of the floor to find the dark cell I slept in. I had stolen some first aid equipment a while back because I could no longer find any around the base to treat my wounds. I pulled out one of the one-use ice packs and shook it so I could use it on my head. I found the half empty bottle of iodine and poured it on a cotton ball before rubbing it across my stomach and chest. I did the same to my arms, and gritted my teeth so I wouldn't cry out in pain. I bandaged up my forearm, first having to perform sloppy, one handed stitches on some of the letters that would definitely make the scarring worse. I washed my face and placed the ice to my head before lying down on my filthy, hard-as-rock bed.

Sleeping wasn't something I normally did. At the most I'd get about eight hours a week, because it just wasn't something I liked. Nighttime was the time I usually went out with the others to rob or steal or fight. We went any other time of day though, it was just usually a nighttime thing. In between that and training, I'd get hardly any hours in to sleep. It was okay though, I'd gotten used to being sleep deprived all the time ages ago.

So I lay there during the late hours of the night. There was bound to be someone up, but as it sounded they were just drinking and watching television in the other room. I slowly stood up and decided to try again to search for my parents. I'd had enough; I was nearly twelve and I wasn't about to waste any more of my childhood with these horrible people. I would find my parents.

There was still that small voice in my head that asked me the question that always bugged me. What if they didn't want me? Joker always told me that they abandoned me. That they didn't want me the minute they laid eyes upon me. They left me in the rainy streets and walked away. They decided I was worthless and a disappointment to them before I could even open my eyes and look at the cruel world around me.

What if they didn't want me? I knew deep inside that they probably wouldn't take me. Hell, they probably wouldn't even believe me. But I also knew that anything was better than staying here and suffering through this. And if they didn't accept me, then I'd run. I'd flee the city and start a new life, away from everything. It was a coward move, but I've faced my problems my whole life, it was time to get away and start anew. I needed to find a life outside of here. I could leave the country maybe, get away from Gotham and train myself to be a hero.

I scoffed at the idea of being a hero. Part of me did want to do good and clear my conscience, but the larger part knew that wasn't possible. I was raised among the most lethal villains in the state. In America. I was trained to be a killer and a stealer and a liar. I was trained to show no mercy or emotion. I could never be a hero. I could never make it out there with the do-gooders, my record was too crime ridden. My heart was too black.

Wow, I got a bit dramatic there didn't I? Oh well, I was raised with super villains.

I opened the door to my dark room and snuck out, deciding to use Harley's computer since she was in Joker's room doing god knows what.

I inched my way down the hall, silently keeping to the dark shadows and making sure not to loiter around any open doors. I heard moaning from a room a ways away down the hall, and swallowed the bile in my throat as I recognized Harley Quinn's voice. I quickly moved down farther away from that room and slipped into Harley's, beginning to scan the area for her laptop. I spotted it across from me, on a chair near the foggy windows. I leaned over and grabbed it, opening it and quickly typing in what had better be the password.