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    Summary

    Robin doesn’t understand. He turns, and if his hand passing right through his mamá’s didn’t cause him to lose it, then seeing his body lying in a hospital bed does it. His head is wrapped in bandages, and he’s hooked up to monitors with tubes in his mouth and nose. His eyes are swollen shut, and his skin is blue and purple with dark bruises. He almost doesn’t recognize himself.

    “Chingada madre,” he says, panic whipping through him. “¡Estoy muerto! I’m fucking dead!” He paces around the room, his hands on his head.

    Or, Robin doesn’t die…but he’s not unscathed. Some things stay the same, but so much is different.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    44,925
    Chapters:
    20/29
    Comments:
    103
    Kudos:
    93
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    17
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