Chapter Text
Crash! Tim stood there frozen, staring off into the hallway whilst the broken plates laid at his feet. He paid no mind to the broken shards on the floor, he simply continued to stare. An expression of fear slowly filled his face, as he stood there motionless. Ice crawled through his veins and his breath fogged in front of him.
Just as suddenly as the irrational sense of fear filled him, it left. He snapped out of whatever trance he was in and cursed when he saw the broken plates scattered over the floor. He was quick to kneel down and collect the shards, only to stop halfway through.
He’s done this before, hasn't he? He…he remembers doing this earlier, he's sure of it. The hallway…something had happened in the hallway…His head hurt the more he thought about it, causing him to wince.
Tim looked up and over to the doorway, out into the hall just as he had done before. His mind felt as if it was turning into mush the longer he continued to stare into the darkness beyond the kitchen. His coherence began slipping from him once more, awareness of the situation drawing from his brain and being replaced with what it felt like static in his head.
Confused, Tim stood up. His hand went limp, letting go of all the ceramic shards he had collected. Once again they were scattered all over the floor. Funnily enough, they fell in the exact same places they were in before Tim picked them up.
He took a step forward, then another, then another, then another. He kept walking until he stood at the cusp of the hallway. He did not take another step. His fear came back at the thought of leaving the kitchen, as if doing so would result in him losing something precious, He does not know what.
He doesn’t know how long he stood there, staring out into the desolate hallway. Just as he was about to turn away and go back to…something, a whisper rang out into the hallway, planting him in place. It was only a whisper and yet it somehow felt louder than a scream. The whispers kept coming, drowning out his every breath in their loudness.
“Timothy Drake,” they screamed, over and over again until it was pounding in his head like a hammer.
He pauses… he knows that voice. He… he’s heard that before. He shouldn’t listen to them, he knows he shouldn’t but the pull is hypnotic. He took another step, and another, and then another. He walked all the way out of the kitchen and with every step he took, he wanted nothing more than to turn back. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t stop walking.
Eventually his body became his and again and he could move of his own free will. He turned around, he did that before didn’t he? The kitchen wasn’t there anymore, all that he was met with was wallpaper. He remembers the wallpaper, it wasn’t supposed to be there…was it? He’s sure that the house hadn’t been wallpapered in years, his mother tore it down and had it all painted or panelled. It shouldn’t be here anymore.
His head hurt.
It hurt so fucking much.
He felt like he was going to pass out from the pain.
…
…
…
…where is he?
…What was he doing? Where is he? Tim looked around, once again catching the tempting lull of the echoing whispers.
“Timothy Drake,” they screamed over and over again, until it was pounding in his head like a hammer.
He doesn’t know what compelled him to take a step forward, but he did. He kept walking. With every step he took, the colder he got.
No. He stopped. He shouldn't be walking. It didn’t work last time. it never works.
He turned around.
All he was met with was a wallpapered wall.
He felt like he was going to throw up.
It hurt.
It really hurt.
Why couldn’t he stop?
Why couldn’t the pain go away?
It really fucking hurt.
…What was he doing? Where is he? Tim looked around, once again catching the tempting lull of the echoing whispers.
“Timothy Drake,” they screamed over and over again, until it was pounding in his head like a hammer.
He didn’t like the voices. They hurt. They made him so sad. They always hid around corners, never letting him catch up to them.
Still he followed them.
He kept walking towards the ever out of reach whispers. With every step he took, the colder he got.
Wait, he's done this before, hasn't he? He’d followed the whispers before right? No, no he did. He remembers thinking about it earlier, he remembers doing it earlier.
He stops.
He turns around.
He screams.