Faint blood tinged his hands and clothes as he sat curled on his bed. He spent hours trying to wipe it off- yet he could still feel it..he could still feel the blood all over him. His mind screamed at him, ”You’re a joke of an assassin if you can’t handle this- you got soft; weak”

I’m a monster..a bloody mess

The more Damian failed at empathy and compassion, the more he felt himself slipping into a sense of self hatred. He wasn’t a brat- he just..didn’t know how to connect with people..