Batfamily Oneshot!

My mind is a poison, that will kill me.

Request: Yes, and so sorry that it's been practically a decade, so here it is!

Summary: Sad reader, thinking of possible running away. And loneliness...

Warning: Angst, Angst, and more angst and would you look at that Angst! And mentions of suicide, and doing so. I'm not comfortable with it too, don't worry.
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It stung the endless halls. So cold, yet the paint was warm-toned, it seemed more of a maze of endless isolation, with fragments of life that were not yours, just someone else.

It felt bittersweet, you had a roof over your head, food and clean water, perfect hygiene and yet given the state you were. It felt like you were suffocated in this dizzying smell of bitter air and sweetness of the water you drank. And yet you wonder, wander around the twisting halls, they don't move but you could feel it's groaning at night, it's creeks taunting you to get out of your bed to wonder.

You had your light on, something of an old comfort, a book long since disregarded for the long staring at the wall of your room, your cage it felt like. The closet was something of a way to hide and use its fabrics to pretend any other morning that everything was fine. This room was bare, you felt no need to show your life in this room when it felt as bare as the hollow heartbeat in your chest.

You tighten your grip on the blankets of your bed, a bunch of the soft fabric in your palms felt like needles, stinging your skin with a knowing coldness of the night. Vision blurred, you question when has it been clear, when was anything clean-cut. But you get out of the bed, it wasn't yours, it will never be yours.

The floor felt grounding, cold with a sharpness that is long since familiar. You take one step away from the bed, then another, it became easier to do so. You walked away from the angel of sleep and greeted the warm-toned walls with a frown. A demon seemed to crawl into vision, you blinked out the tears, your shadow was the demon.

You closed the door quietly, it didn't make a noise, not a creak, you felt the solace of the darkness wrap your head in cold unforgiving comfort. Navigating the halls, it was getting easier each night, you started to shuffle to the library. The only place that seemed safe, it didn't have any pictures of a picture-perfect family, where the smiles were forced and the nerving stares that seemed to follow you around.

Old wood, heavy but not enough to make a noise, you paced the endless shelves of books. Never glancing at titles or names, you just paced, your gaze fixed on the floor and ears seemed muffled, it felt like a perfect daze. You went back to the plush armchair, it was big enough for you to curl in and get some rare sleep.

But tonight, you felt the endless blank space of the house. Its non-existent groans muttered ideas sickening, twisting ideas, ideas you felt would be best. You kept your eyes closed, you may not get sleep but it would make Alfred not to be scared that you didn't sleep, you let hoots of wise old owls and crickets oldest songs.

But none made it easier to sleep, even with a mind so tired and restless, ideas came along and sat with you in the dark. They weren't bright ideas, but ideas that you knew were not to be spoken about. Taking your sad life, it was tempting as the forbidden fruit from Eden.

You knew that by the twittering birds with melodies of old, and more lively audience you had at the door. Alfred had been searching for you, you found something warm and loosen the tightness of your chest slightly. But it fled as quick as it came.

Warm and thin fingers shook your shoulder lightly, you peeked open your eyes. You found Alfred's warm smile and concerned eyes, his hands lingered more as if trying to keep the darkest thoughts at bay. You smile up at him. “Morning, Alfred, ” it was so soft, so childish sounding. But both knew that you lost the warmth a long time ago.