The Normal Life Of The Other Demon

Sure

Demetria's P.O.V.:

It's been three days since I left the office. Three days since I've left this room. I've spent the whole time in the game room, connected to Damian and I's bedroom. The only time that I've left this place is whenever I needed to use the bathroom. Other than that, I lay here on the couch playing the game I had started earlier this month, dying over and over again by the same main villain. The guys would check-in every now and then, to talk to me or send food my way, but I'm too focused and uninterested in small talk. They would leave food on the small table in front of me, taking it back with only a bite taken away on each plate.

It's currently night, 10:37 to be exact. I'm sitting in this dark room, the only things illuminating the place are the moonlight shining through the window and the brightness coming from the television. Father and the others are probably in the Batcave, getting ready for patrol, or are probably already on patrol. Any minute now, Alfred will come up and give me food.

I sigh in frustration, throwing the controller onto the couch. The room illuminates red, as the screen shows blood running down the screen with a terrifying laugh playing in the background. I've just lost to the same clown once again, now I have to start all over again. "This game is so stupid!" I complain, rubbing my hands down my face.

"Wow. You really suck at video games."

I turn around towards the doorway to find Tim standing there with a plate of red noodles and bread in one hand, and a glass of water in another. "What do you want?" I seethe.

He walks over to the couch, closing the door behind him with his foot. "Thought you'd want some food," he says placing the plate of food and drink in front of me.

I look at the food and glare at him.

"Look," he sighs out, "I know we got off on the wrong foot. So I was kind of hoping that we'd fix that." Tim begins to scratch the back of his head while looking down in embarrassment.

I stare at him questioningly. "Is that city term for 'can we start over?'"

"Yeah, basically. So, can we start over?"

I glare at him, thinking about his words. "I didn't appreciate you interiorizing me and my brother, then or now."

"Well, honestly. I don't have a problem with you, so I apologize for that," he admits. "It's your annoying brother that I have a problem with."

"Who doesn't have a problem with him," I say rolling my eyes. "What'd he do to you?" I take the glass of water and sip it, looking at Tim.

"What do you mean?"

"Damian 'got off the wrong foot' with Dick by slashing him non-stop and from what I know, he was insulting Jason. So what did he do to you?"

"His massive ego. He thinks he's better than everyone, he's selfish, uncontrollable, he's—he's—"

"A pain in the ass?" I ask, taking a sip of my water.

"Yeah!" he exclaims. "How can you even breathe the same air as that kid?!"

"We grew up together," I answer, shrugging shoulders. "You get used to the traits of the people around you, to the point where you find it appealing."

"You find his narcissistic personality, appealing?" Tim asks in horror.

"Well, it's more like, I find it calming. It's something you get used to. If he acts out of the ordinary, then I know that there's something wrong. Like how I'm getting used to Damian, Dick, and Jason, fight over nonsense." I place the glass of water down and grab the piece of toasted bread off of the plate of red noodles. "You're probably used to certain traits of the other boys, too." Taking a bite of the bread, my eyes widen in satisfaction. This is good.