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He didn’t remember when the nightmares started, he just knew that they never went away. At first they were more memories than anything, triggered by a patrol gone wrong or something from his time with the League. Then they turned into fears- no, not fears. Damian didn’t have any fears. They were simply...... concerns, and unwarranted thoughts.
Things such as his mother pretending not to know of him, or Grayson telling him he needed to leave, and walking away from Damian in a time of need. The worst were of Father. His horrid mind would take things his Father had said to him, real things and actions that had actually occurred, and twist them into haunting imagery. Damian learned to hate sleep.
He hated it so much that he found himself shying away from it. He forced himself into work, or would spend hours staring at a wall, depending on his mood. Sometimes Pennyworth would send him off to bed if Damian was idiotic enough to allow himself to be caught. He would stretch his last energy into the early hours of morning, eyes red and burning, struggling to stay open.
Father began to ban him from patrol, telling him that he wasn’t allowed to go out unless the bags and dark circles beneath his eyes disappeared first. Damian didn’t want to go in patrol anymore anyway. He knew he should, he knew he had to, that was how he was to earn his keep. He was Robin, when he stopped being Robin he would have to stop being a Wayne. It was a package deal. He knew all of this yet, his anger was more a show than a sincere emotion. He was simply to tired for patrol, he lacked the motivation.
He wasn’t fit to be a Wayne anyway. He never had been, he wasn’t fit to be.... anything.