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yukiyee-akian · 22 days ago

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[UN]Fail — Prologue: Use ful less Child.

⸺ SIPNOSIS ⦂ In your attempt to help your mom, everything goes as wrong as it possibly can.

✿⁠ ⸺ Platonic! Yandere! Batfam × Neglenced! Meta! Reader.

✿⁠ ⸺ Chapters Guide! ; Prologue ;

✿⁠ ⸺ Next!

⸺ WARNINGS ⦂ GN Reader ; English is not my first language ; Use of Y/N ; Neglect ; Violence ; Dark Content ; Torture ; Death ; Explicit Content ; Altered Reality Perception ; Gore (?) ; Ivy is a terrible mother.

✿⁠ ⸺ MDNI !! I'm serious.

✿⁠ ⸺ Words ⦂ 6.429.

✿⁠ ⸺ N/A ⦂ This chapter was mainly translated by Google Translate, so if something doesn’t make sense, you know who to blame.

When you were little, you used to talk a lot to the plants whenever you could. This habit mainly started because you wanted to imitate your mom, believing that by doing this, maybe, just maybe, you would earn some points, and she would start talking to you with the same sweetness and love she gave to your siblings.

You never complained about this; your siblings lived shorter lives than you, so naturally, your mom was going to pay more attention to them than to you. You just waited your turn, something you realized too late wasn’t going to happen.

The habit that started to please your mom ended up genuinely liking you. You'd share your random thoughts with the carnations, swinging the vines back and forth like Tarzan or sometimes using them as swings. The huge leaves of the unusually large ficus, along with the strong vines, teamed up to create an improvised cradle just for you, inviting you to climb in and rock yourself to sleep, trying to ignore the screams that seemed to come from the next room. You didn’t worry too much because you knew those weren’t your mom’s or your sister’s screams; it was actually them making the noise.

Your mom would be way too busy dealing with work to make a crib like this, especially for you, so that tiny part inside you that started to accept that your mom didn’t have any special preference for you is the one that began to understand why she cared so much for them.

You started to realize how these beings had their own actions, like tucking you in, their own lives—lives just as valuable as yours. From your mom's perspective, their lives were even more valuable than yours.

Little by little, you started to accept that your mom would never have time for you; she needed space to keep working on her big project (which, by the way, you were proud to say you were a part of!). So, gradually, you began to pull away from her skirts and replaced the silent chasing after your mom with interactions with your siblings.

You used to fight mindlessly with the cacti, just because they poked you when you tried to show them affection. But then you’d forgive them, telling yourself it wasn’t intentional—they couldn’t change what they were. So as quickly as your anger came, it would fade away. You started asking the wise, old trees questions when you climbed their branches. You began to chat aimlessly while feeding the sunflowers.

You didn’t like chatting with the red roses, but when you felt sentimental, you’d whisper your confessions to them about how you envied them for sharing the same colors as your mom. Sometimes you’d grab a strand of your hair and compare it to the almost fantastical reddish hue of your mom’s hair��nothing like your own color—or how your skin tone had nothing to do with her healthy, greenish hue.

More than once, you whispered your doubts about your appearance to the ficus, wondering where those features had come from. You confessed how you felt different from him and the others, knowing he resembled your mom more than you probably ever would.

Oh, but she loved you (not quite the same way she loved the others, of course), but you were sure she did!

She would pat you on the head when she saw how you took care of and watered your siblings, or she’d tell you what a great job you were doing when you helped her with her big project!

When you brought up your concerns about your appearance and where it came from to your mom, how you felt different, she would just dismiss it with a wave of her hand, telling you that you were the prettiest girl she had ever seen. She’d give you a kiss on your chubby little cheeks, and then there would follow a long silence, ending the conversation. You took that as your cue to leave the room and let your mom continue her activities, but after a few hours, the question would come back to your mind like a nagging itch.

But it wasn’t just that you didn’t look like your siblings; you realized you had different needs and care than they did.

For example, your way of being fed. Your siblings only needed a bit of water at their roots and sunlight to grow healthy. But a few times a week, your mom would lock you and your siblings in an old, dark room when it was time for you to eat. The first time this happened, you asked your mom about it.

“Uhm… Mommy?”

“Hm? What’s up?” She stopped looking around the room to look at you.

“I… I’m a little plant, right?” You started fiddling with the hem of your loose clothing.

Your mom rolled her eyes. “What else would you be, silly?”

“So, I’m not supposed to need light to grow?” You were really confused.

“But you’re not that kind of plant, sweetheart; you grow in the dark.”

Your mom closed the topic right there while leaving you locked in that dark room, all alone.

You couldn’t understand how this was good for you, but you weren’t going to go against your mom; after all, she knows what’s best for you. You shrugged off her actions, downplaying them.

You rummaged through the old basement for something to entertain yourself with until you found some pretty old newspapers and magazines, already dusty from the passage of time.

You didn’t know how to read, so you just looked at the pictures inside. On most of the covers, there was an image of a man dressed as a bat alongside a very colorful child. One of them caught your attention: in the photo, the two were on a very high platform, receiving something that looked like an award—a key?—while everyone around them seemed to be congratulating them.

They must have done something really good, you thought. Your mom only congratulated you when you were useful or when you had done something 'good,' so seeing so many people crowding around them just to congratulate them gave you a sense of what they had accomplished. Their parents must be proud of them.

Soon, as you flipped through other covers and photos, you realized these people performed similar acts. Like capturing people who looked bad or dangerous.

You didn’t know what to call those people; your mom had forbidden you from going outside, and if visitors came to her home, she made sure to hide you from them, putting your siblings as guards at the doors.

Your knowledge of the world outside your home was almost nonexistent; the little you knew came from what your mom would rant about into the void when she was upset, but even then, she didn’t give you much to speculate on.

So you just referred to them as the 'nice guys.' Whenever your mom locked you in the basement, you would spend hours looking at and relooking at the photos of these figures, asking yourself questions about them and about the outside world.

Your enthusiasm only grew when your mom returned from one of her trips to the outside world and brought you a plush toy of the colorful boy. But unlike how you had seen him in the photos, he had a mostly red suit, and the toy was a bit dirty, but you didn’t mind.

You thanked your mom many times for the gift and happily showed it to all your siblings. When you finished, your mom called you into the main room, where your sister was resting. She wasn’t the oldest; in fact, you were older than her, having helped your mom create her, but she was definitely the biggest of all of you, and that was saying something since she was just a newborn!

Your sister didn’t have a name yet; your mom was still thinking of one, but she paid more attention to her than to all your other sisters or even to you. She was definitely her favorite, which is why you never approached her to talk.

This was the project your mom was investing all her time in.

"What’s happening, Mommy?" you happily settled next to your mom. "Did you have a good trip?"

"Uhm? Oh, yes, sweetie, it went well. It was just sooo boring because I couldn’t be with you." Your mom picked you up and rocked you close to her chest. Your heart soared with joy.

"When will I be able to go out with you?" you said, part question, part complaint.

"Very soon, sweetheart. If you help Mommy do her job well, you and I will soon be free to go wherever we want." she promised.

Your eyes lit up, and the excitement of finally seeing the outside world with your mom was enough to make you wish to do whatever it took to make that happen.

"How can I help?" you asked excitedly. Your mom seemed to smile at this.

"Well… When your sister opens her petals, some people will likely come to stop her. What you need to do is distract them—just enough, sweetheart, so your sister can open her beautiful petals." Your mom pressed her forehead against yours and looked you in the eyes. "If you can do that, no one will be able to hurt the plants or us. And we’ll stay together, forever."

"But why would anyone want to stop your project? You’ve worked so hard on it!"

Your mom let out a chuckle.

"Because there will be people who want to hinder your path to greatness, or simply won’t tolerate you doing good." You processed her words and then nodded, understanding what she meant.

"In a couple of days, people will understand what it’s like to be in our shoes."

The next day, you showed your new friend your home, introducing him to your siblings, while your mom gave an exasperated gesture when you presented her.

You explained the rules of the house: what could and couldn’t be done.

Like not going outside, no matter how curious you were! Or being careful when playing, as he might accidentally hurt some of your siblings, and your mom would lock him in the well for days as punishment. You emphasized this last part, making sure he followed your advice, and then you showed him how you and your sisters were fed.

You talked, swung, and played. In your eyes, your new friend was a great companion, a good listener.

Even if he didn’t answer your questions either, you were okay with that; after all, your siblings didn’t respond to you either, so…

Anyway! Your friend helped you look for new magazines or newspapers to have fun together. Your collection of the cool guys was large, but you had seen those photos so many times that you could probably draw an identical one from memory, you know.

Rummaging through old shelves, you found some ancient photos and recognized one of the figures as the former owner of this residence.

A flash of memory hit you, reminding you of that day.

You were glad you had been even smaller at that time because if not, those vivid memories would still haunt you to this day.

The body of that now-aged man, with limbs positioned in such a way that even at your age, you could tell it was unnatural. Where the man’s eyes should have been, there were only two holes of blackened flesh. His nails were no longer where they should be, revealing beneath them the living flesh and blood that bathed his already wrinkled and bony fingers, like the fragile tips of a tree's branches.

His clothes were almost in tatters, and beneath them were large, fresh wounds inflicted by your mother and sisters, revealing layer upon layer of skin and then muscle. Your mother didn’t hesitate to sprinkle white powder on those wounds if the man didn’t respond properly.

The body of that man was so battered and fragile that you felt even your slightest touch could break him in two. His body was worn and bony; you didn’t know a human body could be so delicate until you saw him.

Even from your distant position, you could hear the cracking of his legs and the sharp screams of that old man. You realized how he almost had no strength left to do it, his throat was already torn and you were sure that the blood coming out of his mouth was not something that had to happen.

The initial intensity of that man's screams was reignited when your older brother, one of the oldest trees that had been with your mother and who could now grow limbs resembling those of a human and move like one, extended his wooden fingers into large claws and began to thrust them into the man's bony face.

Your small body trembled, and you covered your eyes as quickly as you could.

Finally, when your mother said he was no longer of any use to her, they threw him to the ground. A part of you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, naively believing that it was all over and they would leave him there.

How silly.

Your eyes widened, and your body froze. You could feel your temperature drop to alarming levels as your brother pressed the man's head with his sturdy foot, continuing to play with the intensity of his stomp until finally…

Pop!

You couldn’t keep your gaze on the scene for long before you vomited the contents of your stomach onto the pavement. Luckily for your taste buds, your diet consisted of water and sunlight, so there really wasn’t much to throw up.

When you finished, you became aware of the judging look your mother was sending you, while behind her, your brother dragged the body decapitated of the old man, leaving behind a trail of blood, fluids and some unknown pink mass…

You called that place the well, and it was where your mom sent you when you misbehaved.

You liked to think you were well-behaved because you were a good girl, not because you were afraid your mom would do the same to you or throw you back to the worms that devoured the man in the well.

To a normal human, you knew this fact wasn't that frightening, but for you, with your physiology being partly plant… well…

You left the stack of photos where you found them and stepped away with your friend, feeling uneasy with the vibe it now gave off.

"Uhm… maybe later…" you suggested to your friend, taking his silence as agreement.

You slowly backed away from the hallway that led to that room, then ran toward your sisters without looking back.

With only hours until your mother's project was complete, you couldn't shake the feeling inside you that something was wrong. Is this what your mother called a bad feeling?

You had no idea what it felt like to be watched. But you brushed it off and began to ponder what could be causing it.

Maybe it was because of your visit to that man's chamber yesterday. "Yes, it must be that," you convinced yourself.

On the other hand, your mother looked radiant today. You noticed how her eyes sparkled with ambition and joy, and her good mood was infectious.

You tried to stay positive; soon you would be able to go outside! You were filled with excitement at the thought of exploring the city where you and your mother lived.

She had once told you about an 'arcade,' a place filled with bright lights, video games, and machines to win prizes. It sounded like a dream to you! You often asked your mother what the video game machines were like, what kinds of games there were, and how to play them. She would respond vaguely if she wasn’t busy. She also talked about restaurants, the delicious and extravagant food you could find outside, amusement parks, movie theaters, and parks.

The outside world sounded amazing! You felt so sad about not being able to go out.

But right now, your mother was very busy with your sister, and anyway, after today, you and your mother would be free.

With silent steps, you approached the entrance of the house and crossed the threshold as quickly as you could.

You and your friend explored the surroundings like two intrepid adventurers! In your search for a prehistoric creature in the sky, you spotted a shadow in the darkness of a rooftop. It moved so quickly that for a moment you thought you had imagined it, but when you focused your gaze again, you caught the movement of a black silhouette.

You had no idea how long that... person? Creature? had been there, but the fact that it had been lurking since the beginning sent chills down your spine. Your mind suddenly connected it with the nice guy dressed as a bat in the newspapers, and you wondered if it could have been him.

You decided it was time to stop playing and head back home.

Anyway, your fun had ended about two minutes ago when your mother noticed you weren’t home anymore.

When you reached the entrance, she was already waiting for you, and she didn’t look too pleased.

She didn’t say a word; she simply stepped aside to let you obediently enter through the door, which you did.

As if the burning glare wasn't enough, the slam of the door behind you was more than enough indication that your mother was upset with you.

"Y/N, can you explain to me why you were outside? Especially when I told you it was dangerous for you and that I need you in here now more than ever?" she asked through clenched teeth.

“Doodle wanted to go explore…” you said shyly.

“Doodle?”

“My friend,” you pointed to your newly named plush buddy.

“Oh, I guess Doodle’s being a bad influence on you. That’s not good.”

Before you could process your mom’s words, she had already snatched Doodle from your arms.

“Mom, please don’t! It was my idea, not his!”

“In that case, I’ll punish you both.”

She grabbed your arm with a grip so strong you were sure it would leave a noticeable mark by morning.

In that moment, you started to fear for your life. Desperate, you began to struggle against her, trying to free yourself from her tight hold, but nothing seemed to work.

Your mother was getting closer and closer to the room where she had dug a massive pit and disposed of the previous owner, and the last time you checked, his body was already in advanced decay, with the worms and larvae having little left to eat.

If your mom decided to chop off your legs again and throw you into the pit with that man, the worms and larvae would feast on you, feeding on your living body, crawling under your skin through any hole they find or decide to make, devouring you from the inside out; this time, there wouldn't even be any eyes left. You were sure of it.

The pain in your arm had been forgotten. It would be nothing compared to being eaten alive by larvae slowly. You started to cry, plead, and scream; at that moment, you didn’t think that could make your situation worse—nothing could honestly make it worse.

“No, no, no, no, please, Mom, not the well! I’ll be good! Please! Please, please, please!” Your mother turned a deaf ear to your pleas, and when you realized she wasn’t going to listen, you started screaming louder, hoping someone would hear you. “Help, please! Mr. Bat! Mr. Bat!”

Your mom stopped dead in her tracks and turned to you with a look of panic.

“Bat? You let Batman see you?!” Her grip tightened even more on your little arm, and out of fear, you confessed that you had, explaining about the silhouette on the rooftop.

Your mom’s mind seemed to be racing; you couldn’t even imagine what she was thinking.

For better (or worse), your mom started moving away from the room that held the pit and headed toward a small broom closet. Without a second thought, she carelessly tossed you inside, and a moment later, Doodle met the same fate.

"You're going to stay here. If I happen to hear even the slightest noise from you, I'm going to give you real reasons to scream."

"B-But I want to help you, Mom. I want to be useful."

"Believe me, little brat, I can think of plenty of ways to use you as a distraction or bait, and none of them would end well for you."

You were doing your best not to cry like you wanted to, but your sniffles and hiccups were clear signs you weren't doing a good job. Your mother's words echoed in your head over and over, like a scratched record. You didn't have the strength to respond; if you opened your mouth, your voice would probably break in the middle of the sentence and you'd start saying unintelligible things, so you just focused on trying to hold back the tears.

Your mom started examining the small room, taking note of the tiny window set a bit higher than the door, and right in front of it was the broom closet. With a bit of effort, even you could climb up the closet and escape through the window that leads to the hallway.

It's too much risk for your mom to ignore. But now she doesn't have time to look for another room; Batman was already here.

“There’s no other way…” she murmured more to herself than to you. You could barely hear what she said.

In an instant, your mom lunged at you, sitting on your chest, with both legs beside you, pinning your hands down with her weight. With one movement, she grabbed your left leg with one hand and covered your mouth with the other.

“Take a deep breath,” she commanded, but you didn’t get the chance before you heard a…

Crack!

Now you understood why she had told you to take a deep breath. As your mom broke your leg, the air in your body escaped in one strong exhalation. It hurt so much that even your brain temporarily forgot how to breathe, and without that air, you couldn’t make a sound.

But once your lungs filled with air, the crying came quickly.

Tears streamed down your temples to the ground, where they vanished without a trace.

For the sake of your life, you tried to cry as quietly as possible, but damn it, try doing that with a broken leg.

Your head was all fuzzy from the mixed feelings and thoughts swirling around, combined with your sobbing.

You didn’t get where her good mood from that morning had gone. But one thing was clear—ever since you mentioned Batman, your mom had completely lost it. You couldn’t imagine why, but it was all her fault.

Your mom loved you, but because of her, she had become even more violent than usual.

It was her fault. Her fault. Her fault. Her fault.

You couldn't believe you had ever admired those guys. They were supposed to protect and defend good people, like your mom and you. Guess you were wrong about them.

But more importantly, if Batman and company were here, it meant they were after your mom. They were the ones who were going to stop her from completing her grand plan. They were going to hurt your mom and sister.

You weren’t going to let that happen.

You could prove you were still useful. You could show that, if you weren’t good as a daughter, you could serve as a guardian for your siblings.

Whatever she wanted you to be, you would be. You just wanted to be by her side; was that too much to ask?

With your last bit of strength, you tried to stand, but you couldn’t until you grabbed one of the brooms from the closet and turned it into a makeshift cane to help you walk.

Even with a broken leg, that didn’t stop you. With the help of a couple of buckets, you managed to climb out of the closet and squeeze through the window.

You let out a small scream when you landed on your broken leg. Luckily, your mom was busy tending to the guests.

“You’ve gone too far this time, Ivy.” You heard Batman. It was just the two of them, face to face.

“What’s gone too far is humanity’s ignorance,” your mom shot back. “Maybe now, turned into plants, they’ll have some empathy for the environment if they want to live.”

As your mom and Batman continued to argue with each other, you noticed a shadow behind the motor that powered the huge blue pole.

“Ivy, you’ve tried this before. Do you want me to remind you how it ended?”

“That was before. Back then, I didn’t have the missing component for the formula, an important variant for the equation. But now it’s different.”

Batman squinted. “Are you talking about that girl?”

“Touché! I see you’ve met my little one.”

Your internal alarms went off when Batman's partner pulled out a knife, clearly intending to hurt the engine. You decided to come out of hiding before it was too late.

“Mom! Behind you!” you shouted.

She turned around, now noticing the Wonder Boy trying to jump to attack her. Your mother's plants wrapped around him before he could do anything, but it didn’t last long before Batman tossed his smoke bombs.

Amidst the thick smoke, you tried to get to the engine and your sister before they tried to attack them again. You walked as fast as your leg would allow, using your siblings as a guide to reach the spot. In the middle of that, you could already hear your mom and the intruders fighting. Occasionally, there were stray batarangs flying by, or you’d hear some grunting or an explosion.

You decided to ignore all of that and keep going with your goal.

But you didn’t expect Batman’s partner to block your way. A large baton unfolded from his weapon belt and…

“Hey, doesn’t he look like Doodle?”

Now that you thought about it, you had left him abandoned in the broom closet. Great, now you were also a terrible friend.

You got distracted for a few seconds in your thoughts, which Red Robin took advantage of to attack you with his baton.

You barely managed to react, dodging his strike and using your makeshift cane as a defense, but of course, that meant sacrificing your balance. And, for God’s sake, this guy didn’t miss a thing—he seemed to know exactly what was happening to you.

He just needed to exert a little more force to take you down, which made sense considering he was twice your height and probably weighed three times as much. The poor five-and-a-half-year-old you, who only drank water to survive, couldn’t stand up to an experienced vigilante like him.

You tried to drag yourself along the ground, backing up until your back hit the large motor. Damn. You were cornered.

Your breath quickened, as did your heartbeat. You couldn’t let this cheap knockoff of Doodle catch you. You couldn’t allow him to damage this motor, and you couldn’t let him hurt your sister or your mom. You weren’t going to let that happen.

The preteen ran toward you with the intention of ending this absurd fight. He didn’t have time to waste on you; Batman needed his help, but first, he had to destroy the motor before the disperser activated and Gotham turned into a giant botanical garden, and you were just delaying him.

When Red Robin got close to you, your mind went blank in the panic. You simply put an arm in front of your face to shield yourself and closed your eyes, waiting for the impact. But it never came. Instead, you felt a new part of yourself, completely unknown, spreading in all directions.

When you opened your eyes, Red Robin was already far from you, in the same position—or something like it; you really couldn’t see him well, as your attention was drawn to the long, sharp thorns protruding from various parts of your body. You hadn’t expected this, and you had a feeling that Red Robin hadn’t either.

You felt it as a victory when he got up from the ground, and after one last look at you, he ran off.

With the threat now far away, your thorns began to retract back into your body, returning to normal. Your sense of glory faded as you felt a cold liquid running down your back. You stood up as quickly as you could and assessed the state of the motor, which now looked more like Swiss cheese than anything else. You didn’t think that was a good sign...

You had to back away several meters to avoid getting splashed by the peculiar-smelling liquid. You had no idea what you had punctured, but now the motor’s gasoline was gushing out like a fountain, splattering everything within a considerable radius.

You started to panic when the outlet it was plugged into began to spark. You moved away as much as you could, and your surroundings were enveloped in an unsettling silence. You could no longer hear the sounds of the fight or the voices of the adults; all that could be heard was the electrical crackling, a prelude to something truly bad about to happen.

The sparks finally hit a puddle of gasoline leading to the engine.

Boom!

You were thrown back by the explosion and lost consciousness right away.

Hiedra watched in horror as the explosion obliterated her grand project and set it ablaze mercilessly. She could hear it; she could hear the screams of her beloved children, calling for help, begging to be rescued.

Soon, the explosion reached one of the trees, and it was only a matter of time before her other children were painfully consumed by the flames. She could see them thrashing in agony, trying to put out the fire unsuccessfully, and then finally stop showing signs of struggle and die. The stench of their charred, fire-scorched bodies hit her. Nausea washed over her in that moment, but she couldn't react.

Everything around her was crashing down. Five years of hard work thrown to waste. Blood spilled in vain.

All that was left from all of this were the ashes of her children and her efforts. There was nothing left. And soon, this property would crumble to pieces as well.

She had to get out.

It was then that she seemed to remember your presence. You.

With a quick glance around, she found your unconscious body lying amidst the flames and chaos, and what was more alarming, the soles of your feet were starting to catch fire. She rushed to extinguish the growing flames before picking you up and getting out of there immediately. In the middle of the street, she saw shards of polarized glass scattered and some motor oil staining the pavement.

Ha, at least the damn Batmobile didn’t come out unscathed from the explosion. If she had the strength, she would surely laugh about it, but right now, she was not in any condition to do so.

Shortly after, she saw your body twisting behind her, with obvious signs that you were beginning to regain your memory. She remained in place, continuing to contemplate the disastrous ruins of her plans.

You slowly sat up on the asphalt, feeling disoriented and sore all over. A few meters away, you noticed a small black and red silhouette; you recognized Doodle immediately and dragged yourself until you had him in your hands.

You hugged him close to your chest, very happy that he had survived the explosion. Or did your mom take him out with you?

Speaking of her, you probably needed to apologize for this…

You struggled to stand up, and soon you felt a new sharp, burning pain in the soles of both feet, but you ignored it; that was nothing compared to the pain of your siblings being burned alive to death. And it was your fault.

You hopped on one foot, trying to maintain your balance until you were behind your mother.

“Uhm… Mom?”

She didn’t respond, nor did she make any gesture to indicate that she was listening, but you were sure she was.

“I… I’m really sorry, Mom, it was an accident…” you tried to explain. Your heart was beating so loudly that it resonated in your ears, a huge knot formed in your throat and in the pit of your stomach, and your palms wouldn’t stop sweating, causing you to fidget with your clothes (more like rags now) to try to dry them.

You didn’t see your mother’s strong slap coming, and you felt the full impact, causing you to roll several meters away from her. Something tore from your face, and you were sure it was your left eye.

In your experience in the pit, a worm had crawled through your eyelids and made its way to the back of your eye, eating the nerves that held it in place.

Your mother explained that that worm had eaten very delicate parts of your eye nerves; they were too complex for your young body to efficiently regenerate, so your body, as an immediate solution, only rebuilt a small part of those nerves to hold your eye, like thin threads supporting a bowling ball (even though you didn’t know it was a bowling ball, you assumed it was something heavy).

Now, if you hit your head hard, those little threads would snap, and your eye would detach from your face.

You dragged yourself across the pavement with the help of your forearms, feeling the broken glass digging into your abdomen and thighs, the cold pavement counteracting the burning sensation from the scrapes left by the explosion, not helping much with their healing.

When you managed to catch your eyeball, you quickly placed it in your empty underwear, making sure your mother wouldn’t see you; you knew how repulsed she was by your defective eye.

“Did you do this? Did you cause this?” your mother’s voice sounded nothing less than chilling. She approached you with short, patient steps, like a predator stalking its prey, savoring your fear before tearing you apart.

You were scared to answer; all that could be heard was your sobs.

“I ASKED YOU A QUESTION!” your mother shouted, gripping your fragile neck tightly and lifting you until your feet didn’t touch the ground.

You were scared to answer, but you were even more scared of what your mom would do to you just to make you speak.

You could feel the effects of the lack of oxygen and how your mother’s grip was getting stronger with each passing second. You knew she had enough strength to break your neck, and she was more than willing.

You nodded vigorously, confessing to your crime.

Your mother let you go, letting you fall to the ground. You didn’t notice the furious expression on her face; your head and lungs were too busy trying to recover from the oxygen deprivation.

She grabbed your hair and didn’t care to drag you down the street amidst your whimpers and pleas.

“Mom, please stop! You’re scaring me!”

“My legs hurt so much; I can’t walk!”

“Mom, please forgive me! Don’t hurt me!”

Every plea you made fell on deaf ears. You remembered walking a long way until you reached a tall building; there were a few stairs leading to the building’s doors, and your mother dragged you to them.

The entire way, she didn’t say a word, and now she was about to turn around and leave you there.

You didn't want that. You didn't want to be alone.

With your last bit of strength, you held onto your mother's legs and begged with your broken, worn-out voice.

"Please, please, please, Mom, don’t leave me. I can change, I can be better, I promise I’ll be better, I can be useful to you. Mom, please don’t abandon me, please, please, please."

"Please, I’ll cook, I’ll clean, I’ll do whatever. Please, Mommy, don’t stop being my mom."

Your mother pressed her hand on your head, trying to push you away from her.

"Don’t. Touch. Me!!"

With one final shove, she pushed you away.

"Please, Mommy, I love you! I love you so much!"

"I don’t love you! Who the hell could love a useless little brat like you?!"

"But… But…"

"'But… But…' Listen to me well, little killer. If you tell anyone that I'm your mother, and I swear to God I'll know if you do, feeding you to the worms will be the lightest thing that happens to you." She grabbed your face harshly and brought it close to hers. "I gave you life, and I can take it away." She pushed you away from her with one last rough shove and glanced around twice before striding off.

You curled up, crying in a corner, wishing your mother would regret her decision and take you with her, just like you had always dreamed.

"Mom… Mom…" you couldn't care less about the pathetic image you were presenting. "I just wanted to help… I just…"

You were living a nightmare. It had to be.

You just needed to sleep, and the next morning you would wake up, and everything would be like it was before…

It wasn't until the next morning that the caretakers at the orphanage realized you were at their entrance.

✿⁠ ⸺ N/A ⦂ Honestly, a lot of this chapter was just made up as I went along, and I didn't plan most of it, but I still think it's a solid prologue. Sorry if you were looking for more BatFamily moments, but no worries, the next chapter will dive into Reader's time with them!

✿⁠ ⸺ N/A ⦂ I still don't really get Tumblr, but I'd really appreciate any comments or hearts! <3

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