The days passed by slowly.
At least she assumed it had been days, the pitch black had consumed many things, her sanity and sense of time being just a few among many. Lying still on the floor, she kept stroking her hands together mindlessly. It was the least she could do, literally.
Her protesting limbs groaned with soreness, while her eyes remained blinded by her surroundings, to which she still had little clue on exactly where she was. The man that had come had not returned, like he promised.
But he was a thief. Angry at herself, she had let him do this to her. Where had her sense of self worth gone? How could she let a supposed enemy get the best of her?
Her amnesia had faded soon after he left, after she was left alone in the solitary silence of the hole she must have been trapped in. Recollecting, she hadn't a great idea of what happened, just that Slade and Robin had fought, and someone had lost.
The unknown deceased's dying breaths and faint gurgles plagued her, toying with her psyche for she had nothing left to muse about but her past life.
Hunger, dehydration, she had wondered how she had survived this long, especially since the burning had hurt so much.
Wincing at the memory, she snagged her hand away from its twin and rubbed her eyeballs again. It had been up there with her worst episodes of pain, and she was relatively certain it had left her permanently blind in both eyes.
Although she wasn't sentimental about it, things like that were overlooked when your very insides echoed from being so hollow and depraved. At that thought, she poked her stomach and felt the ridges of her ribs, noting that some were more eccentric than others.
That, too, ached, but not as much as the fluid that was probably still making its way out of her sockets. She had screamed and screamed, but no paramedics or heroes came to her rescue, she was alone when her retinas melted.
Black water dribbled down her face as she tried to expunge the virus from her eyes, it dripped from her chin and onto her body. The last image she recalled was that of her fingers being stained with her own corrupted tears- sticky and thick.
The secretion had been just as bad, acid crying from her own body, although she did know how it was possible. Slowly lowering her arm back down to begin the rubbing game again with her gnarled hands, she felt out where the burns used to ooze infection, but now were just crusty scabs.
The icy but softened stone beneath her provided a rough but not completely terrible bed, if she ever slept. She imagined herself to be a complete mess, but really it was unimportant, she would die soon anyway, what did it matter if her corpse looked nice or not?
Although what did start to annoy her was the increased length of her hair. Contrary to belief, it grew rapidly, at an inhuman pace. Almost every day she would snip it back before it could blossom, but now it weeded from her scalp and she felt it sawing against her back.
If there was any justice, someone would provide her with a scissor.
There were many unfortunate things about her predicament, and even worse was that she couldn't think about anything else. Contemplating her lost friendships was much too painful, but analyzing her current state wasn't a sunny option, either.
No, she simply, apathetically waited for another sound to occupy her dumb thoughts.
As if on cue, the creak of incoming footsteps rang all around her. Too weak to sit up or curtsy to her new guest, she remained rubbing her hands together as she lay on her side, engrossed, now, with the diversion.
Excitement began coursing through her; she hadn't expected surprises- how thoughtful.
Hope began to surge as well, but not for freedom, no that was far too implausible, she only wished to be able to talk to the man again, so she could cuss him out rightly before she faded into nothing.
Her wish was granted, and a voice cooed:
"Raven."
Just like before, except this time, she was giddy.
"You came," she squeaked, her voice a high pitched and unsteady monotone- it had been a very long time since she used her throat muscles.
"Of course I did, child."
Squealing with glee, she beamed a ditsy smile.
"What did you do to my eyes?" she questioned in a daze, chafing her palms together more forcefully as the noise became louder.
"I improved them."
Stringing out a song of unsettling giggles, she found the lie amusing.
"I'm blind."
It was his turn to chuckle, to which she frowned malevolently, her fingers stopping their fun; she slammed one of them on the ground.
"It's not funny!" she shrieked.
The adrenaline took a great deal of her energy, and she calmed back down and pried her hands back together to continue the sport.
"You can see, silly girl," he chastised, mocking her. "You just have to open your eyes first."
Confused, she turned over onto her back and placed her arms on her stomach, crossed.
"What do you mean?"
The heavy stomps rippled her body, she loved the way it vibrated on her skin, such a new experience.
"What do you think I mean?" he questioned back, she felt his shoe. "Get up and look around."
The logic remained lost on her.
"I don't understand."
His anger was quick and brutal, the feeling she had enjoyed about his walking now responded evilly with a swift kick to her side, snapping one of the healing ribs again.
"Don't play coy with me, Raven. I won't ask again."
Sputtering out a wheezed cough, she blubbered but obeyed, her body taking over as she rose to her knees. Hands firmly pressed to the ground, she pushed and somehow she was so much higher than she had ever been before.
"What now?" she asked innocently, trying to hold her balance as her knees shook.
Not in the mood for her, he ascended- snatching onto her weak shoulders first, he then grabbed her face in his hands and placed his fingers over and under her eyes. Pulling with ferocity, even though she put up a pathetic flail of her arms, smacking his back as hard as she could, he wrenched her lids open.
Colors were what she saw first. There was white of course, from the lights. But it was a dim one, more diluted orange than a radiant glow. Then, there was him, to which she expected a face to reside, but there was none.
Only a split façade lay before her blurry gaze- half copper and half black. Strangely, the voice attached to the body, which was attached to the weird head, had only one eye- like a Cyclops. Except this one was isolated to the left side of his face.
For a second, she felt pity- he only had one eye.
Moments later, reality sunk in, and the rush of information that had been blocked by ignorance and darkness rushed through her cranium. Although she was in the belly of the beast, the lion's den, the enemy's lair, only overwhelming sadness crippled her.
If Slade had survived, that meant that it was not the madman that had died so tragically upon the rooftop but,
"Robin," she whispered in despair, sagging in the arms of the enemy.
His cold, black eye narrowed.