COLLIDE ― ❝in the chaos, we found each other❞
IN WHICH young Veronica Parker is assigned to a case involving a little girl with mysterious powers, but unbeknownst to her will also be forced to face her past and try to combat what may be the end of t...
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tw: disassociation, blood, brief mentions of self harm, very brief mention of death. please don't read if any of these trigger you. it ends when the italics stop and it is simply just a flashback memory, so please do not feel obligated to read it. you won't miss anything all too important to the story itself.
Gotham City, 15 Years Ago
There was no way to really describe the feeling of despair and sorrow that burrowed it's way into Dick Grayson's flesh. All he felt was a heavy weight, a slight tingling in his bones, and a detachment from reality. It was as if his eyes were blurred and he was staring through a thin veil, his view hazy, and floating upon air. He wasn't even sure if he was actually...there. Felt more like a dream, the kind you get when you're teetering on the edge of consciousness and unconsciousness, where your mind is still alive and aware but your body itself is relaxed and content.
A grave with freshly shoveled dirt stood before them, and although an inanimate object, it held more than just his parents dead bodies underneath it. The white rose in his hand too symbolized more than just remembrance.
He stared down at the silky white petals, thorns jutting out from the side of the stem threateningly.
He pricked his finger on one.
The blood trickled down the side, staining the skin in an almost elegantly graceful stream. It didn't even hurt.
He pricked it again.
The blood poured down harsher, more vicious. He thought it looked rather pretty, calm.
"Dick." Clay, the strongman from his family's circus, whispered from beside him, concern etched into his brows at the blood which trailed down the boys finger. Dick just stared up at him, eyes devoid of emotion, face completely relaxed.
"M'sorry, was just an accident." He excused, wiping the beautiful red he was so fascinated by on his black jacket, leaving in it's wake a slightly darker stain on the pocket. Clay placed his hand on Dick's shoulder, a way to comfort him, he knew.
As if that would do much now.
Nonetheless, he appreciated the gesture. Dick's hand curled tighter around the stem of the flower, thorns pricking his palm like they had teeth, were starving, and he was simply their prey.
He didn't mind it, though. It concentrated the pain. Made him feel just a little better. Perhaps...maybe the memories would fade out with the blood.
