Chapter Text
Jason knew he was a scrawny kid but he was never the type to stand by while someone was in trouble even if he’d be the one who gets hurt at least the victim could get away. Though too often than not he has to come home with split lip and black eye because he decided to stand up for someone. It’s not like he could expect to find help with his injuries at home. He could probably only expect more bruises from dad as he takes his beatings for mom who’s drugged up to her eyes...again.
Life wasn’t always so hopeless for Jason. He remembered a time he was able to go to school and his mother was still lucid enough to go to work at that Italian restaurant. Sometimes she was allowed to bring some the food from work back home. He loved the bread sticks and pasta. Having that now is a luxury. Food is scarce since nobody has an actual job anymore. His dad is just digging them into debt with his gambling and other dirty dealings with the other scum of the streets. And as for his mother, well she needs her medicine. If he didn’t do something soon about their situation they’d all be dead.
That’s just what happened He swallowed his pride and looked for favors to do for measly spare change. Some people felt that just because he was a kid he didn’t need money, so they would give him enough to buy a candy bar. They just assumed his parents wouldn’t give him an allowance. They guessed he’s only looking for ways to get money to save for a dumb toy or something, Normal kid stuff. Some would give him a weird look, what was a tiny child doing knocking on stranger’s doors for? For those people he’d run before they get the chance to think a second thought.
He would save what he made for emergency. But in their household fueling addictions, and paying off the angry debt collector for a few more days is an emergency. Far too often his hard earned savings amounted to zero. Sure maybe he could have used it to get a new jacket, but no nothing. Sure it frustrated him to no end. He had even tried to hide it in his clothing though as soon as he took them off the money was gone. Besides walking with coins in your sneakers hurt and made a quick getaway difficult.
The reason he didn’t just run away from crime alley and never looked back was because of his mother. He loved her since she was the only person in the world that cared about the tiny runt Jason Todd. He remembered when she used take him out to the park. He would ask to play ball with the other kids and they would joke about his size a bit before he’d prove himself by weaving in, out, over, between, and behind them making the goal of whatever game they decided to play that day.
He was quick on his feet and sometimes surprisingly strong to the other boys. He was a runt often making them underestimate him. He’d use that to his advantage. When they thought he’d be the easiest to take out he’d slip right by them before they knew what hit them. He loved the sight of their absolutely stunned expressions as he scores another point. When he was knocked down he’d spring to his feet again, playing harder than before. After a couple rounds they realize he’d be force to be reckoned with.
They would always try new games to find something that they wouldn’t lose so horribly against him. When they picked teams they’d always try to pick him first. That was probably the closest he had to friends. Though nowadays the park is dangerous he hears there’s a crazy lady that uses plants that eat kids like him. Not that he’s scared he’s already got enough stuff going on and he had no desire to be devoured by a daisy any day. Anyway the other kids don’t really go to that park anyway, thanks to her.
He remembered when enjoying the trips to the museums with his mom. He remembers his mom especially liking the art museums. They could be boring sometimes, though he would be lying if he didn’t acknowledge there was something pleasant about the silence and lavishly decorated halls with grand tapestry illustrating the great Greek tragedies the hero sometimes triumphant against monsters. He had to admit he was impressed with Artisan crafted furniture including lion headed table legs to a vanity with a scene of the Garden of Eden shaped in gold the various furniture was strewn about to get a good look at it. He felt a bit like a prince strolling down the various art exhibits. There was no way he could ever have anything like this but he dares to dream.
What he liked the most were the natural history museum because of the realistic model T-rex. He also liked the museum of aeronautics that had planes and helicopters hanging from the ceiling. His favorite was wonder woman’s invisible jet. He wasn’t sure if it was really there but if not then the people who worked at the museum seemed to really like wiping the air. The thought was funny to him. Imagine being asked to clean literally nothing with mop and rags to keep up the image of wonder woman’s jet being featured in the museum. He’s sure wonder woman wouldn’t give up such a cool aircraft to this place to collect dust, though on the other hand she can fly so maybe she could?
Now when his mom stopped being able to come with him, he doesn’t really want to go anymore. He looks too unkempt and dirty, suspiciously like the type that would steal or break something there. Kids like him wouldn’t hang out in a museum for any other reasons than to cause trouble. That paired with no adult accompanying made the security guards distrustful of him at the very least.
When the museum is packed with tourist he would get trampled. When the museum was empty it’s lonely. The security guards that weren’t wary of him felt concern. They would be constantly bugging him about where his parents were. He was a child after all and museum is really big and easy to get lost in. When he dismissed them they would always be following him. The ones lingering for longer acted as his escort around the museum either out of concern or to make sure he thought twice before starting trouble. One tried to start a conversation with him but gave up after a few mumbled responses, seeing that he really didn’t want to talk.
He could understand the reason for the guard’s apprehension. The museum was a favorite place of cat woman, a skilled thief that stole anything of value from the museums. She mostly stole jewelry or something small from them, since anything big would slow down an escape. Her antics led to heighten security meaning he can’t go in anymore with being labeled a security risk.
He didn’t like home There used to be just enough food in the cupboards to have a meager meal and they had a kitchen that was not completely barren. Maybe there was a time he got to play with a couple of other kids kicking around a ball instead of getting his head kicked in by other street kids.
He only ever wishes be could run away and never look back, but his mom…he won’t, can’t leave her with his dad. His dad is the reason that everything is awful. Even if he didn’t have to worry about his mom didn’t have anywhere to go. Nobody cares about a dumb little street runt.
As his life got more rotten. Before he dropped out he would start to hide away in the school library. None of the bad things could bother him there. The Librarian was nice; she never tried to kick him out. She would always talk about how kids aren’t too interested in reading for fun anymore and how most people who came to the library were the older kids who needed to do research and they rarely would pick up any of the fiction books and the young kids who came to the library would make too much noise and would either lose or returned the books in awful condition.
At first she thought Jason was trouble. He looked like one of those kids that would always get into fight (which he did) and scream up a storm, but he would just come in and hide in the shelves without a sound. He would pull out a few books, look at the cover, and put them back in. He’s either indecisive or couldn’t read. At first he’d flick through the picture books and find his place in the furthest corner of the library. He would be hiding the books he picked out under his ratty worn jacket, like he didn’t want anybody to know what he picked out. His selections were harmless many picture books became simple beginner reading books moving on to more advanced reading material.
It brought a smile to her face when the boy came to her to ask what a certain word meant. When she gave him an answer the boy would try to sound it out. Weighing the syllables on his tongue before integrating it into his vocabulary. It made her proud to see the boy use the words in a sentence.
Sometimes the boy would indulge in comics. It brought a smile to her face when she heard the boy silently gasp at something in the story or would try to stifle a giggle. Then his mother would come to pick him up always telling him he’s supposed to come home and how worried she was when he was late.
The boy would hug her tight and hold her hand when she leads him back home always asking if he wants to take a book home he would shake his head no. “It’s fine mama I can come back and read the rest tomorrow” the librarian could see in his eyes that he really wanted to take the book home, he was probably just worries about losing it at home. He is a rambunctious little boy after all, even if he’d already proven to be very careful with the books.
At some point he began to come everyday to the library and staying until it closed sometimes even needing to be asked to leave. She notices how his mother would come to pick him up less and less to the point that she’d stopped coming. She would feel bad and let him stay for a few extra hours to talk about the books he’s been reading. When she asked where his mother was the boy would just say that she’s busy with work. He would just put his head back in the book before she could ask more questions about it. She won’t push him if he doesn’t want to talk.
She tells him that he can take the books out if he takes care of them. His eyes would glimmer ever so slightly at the thought, but he just puts them back in the correct shelves in the end. He’s sure if he takes them he won’t be able to return them since his home isn’t really the safest place to keep things. Besides he likes the library it felt like the closest thing to safe. She would joke that he’d make a good librarian someday he would sadly smile and thank her for letting him stay for a bit longer and leaves.
He hates coming home. He hates that there’s never anything to eat. He hates that something in their already mostly barren apartment can always be missing. They would sell his mattress or their busted microwave to get a few bucks. He hates that his dad uses the money to get drunk and beats them up with his lowered inhibitions. He hates that he never apologizes for hurting him and his mom when he’s out of control. He hates that his mom feels so hopeless that she resorted to drugs to get her away from this crummy life they live. He hates that he doesn’t have money to get food for the third day in a row because it was stolen, it’s always fucking stolen. He wishes his rotten dad would disappear forever instead of constantly coming back and ragging them for money for his fucking debt.
He wishes to have his mom back. He wishes her eyes weren’t so cloudy with hopelessness and dangerous combinations of drugs. He wishes he could have her before she ever tried to hide her addiction from her son. Before her addiction reached the point that it was so obvious she was high when she couldn’t muster the energy to get herself out of bed, while heroine needle were shoddily hidden behind dressers, before she wasn’t even lucid enough to recognize his face as pill bottles rolled about out of her fingers. Before when she could actually try to stop because she cared. He wishes she still cared, because it didn’t feel much like she did anymore.
She used to try to protect him from his dad when he came in raging drunk cursing at world. Back then Jason would be hidden away his mom telling him to cover his ears and look away. Back then he would jump at every loud sound that was a strike to his mother as she cried out. Back then he’d nearly cry when he saw his mom sporting new bruises.
“Momma why can’t we leave?” his voice quivered
“I’m sorry Jason but we have nowhere else to go” she was going to cry he didn’t want to make his mother cry “I’m sorry Jason I’m so so sorry” she crouched to the ground and hugged her son. She couldn’t hold herself together in front of her son anymore. She used to pet his hair a soothing gesture only serving to break his heart a little bit more.
He promised himself he would be strong for his mom “Don’t worry momma I’ll-I’ll make s-sure we’ll b-be okay s-someday” his breath hitched trying his best not to cry. He was just a boy barely 8 years old yet. He’s so small he looked 5. He was willing to do anything turn this situation around. He will find a way to get money no matter what; his heart dreamed they’d live like kings someday.
The thought of that only made her more despondent. He shouldn’t ever have to do that. He shouldn’t have to miss school to make sure the loan sharks don’t kill the only person who ever cared about him. He shouldn’t have to pickpocket to eat. A seven year old boy shouldn’t be beaten up in an alley with cuts and bruises with no way to fix it because they’re too damn poor to afford any kind of medical supplies or treatment.
His mom just tried to rinse the cuts under the tap “oh Jason what happened?”
“A lady was gonna get mugged or worse she coulda been ra-”
“Jason please,” her voice cracked “don’t you could have been seriously hurt or worse”
“sorry mama I won’t do it again” that was a lie he couldn’t stop himself from coming to the rescue he just couldn’t stand to see the innocent get hurt. Watching brutes intentionally hurt a woman or child made his blood boil. The fact his father is one of those brutes only made him angrier.
“Jason I’m sorry please you’re a kind sweet boy I just god I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you” she sobbed “don’t ever change just be careful”
“Okay mamma” he whispered hoarsely as he rubbed circles into her back doing his best to calm her down. He swallowed down his emotions he needed to be strong.
“Always wearing your heart on your sleeve,” she mumbled to herself but he could hear it clearly “I’m sorry you get hurt like this you deserve better I’m sorry” She felt guilty for leaving her son to deal with their misfortune and getting high instead of trying harder for him. She felt awful that she couldn’t even protect him from his own father anymore.
It was a shitty irreversible cycle. She was depressed she took medication. The medication cost money, when they were already scraping by. Life only seemed to get worse so she got more depressed so she took more medication. The medication stopped working so she moved on to new meds the new meds were more expensive they barely had the money but she needed it when the debts stacked when dad starts drinking he gets angry she got more beatings. The days get bleaker more meds and those lose their effect but no longer having them only brings more misery. So she keeps taking them. The tolerance gets so high that stronger ‘medications’ are needed to combat the pain of the first medication caused. She couldn’t quit stopping was too painful to the point that she needed absolute numbness to stop all pain, but the numbness only last for a short while
That eight-nearly-nine-year-old boy shouldn’t have to come home to his mother choking on her own vomit, as her skin grows cold and her long been lifeless eyes stare blankly at the wall behind him. He shouldn’t have to bury his mother with a tiny grave marker because they didn’t have the money for a proper headstone. He shouldn’t he crying all alone in a cemetery throughout the middle of the night because he had nowhere else to go.
When his mom was gone there was no point in sticking around for his dad’s ‘debt collectors’ to come kill him. No thanks he’s way better off on his own on the streets. Well he’s kind of been living off it for a while before his mom died but now he’s out of empty apartment for good.