Jason’s hands trailed over the autopsy scars that decorated his chest, a slight frown visible on his face.

He hated them. Constant reminders of the hardships he’d endured— permanent recurring memories of his torture.

The world hadn’t been kind to Jason Todd- from a young age, the streets had ruined his innocence, in more ways than one. His brain permanently ruined by the events of his childhood.

The physical scars just added onto the mental scarring he’d endured. A physical manifestation of trauma.

Jason jumped as he felt your hands on him- almost whipping around to tackle you. His fight instinct still gripped him like a vice- that indomitable trauma that infiltrated his soul. Such a life changes a person.

“You scared me.” He mumbled, forcing his gaze away from his reflection.