Warnings: language, violence (not too graphic in most parts), attempted rape (doesn't go very far)
PART 1A SIX: Struggling With Life
Elle
Sometimes life challenges you, and sometimes it just struggles against you. Or you struggle against life. Either way, you can't meet the challenges, and life won't give you another way around it. It's like a tug-of-war. You're drowning or sinking or falling and so life throws you a rope. But as soon as you grab the rope, life won't let go. So you both tug on it, trying to get the advantage, but in the end, it's a stalemate.
That's when you have to think about where you are in life. Is this struggle, this challenge that you can't beat, worth it? Should you let go of the rope and try to get out of the problem yourself? It's a hard decision to make, and a lot of people don't know what to do.
Some people hang on to the rope as if it's their only lifeline, as if there is absolutely no other way to go. There's a ledge right next to them or a branch to pull themselves up with, but they're too afraid to let go of whatever life has given them, because what if it's the wrong choice? What if they miss the ledge or the branch breaks?
Others let go before looking for another way out. Or they let go of the rope thinking that there is no other way. They drown or fall to their deaths because they believe they've lost the only chance they've got to live, when in reality, they only stopped looking. They let go of the obvious struggle but never tried to find another way around it.
Very few make the third decision, which is to try to find a way around the struggle. But some do. They pull themselves up with the branch or the ledge, tip their hats to life, and move on until another challenge faces them.
Right now, I honestly don't know where I'm at, or what I'm going to do. I thought that I was part of the minority of the third group. The struggle was that my family was dead and I was stuck in foster care. The branch was the opportunity to get adopted by Bruce Wayne. I thought that I had beat life at its own game.
But now I wonder if I just leapt from one rope to another. Although I I'm not in foster care anymore, I'm not gaining any ground with the Batfamily. I am still a loner and alone. I am still having trouble figuring out what I am supposed to be doing.
So, the question is, should I continue to hang from the rope, or should I search for another way out?
Saturday, June 30
I woke up from a nightmare at four in the morning. I'd only slept for three hours, but there was no way I'd be able to get back to sleep. I forced myself out of bed and quietly started doing sit-ups and push-ups.
I did ten sit-ups every other minute and five push-ups every other minute for an hour. Doing the math, I realized afterwards that I had done 300 sit-ups and 150 push-ups, give or take a few because I collapsed a few times from the pain.
Wanting to keep track of my progress, I created a Word document on my laptop and recorded what I'd done yesterday and today. Then I got dressed and headed downstairs. Alfred was already up, so I let him know where I was going. He handed me a water bottle before I left. Once again, I didn't let myself stop running for anything. And, once again, I nearly collapsed by the time I'd returned to the manor.
I snuck back upstairs and took a shower after recording how long it had taken me to run the course (nearly 40 minutes). I watched a couple of episodes of Batman: The Animated Series, read a couple chapters of my book, then headed downstairs for breakfast.
I watched Bruce, Dick, and Tim interact with each other. I wished that I could be included in their family dynamic, but it just wasn't possible. I was just a burden. Useless. Dick tried to get me to talk, but I only gave one-word answers. And then Dick was dragged into another conversation with Tim and Bruce. When their conversation started getting more serious and their voices started getting quieter, I realized that it was time to leave. Obviously, I wasn't really a part of their family if I couldn't know anything about their night job.
I picked up my plate and brought it over to the sink. Alfred stopped me from helping and basically kicked me out of the kitchen. I returned to my room, wishing that I had something to do. I was just bumming off of them, really. I wanted to help. But they wouldn't let me.
I thought long and hard about it all day. In the end, I dressed in the only clothes that were truly mine, scribbled a note on a scrap piece of paper that said I was leaving, and snuck out when the Batfamily was out. I left everything behind, including my laptop and cell phone. Those weren't truly mine, anyway. They were just expensive gifts given to me by a man with too much money on his hands.
It was one in the morning in Gotham. Only ten minutes into walking around the city did I realize that I really hadn't thought things through enough. Where was I supposed to go? How was I going to survive? I had no money and I was far from a street kid.
I didn't pay attention to where I was going. I just wanted to get as far away from Wayne Manor as I could. Although, really, I should have known better than to try to get away from the Bats. They patrolled all over the city, right? So they could probably find me if they wanted to. And it wasn't like I was all that great at hiding. The question was, would they want to find me?
I was so into my thoughts that I never noticed anyone come up behind me. I did notice, though, when I was pushed into an alley. I fell to the ground. I wanted to cry or scream, but I was already enough of a coward. I didn't want to add anything else to the list of reasons I shouldn't be with the Batfamily.
I looked up. Four men surrounded me. That's all I really noticed because one of them had a gun pointed at me. And I didn't feel like observing my attackers when there was a bullet waiting to be shot at my head.
"W-what do you want?" I tried to sound braver than I was. In reality, my heart was beating so fast I was surprised it didn't explode out of my chest.
"We want your money," one of the guys said.
"I don't have any," I told them. I kept my eye on the gun. If it wasn't for that, I'd make a run for it.
"Turn out your pockets," another guy ordered. I carefully rose to my feet and did what they asked. Empty, as I'd said.
"Well, a little girl lost on her own and with no money," the guy with the gun said. The other guys chuckled. I suddenly didn't like where this was going. "What do you think we can do with you?"
"I can think of a few things," the first guy said. The fourth guy reached for my shirt. I tugged away from him. I lifted my arm up to try to punch his nose, but he caught my wrist. He used his body to shove me against the side of the alley. He grabbed my other wrist and held them both above my head.
"Let go!" I yelled, scared. This had been such a bad idea.
The guy with the gun traced the side of my body with the weapon. My entire body shook but I didn't say anything else, lest he decided to shoot me. I started crying.
"Please," I begged. "Please, don't."
I tried to maneuver out of the man's grip or to kick him in the crotch, but the gun was suddenly on my cheek. I closed my eyes and let out a sob.
"Another word, bitch," the man growled.
"Now is that any way to treat a lady?" I heard. I opened my eyes. There, with two guns in his hands, was Jason. The Red Hood. I let out another sob, this one of relief.
"Shit! It's the Red Hood!" the first man who had spoken shouted. He tried to run off. Jason pulled the trigger. The man fell to the ground, bleeding from a wound in his head.
"Anyone else?" Jason asked, almost lazily, but I could hear a trace of anger in his voice.
I quirked a small smile. "You'd better do as he says," I said, suddenly a bit more confident now that I knew Jason was there. No way would he let these guys go. I hoped.
The man with the gun aimed his gun shakily at the Red Hood, who knocked the gun aside and knocked him out with a kick. The second and fourth guys tried to tackle Jason. The second was shot twice in the stomach. The fourth was hit in the head and kicked in the crotch. He went down with a pained cry.
Jason pulled him up roughly by his collar. "You like forcing your dick into people's asses?" he asked. He punched him into the wall and kicked in the side. "Let me take care of that for you." Jason shot the man's crotch. The man screamed in pain. It was actually morbidly fascinating to see my almost-rapist crying like a baby.
That's when I noticed the man with the gun – who had regained consciousness – creeping up behind the Red Hood. "Jason!" I warned. Instead of helping Jason, I only caused him to look at me with what I assumed a shocked expression. He lowered his guns a fraction, giving the man the opportunity to tackle Jason from behind.
Jason and the man punched and kicked each other. I couldn't tell exactly what was happening – it was all moving so fast. Plus, I was probably in shock. All I knew was that Jason had somehow lost his guns and he and the man were fighting on the ground. Without thinking, I grabbed one of the fallen guns and pointed it at the pair.
"Stop it!" I yelled. They didn't listen. My hands shook. "I said, stop!"
They both noticed that I had the gun. They just stared at me.
"Sweetheart, I can handle myself," Red Hood said rudely.
I pointed my gun at my attacker. "Get away from him." I ignored the slight wavering in my voice. "Now!" The man did so, raising his hands up, a small smirk on his face. I tried to steady my hand. My heart was racing, but in a good way. I liked this. I liked that I finally had control.
"Kid –" Jason said cautiously.
"Give one reason why I shouldn't shoot you," I told the attacker. He smirked. "One damn good reason." I liked this. Maybe a bit too much. But it was better than being a coward. Than being shy and sweet and nice all the time.
"You ain't gonna shoot me," the man chuckled.
My grip on the gun tightened. He was so sure I wouldn't. I wanted to prove him wrong. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it, too. That I could do something that I knew Bruce and Dick and Tim would never be able to do. That I could do one thing better than them. That I wasn't useless and worthless, because if I did this, I might save some other defenseless person from him.
"But I will," Jason said. That's when I realized that he'd taken another one of the fallen guns and was now standing behind the man. Within seconds, the man was dead.
I was still angry. I still liked the feeling of control. I still wanted someone to scare, because then I wouldn't be the one scared. I turned and pointed the gun at the sobbing man on the ground.
Jason shot the man dead before I could. But I continued to hold the gun up. Jason, the Red Hood, walked over to me.
"What the hell did you think you were doing, kid?" Jason demanded. I slowly lowered the gun and wiped my tears with my other hand.
"I just wanted to help," I said meekly, my anger and need for control suddenly vanishing. Besides, I knew better than to piss off the Red Hood.
"Well, stop trying and go home." Jason grabbed the gun from me, put the safety on, and put it into his holster. He turned and started walking away. A few steps away, he turned back. "On second thought, you can tell me how the hell you know my name."
I was going to tell him I was a fan, but then decided with the probably-just-as-bad option. "Bruce is going to adopt me." Or he was until I ran off. Guilt and regret flooded my being. He'd probably give me away now. Or maybe not even try to find me.
Jason sighed in frustration. "You're that kid. Bella or whatever. Fan-fucking-tastic."
I pursed my lips. "Elle."
"Elle. Whatever." Jason crossed his arms. "Look, kid, you're in way over your head. Go back to Bruce or whatever."
He started to leave again. I ran to catch up with him. Jason halted.
"What are you doing?" he demanded.
"Coming with you," I said. "I ran away. Bad idea, I know, but can I stay at your place? Just for tonight?" I blushed at how forward I was being. I fiddled with my hands nervously. I hoped I didn't anger him.
"I'm no one's babysitter," Jason said.
"Never said I needed one," I countered, talking without thinking again. Jason started walking again. I followed. This time, he didn't say anything.
Jason led me to his dingy apartment. As he took off his helmet, I observed the mess. I ignored the smell. It was better than the streets.
"So, if Bruce is adopting you, why'd you run off?" Jason asked suddenly. I guess he was more curious than he'd let on. Or maybe he was a bit jealous. Angry. Whatever. I knew that he didn't like how Tim replaced him as Robin, so what if he hated me because I was being adopted?
Realizing I hadn't answered yet, I shrugged. "No reason." He didn't need to know. It wasn't any of his business. Besides, I didn't want this conversation to get back to Bruce or something. Hey, anything could happen.
Jason raised an eyebrow in disbelief. He leaned against the wall. "There's gotta be a reason, kid."
"Why do you care?" I half-snapped, half tried to shrug it off lightly. I wasn't going to talk about it, and that was that.
Jason was silent for a few minutes. I stood awkwardly, wanted to sit on the couch, but I didn't want to do anything wrong. I didn't like being in other people's houses. Different people have different rules. I didn't want to mess up. Especially not with 'shoot-first-ask-questions-never' Jason.
"Why is he adopting you, anyway?" Jason asked. I shrugged. "Something happen to the Replacement that he needs a new Robin?"
I rolled my eyes. "Tim's fine and I doubt I'll ever be Robin." I said the last bit a little too bitterly to be normal, but I didn't care. It wasn't that I wanted to be Robin. It was more the fact that I would never be a part of the Batfamily. Not for real. They wouldn't let me become part of their night job.
"So why is he adopting you?"
"Because Bruce likes orphans." I said without thinking. I stiffened and glanced over at Jason. Instead of being angry, though, he smirked.
"Don't I know it."
I grinned. Jason really wasn't that bad, if you ignored the killing and the temper. Surprisingly, I could handle the killing. And Jason didn't seem to mind my being there. Unless he was getting better at hiding his feelings.
As the silence that followed dragged on, I tugged at my shirt awkwardly. Doing so pulled down the top of my shirt a little bit so that my Batman necklace could be seen. Jason's eyes shot to it.
"You're a fan?" he snorted, rolling his eyes. "Great."
I bit my lip. "Sorry."
Jason crossed his arms. "Since when does Bruce adopt fans?"
"No clue," I shrugged apologetically.
Jason frowned as he stared at me. "Wait. If you're a fan, then you know all about me."
I shrugged again. "I guess." What did he want me to say?
"Then don't say anything about my methods of controlling crime," Jason scowled.
"Wasn't planning on it," I admitted. I shuffled my feet a bit. "I kind of agree with it, to be honest."
Surprise flickered across Jason's face for a split second before he hid it. "Well that's something I thought I'd never hear a Bat say."
"I'm not a Bat," I said automatically, looking away.
Jason started moving to what I assumed was his room.
"Couch is yours. Leave whenever. Don't tell Bruce where I live." He disappeared into his room and closed the door, leaving me alone.
"Thanks," I muttered to myself. I settled myself on the couch and tried to get some sleep.
Sunday, July 1
I woke up crying in the late morning. I quickly wiped my tears away and tried to calm down. I didn't want Jason to see me and think I was weak. It turned out that I didn't have to worry about Jason. I found a note on my stomach:
Eat whatever you find, just don't eat it all.
Leave whenever you want (preferably before I get back).
-J
I found myself smiling at the note. That was just so … Jason. I went over to the fridge and ate a piece of leftover pepperoni pizza. I didn't know how long it had been in there, but I didn't care. And I tried not to think about it. I drank a glass of water, cleaned out the glass. I liked having something to do.
It was 10:30 and I didn't want to go back to the manor yet, which I knew I really didn't have a choice about. I couldn't survive on my own, and honestly, I didn't think I wanted to. But at the manor, I had nothing to do. Not to mention, I would be in a lot of trouble. I looked around Jason's apartment. I'd clean up some of it, at least enough to waste another hour.
I cleaned up the trash and did the pile of dishes in the sink. I stayed out of Jason's bedroom and the bathroom. It wasn't perfect, but it was certainly a little bit cleaner than it had been. And then I was faced with another problem: how to get back to the manor.
I would walk back but I didn't know my way through Gotham, not to mention, it was dangerous. I could call the manor and have Alfred pick me up, but I hadn't bothered to memorize any of the phone numbers on my contact list. And I doubt Jason owned a phone book. I had no money to spend on a bus or taxi. I sat on the couch. I'd have to wait for Jason to get back.
He finally returned at 1:45. I glanced around the cleaner apartment before raising an eyebrow at me.
"Didn't I say you should be gone before I got back?"
I blushed and looked down. "I, uh, don't know how to get back to the manor," I said quietly. "And I don't have any money."
Jason sighed. "Come on, kid."
I followed him outside, where he got onto a motorcycle. I stood beside it, unsure. I'd always wanted to ride a motorcycle – more like drive one – but Jason already seemed mad.
"Well? You just gonna stand there?" Jason snapped. He handed me his only helmet. I put it on and climbed up behind him.
I held onto Jason for dear life, but I was smiling. It was fun and Jason didn't care about traffic rules. We sped through Gotham's streets until he came to a stop. I recognized the library and figured that I could get back to the manor on my own. After all, not only had Alfred driven me there, but Tim had also walked with me to the library my first day.
"This good enough?" Jason asked. "Because there is no way I'm going all the way to the manor."
I nodded and got off the motorcycle. I handed him his helmet back. "Thank you so much," I told him.
Jason put on the helmet and nodded once. "Don't mention it, kid." He sped away.
As I walked closer and closer to Wayne Manor, my good mood and confidence wavered. What would everyone say? What if they didn't care? What if they were furious? But I knew that I had to go back. Taking a deep breath, I entered the manor.
Alfred was the first person to see me. "Oh, my word," he said exclaimed softly. He looked at me sternly. "Where have you been, Miss Elle? You had everyone worried."
I looked down at my feet. "Sorry." I wouldn't cry. I wouldn't.
"I'll go inform the others," Alfred said. He walked off.
A few minutes later, Dick appeared out of nowhere and crushed me in a tight hug. When he pulled away, he grabbed my shoulders and glared at me. I winced.
"Where the hell have you been?" Dick demanded. I tried to look away but Dick wouldn't let me. "No. We get back and you're gone to who-knows-where and –"
"You could've been killed," Bruce said. I jumped, not noticing his presence until that moment. I saw that Tim was there, as well as Alfred. None of them looked too pleased.
"I'm sorry," I whispered pathetically.
"You're sorry?" Dick exclaimed, finally let go of my shoulders. "You ran off for no reason, scaring us all to death, and all you can say is sorry?" I must have really worried them if Dick was this angry. And I thought I had to be cautious with Jason.
"Dick, that's enough," Bruce interrupted. Dick brushed a hand through his hair and backed away a few steps, probably to try to calm down.
"We couldn't find you," Tim told me. "We thought someone had kidnapped you."
I looked at him strangely. "Why would someone kidnap me?"
"Everyone knows Bruce is adopting you," Tim answered. He spoke as if I was stupid and that I should know this already. "Crazy people will do crazy things for money."
"Well, I'm back now, so it's fine," I tried to leave the room. Bruce stood in my way. "Can I leave?"
"Not until you tell us why you ran away," Bruce said. He was struggling between being a concerned parent and being an angry Batman. I could tell. He stood awkwardly in front of me, staring at me, waiting for my answer.
"Does it matter?" I asked, half-laughing, hoping to shake off the question. No one had to know. And I wouldn't cry. Just another minute and I'll be in my room, and then I can lock the door and I can cry. But not now when everyone could see me.
"Of course it matters!" Tim exclaimed, surprised. I didn't say anything.
"Tell us why you felt like you had to run away," Dick said, much more gently than he had spoken to me before. He had calmed down considerably. "Is it something we did? Something we said? Tell us so we can make it better."
To my horror, I let out a sob. I curled my arms around myself as I felt tears fall down my face. Dick reached out to give me a hug, but I twisted away from him, ignoring the hurt on his face.
"Elle?" Bruce prompted.
"I feel like a burden," I blurted. And once it started, I couldn't stop it. "I don't belong here. You guys are amazing and I'm just … not. I'm useless and stupid and I couldn't keep up with you when you were on your run and-and I just don't belong here."
"Oh, Ellie," Dick pulled me into a hug. This time, I collapsed into it, sobbing pitifully into his shirt. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
"I don't belong here," I repeated, my voice muffled. "I don't belong anywhere. I wish I'd died with my family in that stupid fire."
"You don't mean that," Tim said, although it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. I pulled away a bit from Dick so that I could face the rest of the Batfamily, including Alfred, who just nodded encouragement to me to speak.
"I miss my mom," I sobbed. "I miss her peanut butter chocolate chip cookies and how she used to sing me to sleep when I was little. I even miss her and my dad arguing. I miss my dad playing hide and seek with me when my brother wouldn't. And I miss my brother helping me fall asleep when I had a nightmare. I miss everything. I even miss how things were right before they died, when no one really noticed me and I was alone but they still loved me and-and I just want them back."
No one said anything. Dick held me close to him, letting me cry. Alfred left the room. Tim awkwardly rubbed my back. Bruce stood there, taking in the scene. I realized that this was the first time I'd ever really cried about my family's death. I'd cried to myself for a week after it had happened, but I'd never talked to anyone about it. I'd never really admitted to myself, even, that I felt that way. It felt good to finally let it out.
"I'm sorry," I said as I slowly began to calm down. "I didn't mean to –"
"Crying is a good thing," Dick told me.
I shrugged, pulling out of the hug and wiping at my eyes. "Still."
"Why do you feel like a burden?" Tim asked, concerned.
"I don't do anything," I said quietly. "And I don't belong here."
"But you can belong here," Tim countered softly.
"We just want to make you comfortable," Bruce spoke up. "We – I didn't know you felt that way."
"You guys want me to be your family but I feel like a stranger!" I snapped.
"Then why didn't you just talk to us?" Tim asked.
"Because I'm shy, and insecure, and I feel like I'm the outsider," I admitted, pushing back more tears. "I'm always alone –"
"Then come find me," Tim said.
"– you don't know anything about me –"
"So tell us," Bruce said.
"– I don't know anything about what you guys do at your night job –"
"To protect you," Bruce said.
"– I want to do something so I'm not useless –"
"You're not useless," Dick said firmly.
"– and I just don't belong here!"
"I understand that this is hard on you," Bruce said, "but it's hard for us, too. We don't know what you need or what you like. We don't know what you are and aren't comfortable with."
"What do you want us to do?" Dick asked me.
I shrugged. "I dunno. I really don't. I'm just tired of always being left out."
"We'll change that," Dick promised.
"But for now, you're grounded," Bruce said sternly. I stared at him, confused by the sudden change in subject.
"Huh?"
"You ran off and worried us all," Bruce told me. "You're grounded for a week. That means no electronics allowed and you can't leave the manor."
I blinked. "Okay." I was strangely okay with being grounded. It meant that he cared. It meant that he still wanted me around.
"Go get your phone and laptop and bring them to Alfred," Bruce ordered.
"I promise I won't use them," I said honestly. "Do I have to?"
"Now," Bruce said – more like growled. I winced and hurried to do so.
As I handed them over to Alfred to put who-knows-where, I told him, "Please don't let anyone hack my laptop."
"I didn't plan on it," Alfred replied. I turned to go up to my room so I could read. I was drained from all the crying. "Miss Elle?" Alfred called to me. I looked at him, confused. "Tomorrow, I want you up bright and early to help me make breakfast."
I smiled. "Sure thing, Alfred," I said. "Just wake me up when you want me."
"I intended to do so, anyway," Alfred said. I swore I saw a small smile on his face as he took my electronics away, but I couldn't be sure.
I headed to my room and sat at the window, staring out at the property of Wayne Manor. It was still big, and I was still small and alone, but I didn't feel as lonely after talking to Bruce, Dick, and Tim. Maybe things would start to get better.