"Ladies and Gentlemen...."
The loud booming voice of Mr. Haley echoes through my head.
"The incredible...... The spectacle..... The once in a life time performance of..... The Flying Grayson's!!!"
The sounds of the crowd cheering our names, I still get flashes of their cheerful faces as they shove popcorn and cotton candy into their mouths. The kids pulling on the sleeves of their parents coats, pointing up at the elephants as they passed by, and the exotic people standing above them all on high platforms. They waved, smiling. Their smiles. They haunt my dreams, that's all I ever see.
My mother leaned down, kissing my forehead lightly. "I love you, my Robin. You're going to do great tonight." I smiled believing every word she said. She turned back to the crowd, she gave my father on the other side of the ring, the look. They jumped from their platforms, reaching for the bars that swung. Then released and held on to each other. I watched in amazement, I had seen the act a thousand times, it never got old or boring. The crowd was a choir of 'ows' and 'aws', as they flipped back and forth. I was so caught up in the act I almost missed my que. I jumped reaching for my mothers arms, her grip tightened around mine. The wind felt like an old friend as I swung through the air, I flipped onto the other platform, waving to the crowd. That's when I heard it.
Snap.
As I looked to my left, the wires had snapped, sending my parents to their deaths. I looked over the edge of the wood, seeing my parents broken and bloodly bodies laying motionless below. I hadn't heard it, but a sickening scream left my mouth. Tears ran down my face as I quickly made my way down the ladder, I pushed the crowd away. I dropped to my knees, feeling the peanut shells beneath me. My mothers dead eyes staring deeply into mine. My hand pressed against her cheek. I was screaming, screaming for them to wake up. Mr. Haley tried pulling me away from the gruesome scene, I kicked fighting to stay by their sides. If only I still had that same fight left in me.
The funeral was dark, gloomy, rain pouring from the skies. The entire circus was there, I didn't expect anything less. A man, a very rich man, paid for the whole thing. I never met him, and I don't know why he did. I never got the chance to thank him, I guess there's no point now. I grew up without a mother, or a father, or a warm comforting place to call home. I didn't have anyone to tell me the difference between right and wrong. I often think of how my parents would react if they saw me now, or how any of my old circus friends would react. Mr. Haley would surely have my head. After the death of my parents, I wasn't adopted into a loving home, no, I was left at a Juvenile Detention Center, abandoned is a more appropriate term. I stayed there, slowly being forgotten, for years. Until they decided I was taking up to much space, so they let me go. Let me go, to roam the streets of Gotham as a thirteen year old kid. And what a great idea that was.
_______
10 years later....
(after parents death)
The honking of a car passing by startled me awake. I sat up, pushing myself off the bench I was sleeping on. The sun made me flinch, why does the thing have to be so damn bright? By the looks of the traffic, I'd say early morning rush hour. I shrugged, joining the crowded busy sidewalks. I read into my coat pocket, pulling out a cigarette lighting it as I went. I turned down alleyway after alleyway, getting further away from the busy city. I passed by the corner, the girls who knew me oh too well, were standing in their usual spots.
"Hey, Dick." One whistled.
"Hey Shayleen." I winked.
"You ever gonna swing by, we haven't seen you in months?" Another girl asked basically checking me up and down. A fiery red head beside her glared at me. "Tell your brother he still owes me money!"
"Will do." I said puffing the smoke out as I walked down the alley. I jumped up onto the dumpster, pulling myself onto the fire escape, slipping into the broken window. I flicked my cigarette away before I entered. I rolled my eyes as loud snoring came to my ears. A young boy around my age, laid asleep on the couch, one leg hanging off along with an arm. He was in boxers and a red tshirt. I kept walking, hitting him as I passed. The boy flinched awake. I swiped the bottle of tequila off the cluttered coffee table as I made my way to the kitchen. The boy sat up, rubbing his eyes.
"How did it go?" He asked yawning. I stuck my head in the fridge.
"Got a few hundred bucks. But, if we want to buy that extra shipment, we're going to need to find away to get more money." I took a swig from the bottle. "Why don't we have any food?" I complained. The boy walked lazily up behind me.
"Yeah, I guess we've been out for a few days." He shrugged.
"Jason, I swear if you ate all my damn hot pockets." I warned opening up the freezer.
"Relax I didn't touch your hot pockets." I sighed in relief once I saw they were still in their place. Jason sat back down on the couch, leaning forward, sticking his face in the coffee table, in a quick motion he snorted something up. He shook his head as the rush flowed through him, he sighed leaning his head back, letting his body fall to the couch. The room began to spin, sounds became disoriented. I took a seat next to him, taking a bite of my hot pocket then a swig from the bottle then handing it off to my brother, who graciously accepted.
"Do you ever want to something more with your life?" Jason asked staring up at the ceiling.
"Jason, there's nothing else guys like us can do. We're stuck in this life," I lit another cigarette, "rather you like it or not." I sighed.
"I know, it's just, if you're parents c-"
"Our parents are dead. They can't tell us what to do anymore." I stated with distaste. Jason stopped like he was going to say something, already knowing it was a bad idea.
"Well, not necessarily," Jason said, I froze while pulling the cigarette to my lips, glancing over at Jason who had a mischievous look in his eyes.
"No." I declared closing the distance between my lips and the tobacco.
"Dickie, come on!" Jason whined.
"I said no, Jason, I can't do it. I won't do it." I stated, Jason sighed slumping down into the couch. "Come on, we have somewhere to be." I got up, nudging his knee as I passed. I shuffled my feet down the wall, dust collecting on the floor, rats scurried off clutching on to the crumbs they had discovered. I closed my bedroom door behind me, sighing, as I dropped the cigarette into an unfinished beer can on the dresser. I walked hesitantly to my closet, pulling out a chest out from under my clothes. I didn't have much, but it was enough for me. I ran my fingers down the edges, appreciating the texture. I closed I eyes, taking a deep breath as I heard the click of locks. I slowly raised the heavy lid, peering down to the treasures it held. A smile unknowingly crept on to my pale face. A small chuckle escaped my lips as I picked up a small uniform. Underneath it was a long forgotten poster, my smile dropped as my finger tips lightly touched over the flying figures.
"...Dick...."
A faint scream, nothing more than a disoriented whisper, came to my ears. I clutched my eyes tight, my hands gripping the edge of the trunk.
"No..." I growled, "Not now...."
"...Dick!...." The whisper became louder.
I pulled at my hair, curling up on the floor, tucking my knees to my chest.
"No, no, no, no...." I repeatedly whispered.
"Dick!" This time it was a powerful scream. I flinched at the sound, rocking back and forth.
"Dick?" I heard a knock at the door, I lifted his head up, the pain and pressure that had once been in the room was gone. "Are you ready?" I heard Jason ask from the other side of the room. I stumbled back to my feet, pushing the trunk back in my closet.
"Ye- yeah, I'm ready." I answered frantically. Opening the door, giving my room one last look before I left.
YOU ARE READING
Street Birds
Fanfiction-something old I had hanging in the closet. Needs serious revision. Might not make alot of sense.- Au where Dick was never adopted by Bruce and was sent to a foster care facility. He grew up on the streets, getting into drugs and trouble. He has a s...
