The School Life of The Other Demon

House-Arrest

Demetria's P.O.V.:

Seconds turn into minutes; minutes turn into hours; hours turn into days—days of non-stop recovering. I've spent numerous days trying to get back on my feet, struggling to prevent myself from stumbling. Although I'm not the best as I was before, I am positive that I can still beat Damian in a fight.

Damian and I are sitting in the gym room within the manor, sitting on the matted floor, staring at the sky with our arms propping us up. Sweat drips down our bodies. Our chests rise with every heavy breath as our perspiration fogs up the mirrors.

Dumbbells, weights, and all of the other gym equipment lay askew, touched, and used. The rings from the ring tower slowly swing forward and back, captivating us. Our memories are slowly coming back, enough to recognize everyone and understand their references, but some things are a little blurry.

Father, Pennyworth, and all of the other guys within our family are constantly looking over us, preventing us from going outside. The only times we could go outside are if Pennyworth and one of the other family members are present, or at least two of the family members are at home. People from the league come and go, visiting us, staring at us, whispering about us. Not that we care, no, but the slight hesitation when they're around us is prominent.

"Damian, Demetria."

Our heads snap to the side, staring straight at the entrance, finding Dick standing there with his head peeking out of the side.

"Time for lunch," he says, walking towards us and grabbing a towel for each of us from the entrance, tossing it towards us. "Tim made some tuna sandwiches."

"Are they edible?" I ask, standing up from my sitting position, wiping the sweat off of my forehead.

"Better than Bruce's," Tim says, leaning on the doorframe of the entrance. "That I'm positive about."

"Tch. Better be," Damian mumbles, holding the towel to his side. "Let's go, Dee."

"Taste test it for me, Dami." I walk next to Damian, exiting the gym room whilst Dick and Tim follow from behind.

"Taste test? Are you feeling okay?" Dick asks, jogging to catch up to Damian and me, putting the back of his hand to my forehead. "You don't seem to have a fever."

"Why would you think that I'm ill?" I ask him, swatting his hand away.

"Because you usually jump first for food," Tim answers as we enter the living room.

"Correction. Good food."

"Are you implying that my food isn't good?"

"Tch. It's just a sandwich," Damian says, rolling his eyes.

"Can you make a sandwich?"

"It can't be that hard."

"Your dad failed at making a tuna sandwich," Dick deadpans.

"Everyone's food is inferior to Alfred's," I argue.

All three of the boys fall silent, coming to an agreement a beat later. We all enter the kitchen in silence, finding Jason sitting at the little island, staring at his phone as he stuffs a sandwich in his mouth.

"Jason!" Tim yells. "Don't eat it all! It's for the twins!"

"Wait. Just for the twins?" Dick asks.

"Mostly for the twins."

"I thought you hated them," Jason comments, stuffing the rest of the sandwich in his mouth.