Dylan was bouncing her leg, sitting on the sofa. Her green blue eyes glaring at the blank television screen. She was bored out of her mind, ready to blow her brains out. She chose to start writing a book of short stories based on the help of the people who died giving her visions. She wrote until her fingers in her right hand started to cramp up.

Her stomach released a growl, forcing a frown on her tan facial features. She set her notebook and pen on the rectangular, glass coffee table. She stood up to head to the kitchen to find Rose had been intently watching her scribble away.

"Uh, Rose?" Dylan stopped on her way to the kitchen to eye the out of the world girl.

"Dylan," Rose addressed in a soft tone that caught the brunette off guard. She shook her head, blinking rapidly at the green eyed female. "What are you working on?"

"Short stories for the ghosts in my head. Where's my idiot brother?" asks Dylan, reaching for a box of fruit loops. Her favorite cereal happened to be fruity. Everybody had their taste, so what?

Rose copied her action, pouring a bowl of cinnamon puffs. She sat opposite the girl who was always in frustration no thanks to her own demons. "Red is out. I'm thinking of breaking it off with him for good."

Dylan sympathized. Her older brother was in love with control. She was aware that if he couldn't control it then he'd fly off the handle. She'd grown up with the abusive asshole.

He was no stranger to laying his hands on a female.

"Is he abusing you? I'll fry that fucker!" Dylan half shouts, watching Rose flinch. She plopped a spoonful of fruit loops mixed into milk in her mouth. She hurriedly chewed so the stuff wouldn't get soggy.

"No, well, I'm not sure. I'm just not interested anymore." Rose spoke up, earning a thoughtful nod.

"I don't blame you. Is it because of another guy?" Dylan eagerly asks, hoping it's who she thought. She mulled over the possibility of her brother possibly brainwashing Rose to do his dirty work. She'd been curious as to where Red's conflict hid since the day he almost dropped Jason from the tower.

Rose paled at the accusation, chewing on her cereal. She gave a nonchalant shrug, "It's Jason."

"Go for it!" Dylan happily encouraged a look of confusion from her. She kept eating her cereal, "I'm not his type, Rose. You are. I'm weak, shy, and introverted."

Rose felt guilt for how Dylan didn't think she was good enough, but she refused to let that show. The girl opposite her was right. She was tougher than most.

"What are you hens gossiping about?" Rachel asked, slinking into the kitchen soon followed by Gar.

The two were as inseparable as a newborn puppy and kitten learning to be best friends.

Dylan pointed her spoon in the direction of Rachel. "Stuff."

Rose was grateful Dylan didn't spill the beans on the actual topic.

"The blood dripped from his butcher knife as a malicious grin took hold of the middle aged male…" Gar read aloud, holding the notebook in his palms that belonged to Dylan. He trailed off, locking gazes with the brunette who flew off the handle.

"What gives you the right to read my shit?!" Dylan bellowed, bolting from her seat. Snatching the notebook from his hands, she slapped the boy across the face. She left without another word to the people in the kitchen.

Gar was stunned.

Rachel smirked, "you shouldn't have gone through her things."

"Agreed. You never mess with a woman." Rose took the box of cereal with her bowl, and scattered.

·····

Dylan sat on a picnic bench with one leg under her. The other hung off the side as her head rested atop her knee.

"Dylan, I heard you slapped Gar today." Dick spoke, approaching her slowly.

"I ain't apologizing. My stuff is for my eyes only. I don't snoop in his crap." Dylan softly spoke, allowing Dick to sit beside her.

"I talked to him about it. You don't have to apologize. Maybe, he'll have learned his lesson so he won't do the same to the others." Dick locked his gaze on her faraway green blue. He was wondering what was going through her mind.

Dylan couldn't help staring off in the distance. The brunette was beyond exhausted- not just her body, but her soul couldn't take many more hits of pain. She needed to get control of her monster so she could rest properly. What kind of hero could she be if she didn't?

"Dick?" Dylan called, tilting her head a little in his direction. Her eyes met the deep brown of his letting her know she'd trust him.

"Yes, Dil?" Dick watched as she struggled to confess to him. He patiently waited for an answer.

"Bruce Wayne is my biological father. I have an older half brother in the world." Dylan let the blow strike the older male.

Dick whispered the name of her half brother without her catching the name.

At the time, she thought nothing of it.

"He's been keeping eyes on you all these years for that reason. Dil, are you okay?" Dick placed a hand on her arm in reassurance. He didn't want her to think she couldn't talk to him especially if she got into trouble.

Dylan saw him as more of a father since coming to know him. She didn't flinch from his touch, allowing somebody to comfort her this go around. She finally acknowledged the fact- he's family.

"I'm slowly coming around to accepting Bruce is my father. He's never been there for me so it does not count. There's more." Dylan felt her breath hitch in her throat at how he may negatively react to her truth.

"What more could there be?" Dick quirked an eyebrow, encouraging her to continue.

"I have an ability that scares me. I see visions of people dying before they die. I can speak to ghosts who often harass me. The deaths I see can be prolonged for months. I also have to bare a unique bond to the person. I can astral project." Dylan spoke in a hurried explanation, scared of his reaction.

Dick processed every thing she just told him. His eyes widened a fraction, "Wait, does this mean you've been seeing somebody die since-"

"-since Jason and I grew to build a slow friendship. He's bound to die. An early death, I might add." Dylan interrupted Dick, struggling to say what she feared most.

Dick averted his gaze to the concrete ground. "Dylan, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." Dylan countered, shooting him a weak smile.

The two sat in silence for a while overlooking the setting sun. They had cooked up a bond that day. It was odd to even recall.