'The laugh. Oh god the laugh. Anything but that. I've tried to get it out of my head, I've blasted music, I've done meditation, I've even listened to recordings to try and make myself numb to it but nothing helps. Tonight though, tonight it isn't just the laugh. Tonight there's memories, twisted flashbacks. And I can't escape it. I see that warehouse floor, I see those shiny purple pointed shoes stained with the blood I spat on them. I see the chairlegs with my moms bare bloodied feet. I see the shadow rising against the wall and I stiffen, readying my body for the brutal blow to my chest but when the shadow slammed down instead of feeling the spasming pain of solid metal colliding with my body I watched the pair of arms swing the crowbar down onto someone else's body. I heard the agonizing sound of a bone crunching. I cringed remembering how that felt. I heard the sound of raspy breathing, (I remember trying desperately to breath, despite my collapsed lung. It would probably have been better if I'd just given up right there, maybe I could have saved myself from some more pain but I was a stubborn kid) followed by maniacal laughter. My stomach churned, I saw the arms raise again, preparing for another wicked blow. I couldn't take it anymore, I felt my body lunging for the sick bastard who took pleasure in beating me. My hands grasped around his purple trench coat but instead of looking into the eyes of the man- monster who killed me the coat went limp. The body disappeared leaving a lifeless jacket in my shaking hands. I cursed and spit, hurling the jacket on the ground.
"J- Jason?" I turned around to face the victim. I knelt down beside his head, gently brushing the hair from his face.
"I'm so sorry kid. This wasn't meant for you, it was meant for me." He was dressed up in my old Robin costume, bloodied yellow symbol on his chest and everything. I still couldn't tell who he was, could have just been a random kid off the street but I needed to know. I gently reached for the side of his torn green domino mask and pulled it off whispering about how I wasn't going to hurt him. The mask fell to the ground and I looked right into his eyes, my heart sank to my shoes, dread and panic filled my body. Those eyes weren't the eyes of a stranger, no those were the eyes that had boiled my blood when I'd first come back. The ones I'd partly blamed for what I'd found out when I came back. Those were the eyes of the brother I'd never deserved, the one who still tolerated me even after I'd tried to put him in the ground just like Bruce had done to me.
"TIM!" I gripped my bed sheets leaping up, my heart was hammering against my ribcage trying to break free and flop around on my bed like a dying fish, sweat dripped down my back and neck, making my hair stick to my forehead. I gulped in air and grabbed for the gun on my side table. I clutched it in front of me with both hands and fired, killing the nonexistent Joker that leered over me. I fired again and again. The sound jolting me back into reality, my hands shook violently making the gun raddle. I pressed the end of the gun to the side of my head, my entire body shaking uncontrollably this time. My body broke into a cold sweat and I tilted the guns towards the ceiling, barely missing the top of my head and fired. They were just blanks but still. Those, if used properly, can kill. The gun slipped from my hand and my body collapsed back onto the bed. I lay there, trying to control my breathing until my heart rate went down. I begged myself to go back to sleep, trying to convince myself that maybe the nightmares were over for tonight. But every time I closed my eyes all I could see was Tim's mangled body, his ribs visibly broken, almost sticking out through his skin, his black hair matted with blood, clown makeup was dripping off his face, his eyes pleading for me to help him and an unnatural grin was forced across his face. I shivered. I needed to get rid of that image, I needed to make sure Tim was ok.