Scared of the Dark || Damian Wayne x OC

07: the mall

Blood was everywhere.

The floor. Walls. Windows. Curtains. Ceiling. Even the nice Persian rug in the corner.

It was in my hair. It was across my face.

I wanted to cry.

"Let's go," father told me. He jumped out the window, expecting me to follow. My heart was pounding.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

What had I just done?

The little girl's body lay in the middle of the kitchen. A man was lying in his own blood under the coffee table. The woman was dead in the bathtub.

And there were many, many soldiers scattered across the apartment. Everywhere. Covered in their own blood and other's.

My hands were shaking. It was horrible. It was terrifying. I should have screamed. Why wasn't I screaming?

Oh my god. Oh my god.

"Sasha, I said we're going," father's stern voice interrupted my thoughts. I felt frozen. So horrible. So terrifying. I needed to leave.

I glanced down at the gun in my hand. It shook violently. Crimson liquid dripped to the floor. The blood-soaked floor. Innocent blood. Guilty blood. What was the difference? Did it even matter?

I followed my father to the roof. I wouldn't look at him, he would see how weak I was. It was dark outside, well past midnight. I was scared. Scared of the dark after everything I'd just done.

My father's words broke the silence. "You have another mission. Theo Linetti wants a family dead."

No, no, no, no.

I couldn't do this again. Wouldn't. I swallowed hard and tasted blood in my mouth. I felt sick. "Father, I..."

He glared at me. "Don't talk back to me."

"But I... I'm... I don't want to do this..." I stuttered. Father stared at me for a long time. I shouldn't have spoken back. I was an idiot. This was my job.

He grabbed my arm forcefully. "We're going. Now," his voice cut into me like knives. "No," I whispered. "No!" I yelled louder. I struggled in his grip.

"You can't make me! I'm not an assassin, I'm not an assassin!" I screamed while he dragged me across the roof. Tears flooded down my face. Tears? I had not cried in a long time.

He growled at me, "Shut up."

"But... but I'm scared!"

Father turned to me, eyes as cold as ice. "Then learn to control it."

---------------------

I woke up sweating. The dreams were getting clearer the longer I was away from Midnight.

It was horrible, the things I had done. I was a horrible person. I shouldn't have done it. Shouldn't have done any of it. Why did I listen to them? Why did I do all those terrible things?

He made me.

It didn't matter anymore, though. This was the beginning of a new life.

It's in the past now, I told myself as I got out of bed. I was trying to be comforting, and it was not working.

Breakfast that morning was amazing. Alfred had cooked up every kind of meal imaginable — from french toast to pancakes to waffles to fruit bowls. There was enough food to feed my entire class at Midnight for a few days.