The Nowhere Girl

18. Of Pasts, Futures, and Ankle Biters

Confession time: I'm a shit kid. Every year I make another pledge to myself that I will be a saint. On the whole I make plenty of pledges that I don't keep.

"You're not being reasonable."

"I hate you! It's your fault Dad left."

"You're selfish and thoughtless. I'm not the irresponsible little girl who spends all day in her room with her head berried in her laptop!"

"You're such a hypocrite, I work just as hard as you do for this farm, and I didn't drive him out!" I yelled.

"How dare you."

"No. You are the worst mum ever!" I had yanked the car door open.

"Stop. Don't you... don't you get in that ute, girl!"

"Move!" I shoved past her. "Oh! This is so unfair!"

"Huh! Unfair?" She tries the close the car door but I rip it from her hands. I'm stronger than her, I have been since I hit puberty.

"You were never there for me! When I had trouble in school, Dad was the one that helped! You pushed and pushed, but I was already doing my best. Do you ever bother to ask what I want? No! I want my dad back! You walk around telling me what to do, what not to do! Trying to make me be like you! Well, I'm not going to be like you!"

"Ach! You're acting like a child!"

I turn on her. "And you're a beast! That's what you are!"

"Gisela!" she scolds as I get in the car.

"I will never be like you! I'd rather die than be like you!" I screamed at her as I started the car.

"You get in that car, you don't come back! You hear me!" she yelled. "You hear me, Gita? Don't come back!"

That was the last time I saw her. It's one thing to lose a mother. It's another thing to never say goodbye.

Someone is shaking me.

I open my eyes; I've passed out at the Batcomputer and Damian is standing over me. He's hunched over, his Robin suit stained red from blood.

"Shit Dami!"

"Well," Damian says, "the zombie lives."

"What happened?"

"I was shot," he says in a 'duh' voice.

I roll my eyes, but the sarcasm doesn't help the grown worry growing in my gut. "Damian..."

Damian doesn't say anything but averts his eyes, his face set in expression that reminds me of a lost dog. Quickly and carefully, I pick him up and carry him to the med bay. Slipping off his cape and armour, I get a clear view of the open wound.

I don't know where Alfred is, but I could really use his help.

"Since when are you the reckless idiot?" I ask, bring out the first aid kit and anastatic.

"Do you even know how treat a bullet wound?"

"Alfred been teaching me, but this is my first real case. Not staged." I put on some rubber gloves before I press a warm clothe to the wound. I see clearly with all the blood, but at least he left the bullet in until he could get proper - or close to proper - attention to it.

He hisses as I numb the area, injecting the anastatic around the wound. "You have a horrible bed-side manner."

"This is going to hurt," I say and raise an eyebrow. How's that for bed-side manner? I take the scalpel and tweezers. "Do you trust me?"