Damsel | T. Drake ✔

[10]

The rooftop was empty when Tim reached there, a bottle clutched in his hands that he had sneaked out from the party going downstairs.

He was feeling extremely downcast and since coffee couldn't elevate his mood at the moment, he had taken Jay's advice and resorted to the quickest way of escape.

By getting drunk to temporarily forget the pain.

He corked open the bottle, leaning against the wall as he took a deep gulp from it.

The harsh liquid burned down his throat and he ended up coughing since his body wasn't used to alcohol at all. Nevertheless, he downed it ignoring the scorching feeling that had erupted inside.

After two to three gulps, the alcohol in his system began to work and a cloud of unawareness began to tighten its hold over him. Gradually all the worries in his head started to fade, leaving him in a state of ignorance. He stumbled then regained his balance, and walked towards the railings.

Glancing down at the city expanse underneath, he was thinking how he had always been so occupied that he never got to embrace the beauty of life.

But along with that thought came a wave of bitter realization; he had never appreciated what he had because he had always rushed to fulfill all the expectations people had from him.

People who were important to him such as Bruce, Richard, his brothers and friends like Stephanie and Barbara. And excluding them, came the burdensome heap of the expectations Gotham's citizens had from him as Red Robin.

In the race to fulfill expectations, he had neglected himself entirely. He had the burden of being the perfect son, the genius detective as well as the city's protector weighing him down, but never once had he let that come to the surface.

But that night, it seemed as if his self-control had evaporated and he wasn't capable of bearing it anymore. And since he couldn't fail in the eyes of people who looked up to him, he had yet again chosen his own demise.

For one second he actually considered jumping down the roof, swift as a robin plunging down to his end. An end where there would be no pain, no worries, no expectations.

Just eternal sleep.

The idea was more than tempting to him as he placed his feet at the edge, taking a deep breath trying to soak in the feeling of being alive inside him for the last time.

And when he was certain that he had absorbed enough, he simply let go.

The wind brushed past him roughly, inviting him to the realms of death. His eyes watered so he squeezed them shut knowing that the crash would happen any moment.

Then there would be silence instead of the blood pounding in his ears, and the sickening cracks of bones breaking would be drowned in the clamor of the New Year party.

He waited for the crash but nothing happened. There was no sound of breaking bones, there wasn't even any rush of agonizing pain.

The music from the party was still blasting in the background, the wind was just as rough as before but he felt nothing that he had expected.

The first thought crossing his mind was that maybe his heart had stopped the second his feet left the solid floor and he had died before hitting the ground, transitioning smoothly into the afterlife. That could be the only reason why he felt no pain upon his collision with the hard pavement below.

Then a clear voice called out to him from above, making him think it was an angel. But he dared not open his eyes fearing that the trance would be broken.