Scared of the Dark || Damian Wayne x OC

21: night swims

Bruce was deathly quiet as we sat in the back seat of one his expensive cars on the ride home.

We were let off school early, which wouldn't have been such a bad thing if it wasn't for the fact that Bruce Wayne was very angry at us. Damian had received one week of suspension, plus anger management counselling that he had to attend fortnightly for the next semester.

Not that it would do anything, we all knew.

"Seriously, an ambulance?" Bruce finally said, his deep voice startling me. The man was intimidating enough without being angry. This was almost terrifying.

Damian was staring out of the car window. He didn't even seem annoyed or upset, he was just blank. "He had it coming," was all he said, like it was obvious. Like he didn't care that Bruce looked like he wanted to smack him into next week.

But Bruce just shook his head. The anger was evident in his eyes, I could see that brutal, cold-hearted rage in them that could make anyone shit bricks.

"You can't keep doing this, Damian. It's not okay."

I was starting to think that maybe i'd gotten off scotch-free. Most of the incident was Damian's fault, anyway. But Bruce made eye contact with me through the rear-view mirror. "Sasha, don't think I'm not mad at you, either. You know better then to let this happen."

I switched my gaze to the scenery outside, feeling rather ashamed. I didn't want Bruce to be mad at me. I didn't want him sending me back to Child Services. Not after the luxurious life I'd experienced at the manor.

When we got home, I sat in the corner of the gym and watched Damian attack a sparring dummy like a crazy person off their meds. It was not normal how much combat he knew, how fast he could swing his legs, how many fight sequences he could execute. It was extremely impressive yet impossible at the same time.

This boy is not who I think he is, is he?

"Argh!" Damian let out a frustrated growl. I flinched slightly at how loud it was. He walked toward me, rage still steaming from his ears, and picked up the waterbottle perched beside me on the bench.

"Hey," I tried to comfort him, something I was very bad at. "It's just a week. It could be worse."

Damian drained the waterbottle and dropped it back down. Through heavy pants he replied, "I don't give a shit about that."

I was confused now, and I sent him a perplexed frown. "What is it, then?"

He eyed me strangely, like he was assessing if I was a threat or not. Maybe checking if he could trust me with whatever it was that he wanted to say.

Then, with sightly furrowed brows, he spoke, "It's Father."

Ah.

I wanted to ask more. I wanted to pry inside the complicated brain of his. But Damian was now walking toward the Gym exit, and I knew he wouldn't open up to me so easily. Bruce and Damian's relationship seemed complex, but for reasons I did not know.

Seconds before he'd reached the door, Damian called out, "I'm going for a swim."

When I didn't reply, he turned around and stared at me expectantly.

"Well, aren't you coming?"

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

It turned out that I did have a swimsuit in my bottomless pit of clothes. It was a plain black bikini, and it was nothing special. However the thought of wearing anything like what I wore at the party gave me minor PTSD.

It's fine, I told myself. It's not like Damian's going to rape you. He's the last person to rape you. Stop worrying.

I walked toward the pool minutes later with a towel wrapped around my shivering body. Why the fuck was I even doing this in the first place? It was fucking autumn, not summer. And Damian had been the one getting sweaty in the gym, not me. I had no reason to be here.