This is Me

This just came to me whilst I was sitting in front of my computer so I quickly wrote it down—it's a oneshot. I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: Obviously I own nothing of the Batman Begins franchise etc.

I walk down the leaf- littered street in the company of the kind oak trees, my mind vaguely aware of my surroundings as random thoughts secretly churn in its' feverish depths. The wind gently tosses my black hair across my head as I cross the main road and leave my coveted solitude in the background. My worn sneakers scuff lazily at the crisp October leaves. My mind wakes up from its' daze as it perceives the images that make my pulse quicken ever so slightly each day.

I enter the schoolyard, not visibly afraid but wishing that I can remain invisible, like one of the leaves that blend into the background. I usually am, but every so often I am brutally pulled out of my protective cloak and made to stand before them like one of the damned in the ancient Salem. Like one of the condemned, as I ascend the concrete stairs I can hear scattered whispers and raucous laughter. I do not know if all are directed towards me, but as I enter the hall I know that at least a few of them are.

I stride to my locker, automatically avoiding a group of athletes and their girlfriends by making a wide circle. They are gathered around the notice board, where the results of the chemistry test were posted yesterday. Their broken speech is peppered with irritation and complaint. I know they spy me as I pass them for I hear their grumbles suddenly erupt into ignorant jeers. I ignore them out of habit, my face an eternal mask of indifference. I quickly store the books for my second class in the locker, my head abruptly jerking forward from a shove as I place the last one atop the stack. I swallow my humiliation and complete my task, thankful it does not escalate into something more. The noise starts to dim as people file into their classrooms.

I sit at my usual place in the front row, oblivious to whatever stares and perverse gestures that may be secretly thrown my way. I hungrily absorb the lesson on introductory analysis of the human mind. It fascinates me how neglected this intangible portent is; it possesses, I am sure, powers beyond that which can be comprehended by man. My morning sessions pass on in monotony, punctuated by conversations with my teachers and the inevitable confrontation with my loathsome peers. I can easily brush off insults; they do me no harm. It is only the physical altercations that I dread.

Although I may fight back, in the ending I am always defeated, my fury insatiable but repressed. My spirit has been broken so many times without me even realizing it that I imagine myself impenetrable to further adversity. So I have my lunch on a solitary bench in corridor, comfortable with the day. For I know, inexplicably, resolutely, that I am above them. I am aware that at present they are considered to be of a higher station in life, but that is all an illusion. Even if they are more successful than me in later life, I will remain better than them. You see, my mind is not corrupted with the stench of conformity, something which has been twisted by them to suit their own selfish needs. They are blinded by it, and will never have intimate understanding of their minds as I have. That knowledge is what gets me through this heaven of torture that is my life.

The day is over and I retrace my steps, back through the swaying oak trees. Not so long ago, she would be waiting there for me, looking frail against the weathered bark. We would walk home together as we talked, and it was the highlight of my day. Now I walk alone, for she waits no more. The police had ruled it an accident, ignoring my protests to the contrary. She was buried not too far from here, in peace at last from her harsh life. She always told me that I was the best part, but I constantly feel sorrow that I was spawned by the very one who had given her so much misery and eventually, cruelly taken her life. He would be at home now, waiting. I am not scared, because I have a little surprise for him soon.

I did not think of it alone; I had help. One day, when I was going home, he came to me. I had frozen, scared but strangely exhilarated. The trees were silent and no one was with me. My lips had not moved, yet it was me who had spoken. Gradually, I came to realize that I already had superior control of my mind. He obeyed only me. He was precise, disciplined and unapologetic. He would be my saviour from the eternal grief that I otherwise would not overcome. Together we planned. Our alliance is odd and secretive, one that was forged from the depths of unspeakable despair. I am forever enthralled by him; I know when he is with me.

I can taste him, although no one else can.

He has many scents; I smell him, but no one else can.

Most importantly, though, he speaks and I hear him, but no one else can…

We are and will forever remain one…he is part of who I am…and this is me.

A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed that. Of course you know who I'm writing about. The reason I didn't mention the fear factor is b/c this is the beginning of his transformation…he hasn't yet endured enough to think about that, it's just on the horizon of his mind.

Thanks for reading.

FalconHorror