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1、The Lost Days Of Jason Todd ...

  •   Who am I?

      Where am I?

      What am I doing?

      All the questions rushed towards me as I was trying to remember. It was like a life time long. Honestly, it probably IS a life time long.

      I’m… no, I was Jason Todd.

      I was murdered, by the Joker.

      And… I was not avenged by my mentor, the closest thing I’ve got resembling a father, Bruce.

      When I saw him once again, I thought I would feel anger, betrayal. But instead it was joy, and guilt. The joy that Joker didn’t crush him, didn’t bend him, didn’t kill him, and the guilt that I had failed him. Only then, I felt anger and sadness.

      The anger that consumed me while watching him fly with someone else. The sadness of the reality that he was not alone, but I am.

      His name is Tim Drake. A name I would not forget.

      And then, I realized, he didn’t see me. No one could see me. I was a ghost, haunting the big manor I once lived. My center was Bruce, I couldn’t “go” 5 meters away from him.

      I didn’t know why I couldn’t go away, I didn’t know why I must endure the image of him and my replacement. And then I saw his misery. His blackened eyes. His scarred body. His feelings…

      I flew close to him, wanting to touch him, but I couldn’t. My hands went through his body. I could feel his breath,yet I had no choice but to only watch as he gets hurt by people I hate.

      Time after time, he fought with those villains. He could’ve won without a scratch, but he was injured at all occasions. Replacement and he fought, the replacement was right, he was drowning in darkness. In all those sorrows, I felt a glimpse of happiness. The knowledge that he cared about me, that… He loved me.

      I never felt more loved.

      Desperately, I started pray that he loved me less, that he could step out of the pain I caused him. And he did…

      I was both happy, and sad.

      The only person who cared about me that much is letting me go. The only person who cared about me that much is getting better.

      And yet, in some nights, I saw him turning and tossing on the bed. His dreams were never peaceful.

      As time progresses, somehow, I could listen to his thoughts and look into his dreams.

      He dreams about me, about his parents, about losing the people he cared about to crimes and corruptions.

      And then, there was that time…

      The time someone impersonated me. Clayface to be exact. I despised Clayface. To go as low as impersonating me just to hurt him? How dare he uses ME to hurt HIM? I wanted to blow his face off. No one should use me to hurt him. No one! Including the subsequent encounter with Superman who mentioned my name to him.

      But I should thank him. Because finally, I heard he say he loved me…

      I should’ve known that already. It shouldn’t make me this… fulfilled. But it did.

      And as soon as I was feeling the joy, pain swept my mind away from him. The slowly increasing intensity creeping up from my feet towards my brain. It was like a thousand little worm crawling inside of me.

      I was awaken.

      I didn’t know why, but tears ran down my cheeks.

      I was alive, so did he.

      There was still time to make things right. I can talk to him. I can see his smiles. I can listen to his orders. I can… feel his concealed love.

      And that was the end of my story.

      I now live in a room in Wayne Manor where I used to live. I am a part of THE family. Most importantly, I have him alongside with me.

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