A Weapon

Fill My Lungs

Okay, WARNING the majority of this is Damian deciding whether or not to kill himself If that's triggering please skip.

It was halfway into day, an unusual time for a bath but Damian was in the water none the less. And by in I mean under its surface. Eyes open and body limp. Like he was lying in bed.

He was debating with himself. To fill his lungs with air or water? Live another day or end it here? Damian wondered which to be more beneficial?

If he were to stay here and let himself suffocate, stop oxygen from being delivered to his heart, would it affect anyone? Even in the slightest?

Bruce could write it off as an accidental death. Falling asleep during a bath or some other misfortune. He'd throw a funeral if only for his reputation and paparazzi. Drake would make an appearance as a show for the cameras, give a few crocodile tears for good measure. Todd wouldn't have to come. He'd probably go about his life like Damian never existed. Grayson would probably show seeing as he was Damian's guardian for almost two years. Damian didn't know if his appearance would be for the act or not though his tears might be genuine.

But for the most part, his death wouldn't matter, not to his birth family or his surrogate. He was not one to be mourned. Not like Todd.

Damian wasn't cared for like his brothers. He wasn't loved by any. He was unwanted by his father, he hadn't chosen Damian. He didn't pick him out of a litter of abandoned puppies. Bruce had never wanted him, his mother only dumped him on his father in hope of temporary disruption. His mother only saw a weapon to throw away with it's slightest imperfection. He was unloved, unwanted, and unneeded, he was completely unnecessary.

His death would not be a tragedy or a celebration, only a minuscule moment soon forgotten. He could kill himself right now and nothing would change.

That said living wouldn't change anything either. If afterlife exists he'd simply be suggested to a preeminent amount of pain, for on his judgment day he'd surely be sent to hell. Although hell is temporary for Muslims it is only until their sins and evils are forgiven in which Damian's would never.

To be forgiven and allow entrance in paradise one must go through the punishment waiting, for their crimes committed in the living realm and Damian's are far too horrendous to ever receive redemption.

Though if afterlife is just a myth Damian would simply decompose in the ground without further pain. So essentially he was gambling with eternal pain and peace.

Damian closed his eyes farther considering his dilemma. Death yielded two results and possibility while life given one clear answer.

Now the question is was he willing to test death? He could gain tranquility but could be cast to more extensive punishment. He knew the pain of living but was unaware of the torment waiting to befall him. Could he challenge the unknown for a small promise of contentment?

Damian's train of thought was interrupted by a muffled call from Pennyworth. He thought of ignoring it and getting back to his self discussion but realized he lost his established deliberation in the second he was pulled off track.

He opened his eyes and pulled himself out of the water's welcoming arms and took air as his answer. Damian relinquished a sigh, disappointed he could not be selfish.

"Master Damian? Are you still there ?" The butler's voice chimed.

"Yes, Pennyworth ." Came Damian's automatic reply. "Is there anything?"

"I've come to inform you of Master Dick's arrival ."

"Thank you Pennyworth ." Damian guessed it had slipped his mind but hadn't expected it to stick with him anyway.

"He'd like to see you as soon as you're finished ."

"Thank you Pennyworth ." Damian repeated himself without care of Pennyworth's hopeful tone.

End

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