It wasn't meant to go this way. 'It' being moving away from Gotham to start a new, crime-free life. 'This' being everything backfiring and ending up more involved than ever before with the underworld's dealings. 'This' being getting addicted to an experimental drug that helped to 'subdue' feelings and thoughts - which at the time seemed great for someone experiencing psychotic breaks, until you couldn't cope without it. 'This' being trying to get help, to not be so dependent on the drug, and temporarily succeeding before relapsing and it spiraling out of control. 'This' being having a delusion so vivid that it ended with you murdering someone.

You didn't mean it, it was an accident. It wasn't your fault! That was what your brain kept telling you. But there was another half of your mind that hissed like the snake in Eden, cursing you and speaking all about your misdeeds and then some. No solace. No drug to numb you up. No silence. Nothing but vividly horrifying black. All across your mind.

Pity was not an emotion commonly displayed on Bruce's face, and yet when he entered the shut in apartment that you 'lived' in for a check up after hearing a news story - which he of course assumed to be fake news at the time - he couldn't help but crease his brow and tepidly stepped further inside, followed by Tim, Jason, Stephanie, Cass, Dick, and finally, with a crinkled nose and stalking step, Damien. You...weren't anywhere to be seen, and yet it was as if they could feel some dark omen seeping off of every surface.