I can imagine you're still freaked out from the last chapter. Just wait.

So, some of you might be confused because you were probably notified last night that I had put up two more chapters that are no longer here... or, you might have even read those two unfortunate chapters. At 1:30am and desperately needing sleep, I was pleased because I thought I had presented a good, warm-hearted ending to this tale. I got up today, re-read it, and thought, "No. Frikking. Way."- it was so lame, and I was clearly taking the easy way out. So, here is a different (better) take.


Darkness

"Pulled into the darkness by invisible illusions, the world is blinded by the depth of dreams; wasting away the hours in the cradle of insanity."


His entire world slipped away from him.

He didn't dream, all consciousness consumed by a void of darkness.

His body felt unbearably sluggish. Every time he began to wake up, he fell back into the darkness.

He knew, deep down, that his doctors had finally sent him to Arkham.

Arkham.

He could recall sending criminals there when he worked with Batman... their clear, violent insanity would never do in prison.

Every so often, he felt the sensation of someone spoon feeding him some kind of mushy food and giving him water from a ladle.

His body was tense and tight. The bed he was on felt like a wooden board, and his wrists and ankles were tightly restrained to it in all its discomfort.

After the incident at the hospital, he had no idea what had happened or what actions had been taken.

All he knew was the pain, regret, sadness, and shame he felt.

He knew in his mind that what he had done was terrible, murderous even. Unforgivable.

He knew he deserved to be locked up forever. Too dangerous for people, too dangerous for himself.

In all the time of his mental sickness, he had never wanted so much for death to finally take him away to the darkest depths of the world.


As the days went by, Robin finally began to understand his surroundings.

Indeed, he was in Arkham.

He was in a solitary confinement cell, in Arkham. No visitors, no windows, no lights, constant restraints and constant sedation.

He had a doctor, but the doctor clearly didn't care about making him better, at least mentally. The doctor's only purpose was to make sure that Robin wasn't physically ill.

Not sick, just a psychopath.

Every hopeful feeling he had ever retained in the old hospital was replaced by a feeling of hate, betrayal, and anger.

He gave up on everything he had ever known, everything that he loved and cherished. His parents, Batman, Alfred, the Titans...

They were all delusions.

He didn't want to suffer the pain of this harsh reality any longer.

He knew he would die in this terrible place, and he only wished for the time to come faster.


His eyes snapped open.

Despite the silence and complete darkness in the room, he felt strangely afraid. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Suddenly, he heard a noise. A thud, just outside his door.

He barely breathed, his body trembling with fear.

The door swung open.

The strong light from the hallway hit his eyes like hot pokers. He screamed, his temples aching terribly.

A dark, ominous figure slowly moved into the room.

"Someone... please, please help me..." Robin moaned, hoping an attendant would save him from whatever was here to hurt him.

Then suddenly, a voice clearly spoke to him.

"Hello, Dick."

That voice.

He knew that voice.

Robin, knowing but not completely believing who it was, squinted up at the figure to see a tall, muscular, caped man covered in black.

"Bruce...?" Robin croaked.


Author's Note:

Holy good timing, Batman! Please review!