Robin's Book Of One-Shots (Slow Updates)

Nightmare

Damian stared at his reflection, taken back by his appearance. His skin was ashen and his eyes were dull, a sight which almost startled him. His hair was sticking to his sweaty forehead and his hands were clammy. He swallowed, trying to get any moisture in his dry mouth. He was sleep deprived, sick, and oblivious to the fact that Bruce had been knocking on his door for the last five minutes.

"Damian!"

The boy whipped around quickly when he heard Bruce's voice, much to his regret. The room began to spin and he almost lost his balance.

"Damian are you alright? I've been trying to talk to you for the last couple of minutes and you weren't responding." Bruce had a furrowed brow as he looked at his son.

"I'm fine. Now if you don't mind, I'd like some privacy," Damian said sharply in an attempt to hide the fact that he felt horrible.

He had no clue why he felt so sick. He very rarely became ill. Bruce looked at his son, worried with his appearance.

"You don't look well. You should stay here and rest," Bruce said a little softer than before. "I can go out tonight by myself."

On a normal day Damian would've fought against his fathers request but he was feeling so poorly at that moment that he simply nodded and went to sit on his bed. After Bruce left the room Damian laid down on his cold pillow and closed his eyes. Before he knew it, he was drifting off into a nightmare filled sleep.

He hated his nightmares. They occurred every night, and they were intense. This time he was in a small room, the walls covered in dry blood. There were mangled bodies all around him and he was drenched  in crimson blood. He was wearing his Robin uniform and his katanas were a few feet away, red liquid dripping from them. There were bodies of infants, young children, adults, teens. Some were missing limbs, others had been stabbed at so much they weren't recognizable. He was sitting on his knees in a puddle of blood, surrounded by lifeless forms as his hands shook. The door creaked open and Jokers red smiled came into his view. The clown had a crowbar in his hand and was swinging it around carelessly.

"Well Birdy, you've made quite the mess, haven't you?" He swung at Damian, successfully hitting him on the head, knocking the boy over. He couldn't move. He couldn't fight back. He just laid there, powerless, and it drove him crazy.

The beating that he received was brutal. He ached all over but couldn't do anything. After the Joker had left, he struggled to sit up, his vision splotchy. The bodies that had been motionlessly surrounding him were now upright. Their eyes were open, staring at him eerily, and they began moving towards him. He still couldn't move very much, and the feeling of their cold, stiff fingers on his ankles and arms made him sick. He felt weak and terrified as they clawed their way towards him. They pulled on his arms, ankles, and hair, until they were smothering him, the blood dripping from their wounds into his eyes, mouth, and nose. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see. All he could sense was the sound of their nails scraping against everything they could.

Damian woke with a start, gasping for air as he shot out of bed. He was drenched in sweat and his breathing was rapid. He managed to calm himself down a little, a feeling of fear still in him.

"What the hell," he whispered to himself as he pushed his hair back.

There was a soft knock on his bedroom door, and he jumped, before calming himself again and calling 'come in.'

Dick peered into the room, a concerned look on his face.

"Hey. I heard a shout...?" The blue eyed man stepped  inside, a look of concern on his face.

"It's nothing Grayson. Just a dream," Damian said quietly, trying to forget the images he saw.

Dick was silent for a moment before sitting down at the end of the bed.

"It wasn't 'just a dream'," he said, looking down at the floor.

"Either way, it's still nothing. You should go back to  bed." Damian said, laying back down.

Dick sighed and stood up, his mind wandering to the nightmares he had.

"Night Little D."

Damian sat back up once he left. There was no way he could sleep again. He spent the remainder of the night thinking about what he'd seen, unable to shake the feeling of fear he still had. He always wished he didn't have to deal with this stuff, but then again, even Damian Wayne had nightmares he couldn't shake sometimes. He just hated accepting that.