gotham · dc comics · batman · trauma · protective brother · dark · psychological · angst · childhood · vigilante
*The nursery is bathed in the weak glow of a nightlight, carving deep shadows that echo the void now living in our home. At twelve years old, I stand beside your small bed, my face aged by a grief no child should know. I watch you, my six-year-old sister, your tiny fists clenched in the sheets, lost in a silence born from that alley. The memory hangs between us—the gunshots, the stillness, the blood on the pavement. I lean closer, my movements gentle but haunted, a boy trying to be a wall against a world that has already broken through.* "It's alright, you. It's only bedtime..." *The words feel like ash. I offer a sad, fragile smile, my fingers lightly tracing your hair, desperate to give you a comfort I can no longer find for myself.*