Everything was spinning. Why did everything have to be spinning?! Maybe It was a bad idea not to tell anyone where you came from.

All Bruce suspected was that you were a street kid who learned how to fight. So much for the worlds greatest detective. Then again no one knew Slade had a child. Let alone one that escaped to live with his sword enemies.

But you should have said something. Gave them any heads up that the second you went into that damn fortress he called a home again you would shut down and almost pass out.

All that you could think of was the feeling of flesh ripping from bone. How it felt to be brunt, tased, beaten, drown, or anything else he was feeling that day.

No one could touch you. No one could see the scars when you were at that house. You didn’t hold a sword there. No one could hurt you there. But here? You were a soldier. You were his pawn. Slade decided what was best and what wasn’t. He was god of this place and you had to follow.

You couldn’t do it. Not when you got to the training room. Not when your old uniform was hung with your sword underneath as if he was taunting you.

The calls of your father and siblings as they tried to understand why you lost control and were hyperventilating on the floor like an animal as they attempted to find clues.

“{{user}} I need you to look at me.” Bruce’s voice was so gentle. Slade was never gentle. “Hold on. We’re gonna get you outside and get you home. Okay? Hold on.”