High Expectations

CHAPTER 3

Damian woke up to the sound of birds chirping noisily. The cheerful sound was a welcome distraction from the memories that had intruded into his thoughts and dreams throughout the night. Titus stirred next to him and woke up, going over to the door and pawing to be let out. Damian slid out of bed and opened the curtains before letting the animal out and closing the door. It was still dark out, but the first rays of sun had begun to peer over the horizon. Perhaps four a.m., at the earliest. There was no purpose in going back to sleep, especially since his dreams would be fitful, as they had been all night. Never again did he want to feel this way. But there was only one thing that could prevent it from ever happening, and that was training as vigorously as he had in the past. But at the moment, there was a high possibility of waking other persons in the house if he ventured downstairs, so Damian resorted to working alone in his room. 

For two hours he trained himself, working until his muscles ached and burned and he could hardly catch his breath. He sat on the ground to rest as footsteps walked past his door, most likely going down for breakfast. After three people had walked past, someone else came by. They stopped for a moment and hesitated in front of his door, then continued on their merry way. Damian opened the door once he was certain they were gone, and walked halfway down the stairs. Everyone was in the kitchen eating breakfast, and no one had seen or heard him. Good. He stood up and turned on the television. 

"Unknown body discovered in an alley. Cameras have no footage of the murder, but coroner's reports show that the John Doe was killed by a sharp blow to the neck. Gotham city police are looking for anyone with information." Cat Grant stood in front of the crime scene, motioning at the taped in area. "If you recognize the body, please call 608-GOTHMPD." 

Damian scrambled to his feet and rushed to the restroom. He immediately became sick into the toilet, throwing up all the contents of his stomach until he was dry heaving. He leaned back against the wall and wiped away the involuntary tears that had come to his eyes. There was nothing quite like the repulsive taste of bile in one's throat. The after taste alone turned his stomach, and he quickly stood and reached for the mouthwash. The ground seemed to move underneath him, and the walls wavered, making it nearly impossible to keep balance. He would have fallen flat on his face, had he not grabbed hold of the sink and used it to keep his body upright. In the mirror, Damian caught a glimpse of his face. His eyes were slightly red, with deep bags under them which caused his face to look gaunt. Even to his own eyes, he looked terrible. His salivary glands were swollen, but there was not much he could do concerning that matter. If truth be told, he didn't want to do anything other than lay down and hope the nightmares and nausea would go away. But that would cause his family to worry. No, the best he could do was to freshen up and go downstairs to greet them. 

Water splattered onto the marble sink as Damian scrubbed his face, trying to get the smell of vomit off his skin. Finally he deemed himself presentable enough to go downstairs and join the family. 

Damian gingerly trotted down the stairs and past the kitchen. Unless he wished to vomit again, it would be best to avoid food for a while, even if his last meal had been before patrol last night. He'd gone longer without food, and an occasional fast was good for the body. Besides, Pennyworth would likely be in the kitchen, and he'd be certain to ask questions, and maybe notice Damian's slightly pale complexion. It was definitely best to avoid people today. 

"Hey Damian!" 

It would be hard to avoid people today