Work Text:
Get it off, get it off, GET IT OFF!!!!
Dick was sure he was rubbing his skin raw, but all he could see was blood.
Blockbuster’s blood. He was dead. Dick let him die. Dick killed him!!!!!
With a shout of rage, tears blurring his vision, Dick threw the washcloth stained with blood to the side, holding up his trembling hands.
Unclean. Unclean. Unclean. His skin burned and he stumbled over to the bath, collapsing and nearly banging his head on the rim of the tub as he scrambled for the shower control, turning the shower on and turning the water as hot as he could make it.
He stripped out of his bloodstained clothes in threw them in a pile to be burned later. Throwing them away left the chance that Bruce might find them and he couldn’t.
Dick couldn’t let Bruce know what happened. Bruce couldn’t know!
He was pretty sure he was having a mental breakdown but he decided to worry about that after he’d scrubbed Blockbuster’s blood off his skin.
He stepped into the shower and cried out at the pain, but didn’t turn the water down. He deserved this. He let someone die, let Catalina touch him like that !
He grabbed a washcloth from the basket next to the shower, soaking it in soap and water and beginning to furiously, violently, scrub every inch of his skin he could reach until he was convinced the blood going down the drain was his, not Blockbuster’s.
Then he stepped out of the shower and passed out.
……………….
It became a ritual, after that. Wake up, shower and scrub his skin until it was raw and bleeding, go to work, come back, scrub, go on patrol, come back, scrub, and then the cycle started all over.
It worked well.
Until it didn’t.
It was like a switch. Dick woke up on a day he had off work, got in the shower and started scrubbing.
It didn’t work. He still felt dirty. Unclean. He started to panic, tears filling his eyes and he struggled out of the shower, staring around in desperation. He needed to bleed. He needed to see blood.
He had to pay for letting Blockbuster die. He dressed as fast as possible and rushed into the kitchen, ripping open drawers, eyes going wide when they fell on the knives.
He shouldn’t. He really really shouldn’t. Showering and scrubbing himself until he bled left no marks so no one could see. It was easier to recover than...than cutting himself.
Cutting left marks for Bruce to find and if Bruce found the marks, he’d find out why !
He’d throw him out, call him a failure! At that point, Dick may as well just kill himself.
Technically, he could kill himself now, he thought as he stared down at the knives. But he shook that thought away instantly. Dying was too easy. He’d escape his punishment too easily.
He needed to live and he needed to suffer. It was the only way to make up for standing by and letting Catalina kill Blockbuster.
Or maybe it would just be easier to start killing. Shove all his thoughts down into a box and just start offing people left and right.
Dick turned and threw up as soon as that thought crossed his mind.
So no killing. Probably best. Dick could barely tolerate letting Blockbuster die. He couldn’t imagine how he’d feel if he pulled the trigger. Wiping his mouth on his wrist and standing, eyes going right back to the knives, Dick made his choice.
He could still cut. He could still make himself suffer.
He just had to do it where no one would see.
He grabbed the blade and rolled up his sleeve.