[IN THE END] - DICK GRAYSON - YOUNG JUSTICE

CHAPTER 1

        Richard John Grayson was now six.  At such a young age, he shouldn't have a worry in the world.  But that wasn't the case.  He wasn't an average six year old.  He had been through much more than most.  Alive for roughly two-thousand, one hundred and ninety days and he was already suffering from depression.  Locked up in a cell, the only thing he could do was think.

                He had been in the juvenile delinquency center for a couple of months at this point.  No one was willing to take him in yet, and the only orphanage in Gotham was full.  Still too young to comprehend why he was here rather than the orphanage, he thought that he had done something wrong.  If it wasn't bad enough that his parents had died four months ago, he started to believe it was his fault.  All he could think about was if he told someone what the man was going to do.  He heard him say that he would make the circus pay, and Dick was smart enough to figure out what the man meant when he watched the rope "accidently" snap. 

                The days became longer, and the nights became endless.  Dick was scared and alone.  The only thing there to keep him company were the white walls that suffocated his well being.  When he came, he brought his stuffed elephant ellie with him, but being in a juvenile facility, you can't expect everyone to play nice.  It was his first day and he was so confused when they threw him in his cell.  He was finally released a couple hours later to get lunch, so he let ellie tag along.  He grabbed his tray and brought it to a table where he sat all alone.  Then some older kids surrounded him and grabbed the stuffed toy.  Richard stood up to reach for him, but the older kids were just about twice his size.  They dangled the elephant over his head laughing obnoxiously.  Dick then began to cry as they ran away his prized possession.  He would of chased after them if it weren't for the workers ordering the youngsters back to their cells.  Apparently, the bullies chose arts and crafts as their hour of free time because the next day at lunch they returned with ellie, who had been cut into pieces. 

                So now, months later, all he had left was one photo of his parents.  But after the first day, he made sure to keep it hidden under his pillow.  On occasion, he took it out and looked at it.  He would do so more often, but it made him conscious of how alone he was.  He would rather stare out the window to see barb wire.  There was no escaping this hell.  He was sure he would be here forever.  Who wanted a Gypsy like him?  The more he thought about years going by in this prison, the more he realized his life was of no value.  

                As the days passed, a routine began to develop, and it didn't change for the eight months he was there.  He would awake at early hours, usually because of a nightmare, and wouldn't bother going back to sleep because he was so distraught.  Then he would lay in bed and think, until the presence of light entered the room.  At this hour it was time for breakfast, so he would crawl out of bed, and try to reassure himself that it would be alright.  He would leave his room, and rush to eat so he wasn't forced to socialize with any of the others.  He would return to his cell and then gaze out the window until he was called out again.  Lunch was no different than breakfast, so he returned to his room relatively quick.  By this hour in the day he began to feel drowsy, from the constant loss of sleep.  Sometimes he would take a short nap, and on other days when he still couldn't rest his eyes he would just lay there.  He should be out doing something for his hour of free time, but he always skipped it.  Dinner time also varied.  Sometimes he convinced himself that the two meals were enough for the day just to avoid the delinquents.  On days like that he would starve, due to the fact they served a bowl of cereal at breakfast, and a roll at lunch.  Other days though, he would be so hungry that he forced himself to go, and shoved dinner down his throat just to please his appetite.  After dinner, or just lying down more, he would plop down in front of the window once again.  Sometimes his thoughts were distracted when a bright light struck his eye, though the sky had been cloaked in black.  H couldn't quite make out what it was because it had always been blurry.  But by then he would be yawning, so he would go back to bed.  He would continue his pondering, though at this hour, in a room all dark and scary, his thoughts were more aggressive.  Resulting in crying himself to sleep each night.