Chapter Text
Crash! Tim stood there frozen, staring off into the hallway whilst the broken plates laid at his feet. He paid no mind to the broken shards on the floor, he simply continued to stare. An expression of fear slowly filled his face, as he stood there motionless. Ice crawled through his veins and his breath fogged in front of him.
Just as suddenly as the irrational sense of fear filled him, it left. He snapped out of whatever trance he was in and cursed when he saw the broken plates scattered over the floor. He was quick to kneel down and collect the shards, only to stop halfway through.
Tim looked up and over to the doorway, out into the hall. His mind felt scrambled as he stared once again into the darkness beyond the kitchen, He struggled to grab onto a coherent thought, it felt like all he could hear was the static in his head.
Confused, Tim stood up. His hand went limp, letting go of all the ceramic shards he had collected. Once again they were scattered all over the floor. Funnily enough, they fell in the exact same places they were in before Tim picked them up.
He took a step forward, then another, then another, then another. He kept walking until he stood at the cusp of the hallway. He did not take another step. His fear came back at the thought of leaving the kitchen, as if doing so would result in him losing something precious, He does not know what.
He doesn’t know how long he stood there, staring out into the desolate hallway. Just as he was about to turn away and go back to…something, a whisper rang out into the hallway, planting him in place. It was only a whisper and yet it somehow felt louder than a scream. The whispers kept coming, drowning out his every breath in their loudness.
“Timothy Drake,” they screamed, over and over again until it was pounding in his head like a hammer.
He doesn’t know what about them compelled him to take a step forward, but he did. He kept walking. With every step he took, the colder he got.
Eventually, he had walked out of the perceived safety of the kitchen. That realisation filled him with a petrifying type of fear, the one you can feel right down to your bones. He spun around quickly, planning to rush right back into the calming light of the kitchen. Only… when he turned around, the kitchen wasn’t there. Instead all that greeted him was a wall, wallpapered just like the rest of the house. But that’s not right…
When was the house wallpapered? It hadn’t had wallpaper on its walls yesterday… had it? His head hurt the more he tried to recall. It felt like all his thoughts and memories had been painted over with black paint. Had he hit his head…?
He thought back to earlier in the kitchen, he was doing the washing up and something had scared him? Hurt him? He wasn’t sure. He remembers a crash, had he fallen? No, No that didn’t feel right, the crash came after. There was a…
…What was he doing? Where is he? Tim looked around, once again catching the tempting lull of the echoing whispers.
“Timothy Drake,” they screamed over and over again, until it was pounding in his head like a hammer.
He doesn’t know what compelled him to take a step forward, but he did. He kept walking. With every step he took, the colder he got.
Wait… hadn’t he been here before? Hadn’t this just happened?
He paused.
He screamed.