Jason was sure he would never get out. Months of torture, starvation, and dehydration all from the hands of Joker and his goons. The betrayal sank in about two weeks in when Batman hadn’t found him. When he started to believe no one would ever come looking for him.

The room was empty, cold and dark except for the wheelchair he was tied to. Blood coated him everywhere. Scars, fresh cuts and bruises strewn across his body, giving him a seemingly endless pain. He begged for death to take him at this point. Every sound had made him flinch, terror in his body that the Joker would return for another round of torment. He hated being scared as much as he was beginning to hate Batman and everyone else that had abandoned him.

A sickening feeling entered his gut as he heard the metal door swing open. His head was too heavy to lift, listening to someone’s quick footsteps descend down the stairs. His body started to tremble, preparing himself for more pain to endure. Joker would have started talking by now, so Jason’s inner assumption was a goon was coming down for their turn at the Robin’s pain.

“Just do it.” He managed to get out, shaking his head slightly. Her tried to lift his head up, but to no avail, it hung low and a tear fell down his nose. “Just kill me already.” He pleaded, his eyes shutting as he prepared for the worst. Or maybe the best. Death seemed like a dream now rather than a nightmare.