(Robin) Warning: this chapter contains depictions of blood and anxiety. 

Voices, so many voices filled his head of every little thing that was wrong. The voices said things about him, but he couldn't hear them but they were also blindingly clear. As they got louder and louder, Robin covered his ears with his hands. Blood seeped out of his ears, coating his hands in the liquid. He screamed, but it was soon muffled by the Voices. He opened his eyes, his arms and hands were covered in scars. So many of them that, there was barely any space left for more. A headache bit through his barely audible thoughts, pericing what was left of his sanity. The voices closed in on him, scratching at his throat and limbs. 

Robin's eyes snapped open, he shivered as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He glanced at his bedside clock, it read 12;02. 

"Midnight again, well there goes my chances of getting a full night's rest" he grumbled to himself. 

He dragged his tired bones out of the mattress he was sleeping on, sence he didn't have his bedframe yet. Robin tiptoed down the stairs, because if he woke Rose up, she would definetly kick him out. He huffed to himself, if he got kicked out again, Robin would definetly end up in an orphanage. He shuddered, he never wanted to go back to that place again. 

Robin climbed up onto the counter to grab a mug from the top self. He pused for a moment, recalling when Casey asked if he needed help. He smiled to himself, because no one had asked him that before. Everyone seemed to assume that he could take care of himself, but when it came to things that needed tall people, he would have to admit defeat. 

He hummed to himself while he poured the hot water for his tea. Robin dispised coffe, and he still needed to be at least half awake, so he ended up sticking with tea most of the time. 

Robin leaned against the counter as he waited for his tea to steep. His eyes caught something silver on the countertop. He walked forward a bit, courious to see what it was. Robin stopped dead when he finally saw what it was: a knife

He dropped to his knees as the pain and mermories came flooding back, Robin's eyes glistened with fresh tears. His scars itched, as if reminding him of the past. He cradled his head in his hands: 

"It's okay, it's okay they won't hurt you anymore, you're okay, it's gonna be okay." Robin whispered to himself over and over until he believed it for a bit. He exhaled as he leaned into the coupboard behind him, then he remembered his tea. 

"Crap! I over steeped it!" he hoisted himself off the kitchen floor, grabbing the mug off the countertop. Robin didn't like too much flavor in his tea, so he liked to steep it for less then recomended. He blew off the steam that had formed on his tea, heading over to the kitchen table. He said down with a little humph, resting his head against the back of the chair. Robin thought of the day's past events, Casey, his panic attack and the garden. His heart ached at the thought of her, he missed her more than usual. 

"Mom, i miss you....I'm sorry i haven't visited your grave more often, i've been preoccoupied with other things. So you understand, right? Robin whispered to no one in particular. He sounded crazy, he thought. 

"I'm sorry, mom....." the rest of his words turned into sobs. 

 Robin spent the rest of that night crying silently to his mother, who he though wasn't listening, But in fact, she was.