Living life as a kid is probably the biggest piece of luxury that anyone could ever get, taxes don't exist, food is always ready for you on the table, when consequences meant just being banned from the living room to watch cartoons or playing on the family shared desktop computer, and most important of all…loving parents….
I still remember that day ... .playing over my memories over and over again…didn't matter what i tried…it was as if trying to erase stitch marks from your skin…
I was sitting on the rug across our living room, my crayons were a messy spread of rainbow colours across the floor. At the time, my fingers had red smudges on them from gripping my crayon too hard when I was working on my picture-our picture. Standing in front of our apartment door were me, mom, and dad, heck, I even remember I drew a crooked "4B" above the peephole. My mom didn't like it too much, she said it made our door looked cheap, but I liked it. It made it ours.
"Lucas, don't sit too close to the TV honey. your eyes will get tired!," my mom called out from the kitchen sounding tired, like she always does.
"but mommy, it's not even on!" I yelled back, come to think of it, I probably didn't really think about how that sounded properly.
"Don't yell at me, young man," my mom shot back, sharp as the clattering noises from the dishes she was washing that night.
I remember wincing, not because I was scared-it's because my dad told me she was all bark, in all fairness to my kid version i was telling the truth at the time.
Our TV screen was off with only a reflection of my drawing appearing on the dusty surface. I wasn't really a big fan of watching the news back then, too many scary things happening-missing people especially. It gave me the creeps, ominous questions like what if someone tried to take me and then I ended up missing? just like those people i saw in the news that my mom and dad watched at night after tucking me in bed. 'No, dad won't let that happen, not on his watch,' my naive thought reassured me.
And as if he heard his cues, my dad came back home, "Daddy!" i Jumped on my feet, running up to him bringing a silly grin on my face with me before giving the biggest hug my little arms could give to his waist. My dad gave me a chuckle, welcoming me in his arms by our doorstep.
"Hey there, little buddy!" my dad picked me up, ruffling my hair as he stepped inside our apartment. Muddy footprints of his shoes were staining the carpet and his brown leather jacket was worn out, and of course lined with sweat coming home from work, but I couldn't care less. This was my dad we're talking about.
"Did you bring me anything?" I asked, looking up at him with a big, toothy grin.
"Heh," He laughed. "wish i could be made out of money, Buuttt-" His hand reached into his jacket, and from it, came out a mini soldier figure, i looked at it in awe before looking at my dad who nodded at me to take it.
It's paint on the uniform and the gun was a little chipped on the edges but who cares? It was perfect.
"Thanks daddy!" I gave him another hug as he put me down, I ran back towards my drawing with our very own new protector in tow.
"Honey, have you washed your hands?" My mom asked as she walked into the hallway, drying her hands with a dish tower. Her brown tresses were tied into a ponytail and she was wearing slippers.
"yup yup, gimme a sec honey" my dad responded, picking up the muddy stained carpet as he made his way in, leaving his muddy boots behind him as they shared a kiss.
"Another long day huh?"
"..." my dad sighed, "...yeah.."
I sat back down, continuing coloring my pictures by the living room. Meanwhile, dad and mom sat together by the couch right behind me, his spirit was not very upbeat, but something was definitely different. I wasn't any the wiser at the time, my mom however, who was very observant, noticed.
"Brad…." my mom said softly, "i hate asking you this…but did you…?" My dad looked at her, immediately noticing what she meant by her phrasing and could only drop his head on both of his hands helplessly.
"yeah…" confirming my mom's worries as he looked up to her with a defeated look in his eyes. "they fired me joe…"
i have never saw my dad that defeated before, there were a lot of moments that my dad had made a similar look, but this was the first time i had seen him so…helpless, i watched them out of the reflection on the TV screen right in front of me, by then, i had already finished my drawing but looking at my mom comforting my dad with that soft look she had in her eyes as my dad just buried his head between his head made me hesitant to intrude.
"I just…I just don't know what else to do joe…" my dad said, "rent is due in two weeks, our insurance is expiring, i just…" my dad sighed in defeat as my mom comforted him.
"it's alright…" my mom shushed him softly, rubbing her hands on my dad's back gently. "we'll figure it out..ok?" she smiled gently as my dad just nodded, his head still buried between his hands, "we always do,"
Mom then looked at me, she stood up and walked towards me before giving me some headpats, "Lucas, go wash up with daddy ok? dinner is almost ready"
Dinner that night was boxed mac and cheese with sliced hot dogs stirred in, my favorite, but I couldn't taste much. I remembered the tension in the room was thicker than the cheese. My mom took the plates to the kitchen while my dad's attention was glued to the flickering news broadcast on the TV like it might swallow him whole.
"They say another girl went missing. Gotham Heights this time," My mom said, not even bothering to mask the edge in her voice.
My dad grunted. "They still blaming the Bat?"
"You know how people talk," she said, her tone already sounding like she's shrugging her shoulders, "While half if not more of this city thinks he's a hero, the rest thinks he's a monster."
I looked between them, "Does Batman eat people?"
Their laughter came fast, sharp—almost as a relief, like someone had opened a window in a smoke-filled room. Mom reached over and tousled my hair, her hand warm and trembling.
"No, baby. He's not a monster."
"He's scary though," I said. "But maybe the good kind of scary. Like Superman, but... darker."
My dad's eyes stayed locked on the TV. "Superman's not from around here. Gotham doesn't get saviors in red capes. We get shadows."
I didn't understand what he meant by that back then, if only I understood what he meant by that sooner.
That night, sleep wouldn't come. I tossed and turned, the sheets clinging to my legs like wet laundry. The city outside felt off. Not loud in the usual way—no drunk shouting or police sirens—just... waiting like the whole city was holding its breath.
I crept to the window, dragging my bear along by one paw. Pressed my forehead to the glass. Gotham's skyline shimmered in the haze, broken windows blinking like tired eyes.
Then something moved—fast, a blur of metal and smoke slicing through the sky. Not a bird, not a plane. It had glowing red eyes. Horns. Cables and metal that writhed like muscle. I couldn't look away.
My heart hammered. "What..."
And then it slammed into the building across the street—shattered stone, sparks flying—and another shape dove after it. Black, winged. Flowing cape. The Bat.
I stumbled back, breath caught in my throat.
The window cracked with a sound like a gunshot.
I screamed.
My mom burst within my room a snap of a finger later, her hair was messed up and her slippers were skidding on the floor. "Lucas, what is going on, are you alright?!"
She didn't need an answer. She saw the spider web fracture in the glass, the dark blur vanishing into the sky.
"Brad!" she yelled. "Get in here now!"
My dad ran in, eyes wild. "What the hell is going on—?"
"Something hit the window," she snapped, pointing. "He said he saw Batman!"
"And something else!" I added, clutching my bear. "It had horns—red eyes—it looked like a monster!"
My dad didn't waste time, he immediately walked to my window in seconds. One look outside and all the color drained from his face. "Joe. Get the tape. Board it up."
We didn't get any sleep. To be more precise, we couldn't. The news switched to emergency broadcast mode. No more anchors—just scrolling text and static. They had a name for the creatures now: parademons.
People were being taken. Whole blocks, gone.
I sat on the couch, legs pulled to my chest, while Mom and Dad whispered in the kitchen like the walls had ears.
"We need to leave," My mom said.
"And go where? It's the same everywhere. Metropolis. Coast City. Even Smallville's on fire."
Dad's hand hovered near the gun on the table. I'd never seen it out before. Never seen that look in his eyes. Cold. Final.
The next scream wasn't from the TV.
It was above us.
Then the ceiling caved in.
Wood splintered. Plaster exploded in a cloud of dust and noise and something snarling. I saw yellow teeth and iron wings. Dad shouted. Fired the gun. The flash lit the whole room like lightning.
"Joe, get him out of here!" he roared, emptying the clip into the thing's chest.
It didn't stop.
Mom yanked me by the arm, dragging me down the hall. I looked back.
The parademon tackled my dad into the wall. His head hit hard.
I never saw him move again.
Mom slammed the bedroom door, locked it, then ran to the window. Her hands were shaking so bad she couldn't get it open at first.
"Lucas," she said, turning to me. Her voice was too calm. That's how I knew something was wrong. "Get under the bed."
"Where's Daddy—?"
"Under the bed!" she snapped. Then softer, almost broken: "Please, baby. Just do it."
I crawled under, heart pounding, lungs refusing to work.
The door blew open behind her. Wood splinters skidded across the floor.
She turned to face it.
The parademon stepped in, head cocked, sniffing the air.
She didn't scream.
She didn't cry.
She jumped.
Out the window. Into the night. Into nothing.
And then... silence.
Not for long. More of them came. I heard them tearing through our apartment, howling, crashing, breaking things that would never be fixed.
I stayed under that bed, holding my breath, holding my bear, waiting for them to find me.
They didn't.
Not that night.
But they took everything else.
I wished I could've forgotten about it…but those memories stuck to my mind like it was glued…my friends back then said I was amazing, the fact that I could remember everything clearly…even when I wasn't paying attention..
For a time, I loved it too. It felt like a superpower, just like those heroes that I used to adore. But for that night it felt like it was a curse.
Author's Note:
If you're enjoying the story and want to read ahead or support my work, you can check out my P@treon at P@treon.com/LordCampione. But don't worry—all chapters will eventually be public. Just being here and reading means the world to me. Thank you for your time and support.