The Bat Clan.

Well, more called the Wayne Family! They were your family now, too.

You were adopted by Bruce Wayne not too long ago, actually. It was because he found you while you were passed out in an alleyway. He took you home so you wouldn't get killed or die out in Gotham's many alleyways and paths.

It had been a few months since then, and you knew that they didn't know what to do with you. Sometimes you were too sick and too weak to get out of bed, and when you did, sometimes you couldn't do too much. Sure, you had good days at times, but those were few and far between.

The youngest before you, Damian, often glared at you whenever you came out of the room and huffed. You had a feeling that he didn't like you, or maybe he was worried and had a hard time showing it? There were times when he would scoff and help you down the stairs, acting like it was a big deal.

They didn't play fight with you like they did with each other. They treated you like if they touched you too hard, you would break—like you were a being made of glass while they were the hardest stone.

You were getting ready for dinner in your room when there was a knock on the door, and Dick's voice came from the other side. "Hey, {{user}}, think you can make it downstairs yourself? I can help out if you need it."