AN: Okay, so this idea popped up in my head and it would not leave me alone until I wrote it out and uploaded it. So what if a girl with a tragic childhood was adopted by Bruce and became part of the Batfamily? I also wondered what it would be like if she were black (I'm black so this what I imagine what my life would be like if I were part of aforementioned family. So, sue me.) This is only my second story, and my first story with an OC, so please be gentle.

Warnings: Language and abuse (verbal, physical, sexual) drinking, and drugs.

Something Old

SMAK

The sound had played over and over in her head, like a broken record. And her cheek throbbing from where she was slapped wasn't helping any either. So there Brooke was, sitting on her bed curled up in a ball and wept silently. While looking out the window at the thunderstorm outside, rain drops hitting the glass, and lightening lighting up the room for a moment as she recalls the events that had just transpired.

Dad had just staggered home from the bar. But Brooke did see why he needs to go to a bar. As far as she was concerned, he had enough booze to open his own bar. But he still went, and every time when he came home drunk, he would go on a rampage. He would start with mom first. He would go on and on about how she wasn't anything that she's trash. With every insult came a slap or a punch or sometimes even a kick. And all the while Brooke was in the hallway clutching to her teddy bear for comfort, like any normal nine-year old would do.

When he caught sight of Brooke, she gasped and ran to her room down the hall. Soon her father was in her room and closed the door.

"What the hell were you doing?" he yelled, slurring his words.

"I, uh, was um..." she said trying and failing to say what she was doing.

"Uh, um. Spit it out!" the bastard shouted, losing what was left of his patience.

"Nothing, daddy. I'm sorry" Brooke said. Her voice otherwise strong, confidence, and cheer were compromised, and were now weak, doubtful, and full of total and complete fear; knowing what is about to happen.

"Sorry my ass! You always pull this kind of crap" he said as he moved closer to the bed that Brooke was on and started to point his finger at her. "But you know what? You're nothing but trash, worthless!" SLAP "Just like your mother. But at least your mother is pretty. You're the ugliest, most undeserving piece of shit I've seen." And then he started unbuckling his pants.Then Brooke made the mistake of making a whimper at the degrading words that her father had just said about her.

SLAP

"What did you say? No talking when I'm speaking to you, damnit!"

"Y...Yes sir."

By this time "daddy" had his pants and boxers down and was moving to do the same to the little girl before him. "I didn't even want a girl in the first goddamn place. And I got a girl who's a little bitch. Now I have to show you what bitches go through and how to deal with it because you are always gonna be a bitch."

Now Brooke's pants and underwear were down. She knew better than to fight back. The last time, she ended up with a really bad bruise on both arms that was still healing. And she knew better than to scream or yell for help. She always got slapped really hard across the face that would leave a mark. Besides, even if she did scream or yell no one would hear her. The only person who could hear her cries for help were her mother. But she was useless. Mom would always smoke crack after "daddy" would go on his rampage and would be too high to process the thought that her daughter was screaming for help, where her husband was and what he was probably doing, and try to stop whatever was going on. So all that little nine-year old Brooke could do was close her eyes, keep her mouth shut, and hope and pray that it would be over soon.

As she sat there in the dark clutching Sparkle (her teddy bear), silently crying, all that Brooke could think of was her father's insults.

'You're the ugliest, most undeserving piece of shit I've seen.'

Contrary to what her father said, Brooke was a pretty little girl. She had beautiful chocolate-brown skin, long black hair and eyelashes, big brown eyes, nice smile. In short, she was just as beautiful as her mother was, maybe a little more. Almost everywhere Brooke and her mother, Courtney, went people would say something like "Oh, she's beautiful. She looks just like her mother." Why her father could not see that was beyond not only Brooke, but beyond just about anybody you'd ask. At one point or another, Brooke actually thought that she was pretty. But in coming Julius, the bastard she has for a father, and shattered that thought. Every picture day at her school, Brooke would wear a red dress and everyone would tell her how pretty she looked, but instead she thought 'No I don't. I'm a ugly piece of shit' echoing her father's words. So much for fathers supposed to be boosting their daughter's self-esteem.

But daddy wasn't bad all the time. Sometimes they would sit down on the couch, and watch a movie. He would always drink beer, and asked if she wanted any. Out of curiosity, Brooke would say yes and to her surprise, she really liked it. So they would finish whatever movie they were watching, sharing a bottle of beer. But if you compare the good times versus the bad times with her dad, there was no competition. At least she could go over to her, friend Andy's house and play sometimes. And when she did go, she would stay for as long as she could. Thank God that she was going to Andy's house tomorrow. But for now, Brooke was just going to try to go to sleep. Sleep was good. Sleeping allowed her to escape the world that she lived in and all its problems that came with it. Sleeping let her control the world and the life that she wanted to live. Especially if tonight was one of the nights that daddy came home from the bar drunk. So, Brooke laid there and cried herself to sleep. Yes, sleep truly is good for the soul.

It was 7:30 on a Wednesday evening. Brooke just came home from Andy's house, and she could tell that something was off. Normally her mom would greet her at the door, but this was not the case. She started looking around the house for mom as she called out "Mom."

Living room... empty.

Dinning room... empty.

Kitchen... empty.

Then she moved to her parents' room when she saw it... or her rather. Her mom, was passed out on the floor. She must be high. Brooke immediately thought. She walked over to her mom to wake her up, but tried to no avail. Uh oh, she normally responds Brooke thought as she looked for the place on her neck to check her pulse. She's not breathing. Her body is... cold. Please god, no. She found the place on her mom's neck where the pulse can be found, but by now there was really no point. Brooke knew that what had happened. So she sat there and wept over her Mother's body.

After what seemed like forever, she heard her father come in, and Brooke knew that the shit was about to hit the fan.

"Courtney! Brooke!" As her father called her and get Mother's name, she began to cry louder knowing what was about to happen, and steeling herself for it.

"Brooke! What the fuck happened!?" Julius yelled as he stormed in the room.

She looked up at him, tears blurring her vision trying, and once again ultimately failing to speak. "I... I... I, uh" Brooke stuttered.

"Move the fuck over!" he yelled pushing the little girl out the way.

The man did the same thing that Brooke did. Check for a pulse, shuttering at her how cold her body was, and finding that there was no pulse. At first the man just sat there, trying to process everything. After a few moments, realizing what had happened started to get really, really, pissed.

"What the fuck did you do?!" and SLAP he hit her across the face. And he kept hitting her, apparently out of a confused, sad, rage. "What the fuck did you do?!" he repeated over and over until it sounded like a broken record. After a while, the man stopped and decided to get a drink to help calm his nerves. It was then and there that Brooke decided that she didn't want to live here anymore if her mom wasn't there. She waited until Julius was completely wasted before she made her move. She stuffed her book bag (which luckily was big) with a few of her favorite things and necessities, grabbed Sparkle, opened the window in her room, climbed down the fire escape, and ran.

AN: Okay, not much happening in this chapter. This is just the prologue that establishes Brooke's tragic childhood. I don't know if it was a little too over the top. If it was, please let me know and I'll make the adjustments.

And PLEASE REVIEW and let me know what you thought. Constructive criticism is welcome. And thanks for reading!