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Summary
Most of Damian’s memories from the League have blurred together over the years. There wasn’t much to remember aside from the blood, sweat, and bruises– the taste of iron always lingering at the back of his throat. He remembers days spent collapsing onto the cold stone floors, lips kissing the dirt on the ground, too exhausted to remain upright, only to be dragged to his feet before he’d caught his breath again and again.
Training was never meant to be kind– it was meant to make him stronger. His tutors weren’t affectionate, their only goal was to measure his success, to discipline him– to teach him mercy was a weakness. Comfort did not exist.
Until Raif.
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A case brings back memories and someone Damian has tried so desperately to forget.
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Bookmark Notes:
I was then shot 23 times that day
😭