Nat Lust's Journal

Fear and Manipulation, two things you don't have. Sarcasm and Wit, I have. XD

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Darker Shadows
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          Tim sat up in bed. He was sweating and sticky, a nightmare had interrupted his sleep again. That was the third time tonight. Something must be bothering him, he just needed to pinpoint what. It was six a.m. Too early for him. He tossed the sheets sticking to his body aside and swung out of the over-sized bed. Bruce had great taste in furniture but Tim's bed was a little large for the smaller teen.
          Tim scooted free of the mattress and softly padded to his door. He knew the case he worked that night wasn't the cause of his distress. It had been a simple drug bust. Nothing frightening or disturbing in the least. The teen opened his bedroom door and proceeded to walk to halls of stately Wayne Manor. The carpet was soft under his bare feet. The dark casting darker shadows across the floors and walls.
          He found his legs stopping in front of Bruce's door. He turned his eyes up and peered at the intricate carvings surrounding the door's frame. Tim turned and headed back to his bed. Bruce would likely do far worse than murder him if he woke the Bat up for something so trivial. He couldn't get the itch out of the center of his back though. He curled under the covers once again, drifting off. 
          His dream was painful. Not in every sense of the word. The was nothing there. It was just a blindingly bright light. It hurt to look at it, look away from it, or shield his eyes. It was the classic tunnel vision, only the light wasn't getting closer or moving away. A sharp pain stabbed into his side and twisted. He flinched and covered the tender area. He looked down to see blood covering his hand. It was pouring out of his body at a rapid speed that caused panic to rise.
            Tim jolted awake and clutched at his side. There was blood leaking through his fingers. Not the amount that was in his dream but he was wounded all the same. He pulled his aching body of the bed and into his bathroom. Carefully lifting his night shirt to see what was causing his pain. There was a small cut above his hip bone. Slicing his skin lightly but deep. The hollow of his hip was what was bleeding so profusely. He glared at the cut and  bandaged it tightly. He then tromped to his bed and ripped the covers free. There lying in a stain of blood was the batarang he kept under his pillow. Why was he holding it in the first place? He didn't care any longer. He picked the blade up and stashed it back under his pillow. Alfred was going to string him up for staining the crisp white sheets. Alfred would be up, it was seven thirty. Bruce wouldn't be awake yet. Tim looked at his stained night shirt as well. Better go talk to Alfred. 
 


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