Mad Jyhad

It had occurred to me before that they weren't coming. But it got to the point that I figured that maybe I had the wrong end of the stick before. Maybe they weren't dead. Maybe they thought that I was dead.

Nah, they would check! They would KNOW that I wasn't dead. They would exhaust every effort to make sure that I was okay. Even if they suspected that I was dead, they would keep looking until they had found a body!

Then I found myself thinking, 'Oh God, maybe THEY were dead after all!'

I asked the stars, 'Could that be it?'

It was about that time that I actually HEARD them say something coherent. {No, they live, fluttering to and fro with no more purpose, living a dream that has turned into a nightmare. Time has fled; Scouts must go to their beds.}

The interesting part is that it didn't occur to me then to wonder about them answering. It felt entirely natural. I was more concerned about 'How long had I been in there? I was so HUNGRY! It hurt! I had never been so hungry in my life! My stomach felt like it was trying to, I don't know, digest itself. It hurt so badly. The fire in my stomach wasn't as bad as the tortured pain I had felt not long after waking the first time but it was a close second.

I asked the stars if they could bring me food. {No, little one. You have to be strong enough to get your own. Or at least get out to find someone to ask. If you wait long enough the wormies will visit...the worms crawl in...the worms crawl out...the worms play...}

I tuned them out. Obviously, they weren't planning on helping me. And their singing sucked. I resolved not to ask them for anything else. In fact, from that point on, every time they spoke I pretended not to hear them.

Yeah, I was pouting and sulking. Childish, I know. But the stars made me mad! They could at least have asked someone to come and help me! So, nope, I told myself that I wasn't going to talk to them at all.

Hours later I was ashamed of myself.

I panicked; I banged on the lid and screamed, begging for them to let me out! To just let me out, I would do anything that they wanted! ANYTHING! I would tell them anything just to please, please, please let mt!
t!

I figured that if the stars refused to listen maybe the ones that actually put me inside the coffin would.

No one answered though. I wondered if maybe they had wandered off and left me there. The stars were strangely quiet at that point. I actually began to miss them. At least they had kept me company. I closed my eyes tightly so I could see them again, if I couldn't hear them, I could at least see them, counting them always calmed me down after a 'panic' attack.

I started thinking though. Where did they get my clothes? Did they break into my house? Did they hurt my dad? It had never occurred to me! My clothes, and there was no doubt that those WERE my clothes, Tim Drake's clothes NOT Robin's. Where did they get them?

They had gone to a lot of trouble to convince me that I was dead and buried.

How did they figure out my name? There wasn't anything on my person that would identify me! I mean... even if they had seen my face, how would they know who I was?

I seriously began to freak out again!

"I've GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE!"

I couldn't take it anymore. I reached up and started scratching and clawing. The cloth above me ripped easily but it gave me no satisfaction even as I shredded it with my hands.

OUT! I had to get out!

I chanted inside my head, 'Damn them! Damn them ALL! I will get out! I WILL!'

I coughed as I hammered at the lid. Something started to fall in...dirt? I tasted dirt in my mouth. I screamed and more fell in my mouth. "Oh GOD! It is filling...oh GOD I'm buried ALIVE!"

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No.

No. This couldn't be happening. This was a bad, bad, dream. That was all there was to it.

No.

I did not accept anything.

As I looked toward the clear sky I took in a deep breath. I held it then let it out slowly. The stars looked down on me. They seemed to laugh.

Fuck them. It wasn't funny. I still don't see what the hell they thought was so damn funny.

I thought, maybe, it had worked. They had driven me insane. Isn't that what can happen with sensory deprivation? I mean... I wasn't really sitting in a cemetery, was I? No, some bad guy had me somewhere and he had been trying to drive me crazy. That was it. I just had to be strong. I kept telling myself this. I didn't want to believe what my eyes were telling me. It was too much. I just wanted it all to be a bad dream and for NONE of it to be real.

Why was this happening to me? I just wanted to be home, or be at school, be somewhere safe.

Maybe it was the Joker? I mean this was a pretty...bad...joke.

They had brought him back to Gotham to try his case. He was suing the City of Gotham. Something about his rights, I didn't catch most of it at the time. It was utter bullshit, of course; he was just making trouble! But it earned him a ticket BACK! Maybe, he did this to me? I thought it was a reasonable possibility. It was better than the alternative!

Because this couldn't be right, this couldn't be real. This kind of thing didn't happen in real life.

I couldn't really be looking at my blood-covered dirt encrusted hands in the moonlight.

They would have hurt! All they felt like was...numb. Cold and numb and tingling like my body did when I first woke up. And if I had really just clawed my way out of a coffin in the middle of a cemetery they would have to hurt because my hands were ragged! I had managed to rip some of my fingernails out...and that would HURT!

The only thing that hurt on me right then was my STOMACH! I was hungry! It felt like there was a fire lit inside. Like I was some sort of emancipated third world country street urchin who had never had a decent meal in my entire miserable existence!

So this was just not happening. It couldn't be. I was not really there!

Well, I was sure I was someplace, just not there! I was not looking at that headstone. The headstone that could NOT exist because NONE of it was true!

The headstone with my full name on it, the headstone with my date of birth, the headstone with a death date.

I did not die, it said, October 17th, 2002! Yeah, that was the date we fought those...people...but I didn't die! Kidnapped, yes! Tortured mentally, hell yeah! But dead? I wouldn't be there, thinking to myself, having that whole, mental conversation going. I think, therefore I am, right? Well, I thought, therefore, I was!

If I was dead, I would feel dead, wouldn't I?

If you go to that cemetery today, you can still read my headstone. I go there once in a while. It reminds me that anything can happen. Keeps me from getting too cocky. But at the time...

I told myself I couldn't be a ghost. Secret was a ghost. She wouldn't have had to claw her way out of anywhere, she could just...and she...

But I couldn't claw my way out of there either because I was not there...

Finally, I thought, 'Oh God, I've gone insane, because no way am I sitting here touching my own headstone.'

The stars were laughing at me again. Back then, I wasn't used to it, now, I just ignore the jerks.

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I don't know how long I sat there crying. But I figured, 'Damn it, if I'm going to be insane, I have a right to cry. So fuck those stars laughing at the 'poor widdle boy cwying to hiswelf' FUCK THEM! Crazy people can do what the hell they want. Right?'

The Arkham Asylum loonies seem to get a lot of mileage out of the whole, 'I'm crazy so I can do what I want' routine.

Not that I don't think they should still be held responsible for their actions. But at the time I wanted...an out...an excuse to just let go and cry without fear. Without the whole, 'I'm a boy and boys don't cry' bullshit.

Eventually, I did stop crying and when I was done I felt a lot more...peaceful. I wasn't happy or anything but the blind panic was gone. I felt drained. Even the hunger seemed to have abated a little bit. I leaned against the grave marker and remembered that I had shoved something in my pocket back in the coffin.

They were definitely photos, of me and my friends from school. It hurts, even now, to think of those pictures. On the back they had written stuff like 'We'll never forget you' and 'love you forever'. It was sweet, actually.

Almost absently I shoved them back into my pants pocket and sat back down. I had no idea what I should do next.

I sensed someone behind me.

It was like, I could almost see them, and I almost expected them to disappear as I turned around. But, nope, they were still there. I...he...was familiar. I remembered him...

"Finally got out, huh?"

He was grinning at me. Seemed to think it was funny as hell. Prick. His hair was so blond it looked silver in the moonlight. How cliché. I found myself rolling my eyes. Even now, it seems so...weird. His clothing was actually quite nice, soft blue jeans with an oversized black sweater. My training took over and I dropped down into a defensive posture.

He laughed at me. I didn't like that. I wanted to...never mind exactly what I wanted to do but as I recognized what I was thinking I thought to myself, "...oh God I HAVE lost it."

I suppose there is no point in saying 'never mind' huh? You could just read it in my mind. And since I gave you permission to beforehand...

I wanted to rip him apart with my bare hands! I wanted to pull each finger off one by one and crunch them with my teeth. I want to...oh God. I thought, 'They'll be locking me up next to Joker soon!'

The desire to hurt and to maim and to even kill was so strong. Only fear kept me from trying anything. Fear of what would happen to me. What if I was caught? What would Batman say? What was I becoming?

"Hungry, little one?" he asked me.

Hungry? That was an understatement. My stomach burned with hunger again. And what the hell? My face was cramping. I wanted it to stop! My stomach and my face! All of it hurt! And I just KNEW that if I could just give in to those thoughts in my head that it would all be...better.

"That's the spirit, little one! Come here!" He grabbed my hand and pulled me up to him.

What kind of pervert...?

Suddenly, I didn't mind anymore. He was stroking my back gently and nuzzling my neck, I knew it was wrong but it felt so good. Familiar too, like this was what he should have been doing all along. I started to remember as I felt the sharp pain in my neck...

I remembered ALL of that night in October. The night of the frat party that ended in my death.

There was pain! I remembered the pain. Batman was, somewhere, behind me...fighting someone when I was grabbed and held down. I remembered then...the low hiss in my ear as he talked to me. "Beautiful. You are beautiful...just as they promised."

So strange to be called beautiful, handsome yes, but beautiful was such a strange concept. But looking back I can say that HE was beautiful. As he drank from me for a second time I continued to remember the first...

I had tried to fighm bum but he held me so tight that I could feel my ribs begin to crack. I struggled as he began to kiss my neck. One hand holding me around the middle as another grabbed me...there...I whimpered as his hand closed around me, squeezing me. Oh fuck, it had hurt!

I was sure that he was going to try and rape me or something. Ironically, despite what a lot of people think most of the bad guys in Gotham, at least the loonies, they usually don't resort to rape. The Joker has, of course...but most of the others...it isn't their bag of tricks.

Then he had stopped kissing and I felt the pain in my neck as he ripped into it. It had burned then turned icy. With every ragged breath I felt the blood pour out of my throat as he lapped at it quickly, purring as he drank. I couldn't push him off. Slowly, I stopped even trying as a haze fell around me.

His hand found its way into my hair and began to stroke it softly. It was calming and I discovered a lot of what little fear I had at that point fading.

I gasped for breath as he rooted around my throat. My eyes drifting shut as my heart began to skip, pain replaced by pleasure. He pulled me up and rubbed against me. Murmuring against my throat, telling me how much he loved me and wanted me and I began to never want it to end. His hand found its way back down to my now aching...oh God I just wanted him to take me right there! I had never wanted anything like that before in my life.

I needed him. I needed him so badly that I ached in ways I never felt before. I found myself thrusting against him weakly. Begging him in small gasps and whispers to take me, to fuck me. He kissed me and I could taste my own blood upon his lips and I began to moan.

It was all fading away and I was starting to have trouble staying awake. My eyes slid shut and the world began to tilt. He stroked my hair and told me that it was okay. My eyes wouldn't open and I felt thick liquid on my lips. "Drink, little one. Drink while there is still time, and I'll wait for you!"

And he did! Oh, he waited for me! And any anger at him was melted away as he drank from me again. I wrapped my arms around him and hugged. Fo. For the first time in days perhaps, I felt complete joy. I could hear and feel the purring vibration run through him as he drank deeply from my throat. I could feel him pulling and sucking at the blood and my groin began to pulse in tempo with it.

I felt like crying as he pulled away, I could feel the blood slowly oozing from my neck, further ruining clothes already beyond saving.

"It's okay! I've got what you need!" He pulled me close again, pressing my face against his own throat and my face cramped again. The skin felt tight and hot and I felt...frantic. Like I had to do something NOW!

He pressed me so tightly to him. I opened my mouth and felt...needles grow...no...not needles. I moaned, "...oh...no...oh YES..." as my new teeth tore into him, the taste indescribable.

All that mattered was the taste...all that mattered was this man; I didn't even know his name. His arms closed around me and he held me. Rocking me as I drank and drank forever. Loving him more with every drink. Rubbing against him relishing the friction.

I whined as he pulled my head away.

"Not too much, baby! Just enough to help you through till the real dinner!" he whispered.

His face! It was...it was like it was that night, the demon-y face that had caused the others to yell vampire. It was the most beautiful face I had ever seen. The cramping in my own face didn't seem so bad anymore and I briefly wondered did I look like him? Had I become...like him?

He kissed me. Oh, I had never been kissed like that. The sharp teeth in my mouth sliced his tongue; I could feel the blood dripping into my mouth. I felt a tiny trill of pain and realized that my own tongue had been cut also.

I almost came right then, the feel of our blood mixing as I swallowed. It never occurred to me to wonder about diseases...and I didn't feel like asking...I don't think I honestly would have cared to be truthful.

"Need...to...get you back...to the haven!" he breathed between kisses. "Don't want them to take you!"

"Don't understand!" I gasped as he pulled me up. I had to hold myself just to keep from humping his leg. All I wanted to do was...have him. For him to take me! I needed it like I never needed anything before. What had happened to me? I had never felt like this before. Never wanted anything like this before. I didn't recognize myself.

"I'll explain...later!" He pulled me after him as we ran across the grass dodging headstones. Weaving in and out of the trees. It was almost like flying. In fact, except for the brief times our feet touched the ground to propel us forward, we might as well have been flying.

"Who are you? What is your name?" I asked.

"To you...Sire!"

I wish that I had asked him his real name that night. But you know what they say? If wishes were fishes we could walk to China without ever getting our feet wet.

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It didn't matter anymore. The stars could laugh all they wanted to. It didn't matter that I was insane. That some pod person had come and taken over while I had slept. That I had lost my mind. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that Sire was holding my hand and taking me...home? It didn't matter; home was wherever Sire was.

Unfortunately for me, nothing ever goes that smoothly.

I felt them before seeing them. I could feel the hatred. Sire felt them too. He tried to go around them but there were too many of them.

The fight didn't last long. We were outnumbered and while Sire was the most wonderful being in creation, he wasn't trained for fighting.

He pushed me to the side and hissed for me to run. He told me that I was their only chance! To get away! Only chance at what I had no idea, but I did not want to leave him. I hesitated as he tackled the nearest adversary. It snarled and its face changed and I knew that it was indeed like us. Like Sire yet filled with hate, and fully intending on killing us. It pulled out a sword and Sire fell backward.

I felt my heart being ripped out as the sword...as the sword cut his head off. I felt like I would lose my mind all over again as I turned away and ran!

I wanted to die.

I'm not sure what happened next. I know I ran I know I got away, but it was on impulse and instinct alone. Because I 'woke' up in my father's cellar. Without memory of how I got there. All I could do was cry. Sire was gone. And Sire was my world. A world I didn't know I had until it was gone.

All I wanted to do was stop existing.

I felt so lost and alone. I felt more needy than I had ever felt before. I started to get angry with myself. What the HELL was wrong with me? When did I get so weak? I pushed myself off the floor wiping at my face. I wasn't going to cry anymore. At least, that's what I told myself before I collapsed back onto the floor and sobbed my heart out.

Sad and depressed I could understand. After my mother died that is when I learned that it really IS natural to cry.

This wasn't natural though. I didn't normally feel this way. I didn't normally feel so dependant on someone, at least not like this. Especially to someone that I didn't even know! It occurred to me that maybe I was MADE to feel this way. Maybe that is how they kept their...and the words began to appear in my head as the stars began to speak once more this time in a new voice, a voice filled with sadness and grief...what is the word? Childer? Is that a word? Where did that word come from?

Childer in control?

Some sort of mind control? That made sense. Because otherwise they would find themselves killed after turning someone.

I had no doubt what I was anymore. Not if the mirror was any indication. I could see behind me but I couldn't see myself. I didn't care. I didn't care anymore.

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