mitsulov

[mitsulov]

Chapter 1: A New Beginning(?)

Trigger Warnings include: Depression, Suicidal thoughts / ideation, Mental health struggles, Family issues, Emotional manipulation, Violence (mild to moderate), Blood (brief mention), Strong language.

“This building is far too small for a suicide attempt, kid. At most, you'll end up with a few broken bones.”

The voice belonged to a woman with long white hair streaked with black, an eyepatch covering her right eye. She stood with her arms crossed, wearing a tight black and red outfit, staring straight at you with an intensity that made you shiver and furrow your brows. But before you could speak, she interrupted you.

“The name’s Rose Wilson. And I’ve got an offer for you. If you listen, it might just change your life.”

Years passed.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, retouching the dye on the left side of your hair—pure white. In the reflection, you saw Rose walking into the bathroom.

“For Christ’s sake, [name]! Every single time with this. Slade’s going to be back any minute, and you’re still at it!”

You rolled your eyes. You knew your mentor wouldn’t care. When he said he’d arrive at a certain time, it usually meant he’d be at least four hours late. Typical.

Placing the dyed section of your hair in the sink, you turned on the faucet to rinse it. That made Rose freak out.

“What the hell—no! Not in the sink—”

“Don’t worry,” you cut her off calmly while washing. “I’ll clean it up. Like I always do.”

After rinsing your hair, you grabbed the hairdryer. You could hear Rose leaving the room, muttering about how stubborn you were. You chuckled quietly to yourself.

Once your hair was dry, the sink cleaned, and your look finalized, you headed off to change. You chose something casual: a tank top, cargo pants, a leather belt, and combat boots.

Admiring yourself briefly in the mirror, you suddenly felt a presence behind you. Instinctively, you launched a front kick at the figure. A hand caught your foot—not without effort—and you recognized your mentor, Slade.

“You’re improving. But now’s not the time to fight.”

“Sorry, reflex.” You laughed awkwardly, lowering your leg and straightening up

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go. I’m on a tight schedule.” His tone made his impatience clear.

Where were you heading? Therapy, of course. Where else?

Nothing escapes Cassandra’s eyes.

She’d noticed Jason disappearing more and more around the mansion. He wasn’t in the library, nor his old room. It wasn’t something recent—this had been going on long before she’d joined the family.

One day, she quietly followed him, watching from a distance and choosing to confront him only after she knew where he was going.

He led her to the hallway where the four guest rooms were located—a section rarely cleaned, filled with cobwebs and layers of dust.

She saw him enter one of the rooms and slowly approached, opening the door carefully. Inside was a small room with faded walls, a neatly made bed, a shelf crammed with trophies of all kinds, and a small wardrobe.

Sitting on the bed, Jason was gently cleaning a first-place trophy. Cassandra had never seen him look so… vulnerable. So sad.

“Are all of those... yours?” she gestured toward the trophies.

Jason sighed, clearly aware she’d been following him, but for some reason, hadn’t stopped her.

“No. They belong to someone special…”

Cassandra tilted her head, puzzled. She wanted to ask who—but Jason spoke before she could.

“Come here. I’ll answer all your questions.” He patted the bed beside him, and she obeyed, sitting down, curiosity sparking in her eyes.

“Can you tell me who this special person is?”

Jason scoffed softly, but continued.

“Damian’s not Bruce’s first child. Bruce has a kid from his first marriage. Their name is [name].”

Cassandra’s eyes widened in shock. Bruce had never mentioned this. Not once.

Jason went on.

“You probably don’t know because Bruce avoids talking about it. I only know because I grew up with [name]...”

Cass began connecting the dots but sensed it went deeper. She kept listening.

“[Name] worked so hard to be recognized. But Bruce never even looked their way...” Jason gripped the trophy in his hands—not hard enough to break it, but firm enough that Cass noticed his anger.

“Even so... [name] was special. They’re my younger sibling. And I’m going to bring them back.”

“What happened to [name]?” Cass asked the question despite the fear in her chest.

Jason hesitated, then spoke.

“They disappeared. After I died... they vanished. No body, no trail. That’s why I believe they’re still alive. And I’m going to find them.”

Cass saw the fire in his eyes. She’d never seen Jason so determined—not even when he went after the Joker.

She couldn’t help but wonder what [name] was like. Would they accept her as a sister? Would they be someone special to her too?

“Just... don’t tell anyone about this. Especially Bruce. Please.”

Cass was surprised by his plea, but nodded without hesitation. If needed, she’d help Jason in his search—no matter what.

I wish I had made it longer😫, but besides my creativity having gone out the window🥲, I have so many mock exams to do😒, my brain is toast😭.

[mitsulov]

Hi everyone!!

Well, I came to ask for your opinion!

I'm going to add some OC characters to the story—about four, I think—and I wanted to know if you’d like me to introduce them beforehand, so you won’t get confused when reading the next chapters I’m writing...

[mitsulov]

Prologue – Cold Night

Content Warnings / Trigger Warnings:Themes of suicidal ideEmotional neglect and parental absenceBullying, including by authority figuresGrief, loss of a parent, and traumaMild violence and verbal aggressionFeelings of abandonment, isolation, and worthlessness.

Have you ever wondered if, in a past life, you did something so unforgivable that the echoes of that guilt still haunt you? As if they were shadows silently following you, existence after existence. Because, really, what else could explain the chaos that insists on surrounding you?

No matter how much you try to prove you're someone worthy — what you get in return is humiliation, contempt, and violence. Without pity. Without mercy. Ironic, isn't it? To be so fragile, so insignificant, that you're now here — standing on top of an abandoned building, staring into the void, the cold wind whispering promises of relief.

Your mother... was Bruce Wayne’s wife. She died giving birth to a child. [Name] Wayne. Yes, you. A baby that might have been something special, a spark of hope in this gray world. But you grew up — not in a warm home like fairy tales promise, but surrounded by the cold, endless halls of Wayne Manor, where silence weighed more than the marble stairs.

Your relationship with your father? None. How do you relate to someone who was never present? Who never offered a glance, a word, a presence? You tried. You were kind, studious, hardworking. But he was just a figure in the mansion's portraits and on newspaper covers. Alfred said Bruce was still mourning. That you should be patient. That he loved you — he just didn’t know how to show it. (It would’ve been more honest to say hated you. At least that wouldn’t raise false hopes.)

Then came Richard. Dick, to those close — not to you. You were four when he arrived. Your memories are blurry, except for one: the day he, in a fit of rage, threw your embroidered handkerchief — the only gift your mother had left you — into the fireplace. You tried to run to the fire, crying desperately, but Alfred stopped you. Later, he asked you to forgive Richard. Said he was confused, still grieving the loss of his own parents. You tried to understand... but from that day on, you avoided him. You were afraid. Afraid that next time, it would be you tossed into the flames.

Jason. Jajay, as you called him. When Bruce brought him in, you feared he would be like Dick — cruel. But Jason was different. Within days, he became your real brother. He read to you at night, cooked with you, shared secrets. And the greatest of all? Your brother was Robin. It was like living a dream. For the first time, you believed things could finally be okay. Until, one day... he didn’t come back. Alfred said he’d gone to a better place. (But then why did everything feel so much darker?)

Then came Tim. But you felt no affection for him. You barely spoke. Sometimes, you'd see him at breakfast, but he wouldn’t even look at you. And deep down, you despised him. He wore the Robin mantle as if it were his. (But Jason... Jason was supposed to come back one day, wasn’t he? And how would he feel seeing someone else wearing what was his?) Other than that, Tim was just another shadow among many.

Even though you were the best in class, always striving for top grades, the example student — you were the target of bullying from everyone at school, even the teachers. Maybe because you never introduced yourself as a Wayne. Maybe because your father never showed up for parent meetings. You had no one. And the only person who ever truly mattered to you... was gone...

So why stay alive?

Now you're here. One step from the end. The wind lashes your skin. Just one second, and everything disappears.

But then... a voice.

An adult’s voice. A woman’s.

You turn slowly. Stare at the one who dared to interrupt your final decision.

Hello😃! This is my first post, I wanted to post it earlier😕, but I procrastinated as much as possible🤓, but well, I apologize if it's bad or if there are any English mistakes, since English is not my first language🥲, depending on my creativity, I may post the next part this week😙.