Blood of the Skull

by Savy160

Do you want to talk about it? Jason, please talk to me. What happened? That's one thing Jason refuses to address: his past. But when an old enemy returns and threatens a certain Baby Bird; he has no choice, but to confront the past. WARNING: This story contains abuse, suggestive themes, self-harm, suggested rape, violence, and language (mainly from Jason). Not Slash. Completed

8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Jason's POV

My head is pounding. I'm having trouble breathing. What happened? I open my eyes and sit up slowly.

I'm sitting on the old moldy carpet and rotten floorboards of my foster home. Wallpaper is peeling off of the walls. The horrible stench of meth cooking in the basement fills the entire house. The windows are barred to keep the prisoners in. The furniture is old and outdated. Mary Gunn is lying on the couch, shoving a needle into her arm.

I look away in disgust from the bitch. She had flaming red hair, crooked brown teeth, bony hands, late 50's, talons for nails. One of her foster children has 'disappeared.' That's why I was sent to this hellhole; she has an opening.

Her newest 'husband' Percy comes down the stairs. He yells at her to get off the couch and get ready for the newest brat. She doesn't like the way he talks to her. But it's okay he'll soon be her twelfth husband that will 'disappear.'

The door is opened to reveal one of Gotham's finest crooked cops latched onto the arm of a scrawny, shabbily dressed, seven year old raven haired boy with deep blue eyes. Percy slips the cop an envelope while Mary takes the child from him and drags him inside.

The boy is shoved up against the wall. She tells him how everything is going to be from now on. He is to be her slave. He will steal for her. Or else. Out of fear the child agrees to her demands.

A tall muscular sixteen year old appears at the top of the stairs and smiles darkly at the child. Roger, Mary's biological child. He retrieves the child from his mother and drags him up the stairs and into his bedroom for the initiation. Seven other boys of various ages surround the old bed. Six of them smile darkly at the newcomer, their newest 'brother' or victim. The boy closest to the door is a ten year old, brunette with dark brown, almost black eyes. He bites his lip in hesitation at the sight of the newcomer and refuses to meet the younger's eyes.

I watch helplessly as my seven year old self is tossed onto the bed. I watch helplessly as the boy is held down by a couple of teenagers. One of them mercilessly covers the boy's mouth; they have neighbors after all and disturbing them would be rude. Roger approaches the child with a metal ring with the symbol of a skull embedded into the band and a cigarette lighter.

The skull symbol is burned onto his right wrist. I wince at the memory of him searing my flesh, branding me with the mark of death. Rolling up my sleeve, I trace the pattern of where the damned symbol once resided. It's gone now; it disappeared when my flesh regrew from a dip in the Lazarus Pit. But the mark will never fade from my mind.

I resume watching the ceremony. A cigarette is shoved into the child's mouth. Addiction is a hard thing to get over. I don't want to watch it anymore. I can't. I've already lived it once. Once is enough. I turn away and run the room; trying to escape hearing his muffled cries of pain.

I stop abruptly when the ten year old, brunette with dark brown, almost black eyes reaches out to my younger self. He tells the younger boy to stop crying, the pain won't last much longer; crying is a weakness. People feed off of weakness. Survivors are not weak.

Introductions are swapped between the two boys. The brunette says his name is Alec. The two boys will become brothers. They will protect each other, look after each other, share, and steal together.

I run down the stairs, not wanting to watch the reunion. It's too painful. He's downstairs. I come face to face with my younger self. I'm nine years old now. I watch as Mary brings her hand across the boy's face. He didn't bring in enough profit for the day. He must be punished. Roger eagerly asks to punish the child. She willingly hands the boy over.

I follow as the boy is dragged up the stairs and into Roger's room. Alec is upstairs; an expression of sorrow is on the thirteen year old's face as he sees how scared the little boy is.

I leave Alec in the hallway as I pass through the door into Roger's room. I watch helplessly as my younger self is thrown onto the bed. Large hands wrap around the child's neck. The door is suddenly thrown open by Alec.

I watch as Roger turns around, only to have a knife driven into his jugular. One monster is dead, yet another is created. Alec yanks the boy off of the bed and together they run from the house. They hide from the police. They run from everyone. They run from each other. Soon, they will be separated; only to see each other again one more time. For, I will take his life at our reunion.

I fall into darkness. Opening my eyes, I find that I am lying on the bloodstained floor. The twelve bodies of the innocent homeless men and women surround me. I sit up slowly and find that I am covered in blood. None of it my own. Glancing at my watch, written in blood, I find the word 'tires' on my hand. I shakily rise from the floor. I don't want to continue. I'm tired of playing this game. I know what comes next; living on the streets, my reunion, and more abuse. But, the most hurtful memories haven't come yet. I have to become Robin. I have to die. I have to come back. I have to continue my journey into the past.