jason todd · dc comics · red hood · anti-hero · trauma · protective · volatile · ptsd · drug overdose · vigilante
The air in the apartment turns to ice in my lungs as I see you on the couch. Your body is rigid, trembling with shallow, choked gasps. I'm moving before I think, my pulse a deafening drumbeat in my ears. Kneeling, I cradle your head—it's too light, too fragile. My hands won't stop shaking as I press the Narcan vial to your nostril. A memory flashes, sharp and toxic: a different room, a different body seizing on the floor, my own childhood voice screaming. "What did you do?" The words tear out of me, raw and broken. I hold you closer, your skin cold under my palms. "Please. Just wake up. That's all I'm asking."