The Angel of Death

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I let the older boy tug off my shirt and unwind the bandage around my shoulder. All that was left of the wound was a pale, shiny scar that would fade in time, and the stitches, which were becoming uncomfortably itchy. I kept my eyes averted as Dick stared at the stitches for a long time. He un-taped the bandages that had been fixed to the injuries on my ribs, to be met with the same result- fading scars. He was quiet for a long time. Eventually, he stood up, and without another word, left the room, closing the door behind him.

I had been prepared for this outcome, I knew it was an inevitability at some point, but it still hurt so bad. I had traded the pain of physical injuries for the pain of emotional ones. The last time I had cried- really cried- had been when Bianca had died, and I was surprised to find myself crying harder now, if anything. Curling into myself on the bed, surrounded by blood-less bandages and unspoken words.

Things were coming so fast- first the kraken, then the prophecy, then meeting Bruce and his sons, then being kidnapped and attacked by hellhounds. Now this? Had I not been through enough? When was it going to be enough? When could I stop fighting the God's wars, when could I step away from all this danger and lying and death? What had I ever done to have to live this hell over and over again; every time I felt cared about and safe, I had to be abandoned. The Fates must hate me, there was no other explanation.

Of course there's another explanation. You don't think anyone really wants to spend time with you, do you? Your mother was killed because you existed, and Bianca died because you weren't good enough to make her stay. Countless people died because of you, and countless people will still die. Do you not remember the prophecy? You're a traitor. Everyone's afraid of you, they always have been. You carry death around like a badge of honour, when really it makes everyone around you sick. This is your fault.

My nails dug harshly into my scalp where I was gripping my head. My breath escaped in hitched, silent sobs, tears sliding down my jaw. It had been a long time since I had felt this bad. Gods, the last time I had a panic attack like this was at least a full year ago. I knew the things my mind shouted at me weren't true, but it was so hard to keep from spiralling out of control. I had grown up being blamed for things and I had learnt to turn blame on myself too. I had thought I was getting better, thought I had this thing under control but apparently not.

Not only was I a walking pocket of death, the part of me that was human was defective.

Dick didn't come back. No one came in, and I was glad for it as I slowly calmed down and swallowed back the rest of the tears. I had to be rational right now. I knew my dream held clues about the prophecy- the crows kept tugging at my mind (I was avoiding thinking about Dead Me as much as I could)- and my biggest secret had been revealed. I had to talk to Chiron. I had to leave before I was kicked out. I had to figure out what was happening.

I had begun tossing things into my bag- extra clothes, any food I had laying around, my dagger- when my door was opened. Tim slipped around the frame, closing the door after himself. I froze. Was he going to try to make me stay? Force me out? I hadn't spent much time with Tim, I didn't know him well enough to be able to predict what he would do. He eyed my back, the mess strewn around the room.

"What did you do?" He demanded, voice low. His expression hovered somewhere between confusion, anger, and sadness. "I saw Dick leave a while ago. He hadn't come back, and I know he was in here before he left. You've always been kind of weird, but lately...just, what did you do?"

I searched Tim's closed-off eyes before sighing. "I'm sorry. This is my fault. I should have never come here, everything is falling apart and I don't know how to fix it."

"So you're going to run away? As soon as things get hard, that's what you do, right? You ran off before, too. After you and Jason fought yesterday, after you were kidnapped- why can't you face your problems, Nico?"

"...Because if I step wrong, my 'problems' could cause a war, Tim. They have before. And I hurt everyone I'm close to, you won't be any different. It's better if I leave while I still can, while you still have a chance to–"

"To what, Nico? Recover from you running off and getting killed out there on your own? Forgetting you? That's not how this works! You're part of our family now, no matter how weird you are or how many times you fight with us, you are our brother, Nico! We already lost Jason once, please don't make us live through losing you too."

I could feel my chest tightening again. "You won't be losing anything, Tim. If I do stay, you will lose everything. I'm trying to do the right thing! You don't understand what's happening, what is going to happen, regardless of where I am or who thinks they can protect me. Because the truth is that it's you who needs to be protected from me! I thought I could leave it all behind, I thought things would be okay, that I could start over, but now it's all falling apart again and it's my fault and there's nothing I can do to stop any of it!"

I couldn't breathe.

"Okay." Tim's voice had softened drastically. "Okay, I believe you. But you know we don't care about any of that stuff, right? Do you even know who you're living with? If Batman's kids can't protect themselves, then the whole world is doomed anyways. You don't have to explain anything right now, you don't have to worry about anything, because if there's one thing this family can do, it's save the world. We've done it before. Whatever you or your enemies can throw at us, we can handle it. Not alone, but that's the thing, Nico. If you keep doing this, if you keep fighting to solve everything by yourself, you're not going to fix anything. If you keep running off, you're going to push away the people who are willing to help you, because we are. We will help you, whatever you're facing, whatever you are, we've all probably seen worse. So don't leave. Please." 

my science class was voting on who would end up in prison for what crimes, and it was unanimously decided i would not end up in prison at all. 

for not committing a crime and being a good, law-abiding citizen? 

Noooooo. 

It was decided i would have mulitple accounts of first-degree murder under my belt, i just wouldn't get caught. 

I feel flattered? I think?