( at some point during the scuffle, marthaโs one hand drops away from bruceโs face and ends up around his neck. tight. choking him there while damian moves about behind her.
it's ok, darling. you can rest now. mother's here. remember like we used to when you were little? except this is more like a permanent attempt at sleep rather than tucking him into bed for the night.
bruce brings a hand of his own up and claps it around marthaโs wrist in an attempt to pry it off his neck, but. heโs unable to. maybe he doesnโt really want to. feeling as though he deserves this. the way martha looks to him as she continues to choke himโฆ her face twists into something a little more sinister โ blood dripping suddenly from the gunshot wound she wears from the night of her murder.
thatโs when he sees damian squeeze himself between them then. gasping for air while fingers still hold tight to her wrist there at his neck. martha continues to strangle him for as long as she can and bruceโs eyes begin to roll back a little before damian is finally able to separate them with his kick and she releases her hold on bruce., possibly scratching at damianโs face some as she does.
a hand goes up to clutch his own neck, air struggling to come back to him as he drops down, overwhelmed with about five or six different things at once and heโs gasping for breath, fingers of his other hand curling into a fist that presses there against the floor. he searches for damian โ sees the way his mother stands with the blood running down her.
why canโt you protect us, bruce? why canโt you protect the people you love the most? why do you let us all die? me, your father, alfred, your son. no matter how hard you try, we always die. why, bruce? why canโt you save us?
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it's ok, darling. you can rest now. mother's here. remember like we used to when you were little? except this is more like a permanent attempt at sleep rather than tucking him into bed for the night.
bruce brings a hand of his own up and claps it around marthaโs wrist in an attempt to pry it off his neck, but. heโs unable to. maybe he doesnโt really want to. feeling as though he deserves this. the way martha looks to him as she continues to choke himโฆ her face twists into something a little more sinister โ blood dripping suddenly from the gunshot wound she wears from the night of her murder.
thatโs when he sees damian squeeze himself between them then. gasping for air while fingers still hold tight to her wrist there at his neck. martha continues to strangle him for as long as she can and bruceโs eyes begin to roll back a little before damian is finally able to separate them with his kick and she releases her hold on bruce., possibly scratching at damianโs face some as she does.
a hand goes up to clutch his own neck, air struggling to come back to him as he drops down, overwhelmed with about five or six different things at once and heโs gasping for breath, fingers of his other hand curling into a fist that presses there against the floor. he searches for damian โ sees the way his mother stands with the blood running down her.
why canโt you protect us, bruce? why canโt you protect the people you love the most? why do you let us all die? me, your father, alfred, your son. no matter how hard you try, we always die. why, bruce? why canโt you save us?
and she lunges for a distraught bruce again. )