I could see Gotham City sparkling with colourful lights from where I stood on the roof of Wayne Manor.

It was quiet up here; peaceful. No Damian reminding me of my mistakes, no Bruce giving me grief for a fight I couldn't stop, no students pestering me about the incident with Flynn. I was alone at last.

I wondered to myself if Bruce was looking for me. If he really was still mad like Tim had said, then I'd be in even more trouble for not showing up to his "talk."

But I didn't want to leave this roof. I didn't want to go back into that houseful of men. They never seemed to leave me alone. It was like there as always something wrong with me, something wrong that I had done, something wrong that I had caused. They babied me, like I was a little girl stumbling around with no idea what I was doing.

They weren't completely wrong, in some cases. Yeah, maybe I was new to this world. Maybe I wasn't used to freedom like this. Maybe I wasn't used to school and friendships and parties and stupid assholes trying to get into my pants.

But that didn't mean I was clueless. Did they forget that I was the assassin, not them? They were just normal dudes with a lot of money. I was the one with almost fourteen years of extensive physical and emotional training. I was the killer. I was tougher then all of them, right?

Well, that was debatable. Damian wasn't like the rest of them, I knew.

There was something about him that he was keeping from me. Hell, he kept a lot of things from me. But this was something big, I could just tell. He was definitely tough in ways I could not yet describe.

A chilling breeze sent shivers down my spine. My hair whipped across my face and got caught in my mouth. It was freezing up here, but I dealt with it. That was what I always did, right? I dealt with things. I put up with whatever shit was thrown my way.

Well, maybe I'd had enough of doing that.

I didn't know how much time had passed, but maybe an hour later, I decided to head back in. I was getting hypothermia out here, and I craved the warmth of my bed. I slid down the tiled roof and carefully climbed down toward my bedroom window. It was a good thing I'd been trained to do deadly activities like this at Midnight, otherwise I would've surely fell to my death. Wayne Manor wasn't exactly built for rock-climbing.

Damian was waiting outside my room when I arrived. Fuck, I thought, So much for trying to avoid him all night.

He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a distant look clouding his emerald eyes. "We need to talk," was all he said, his gaze focused on anything but me.

Avoiding eye-contact, huh? Something was wrong.

I continued past him. "No, we don't."

He slid across before I could make it to the door, covering the handle with his body. I was irritated now. How dare he? He couldn't stop me from entering my own room, could he?

"Yes, we do," he replied. Those cold eyes of his felt as if they were burning holes into me. I stepped back stiffly, a scowl crossing my face. This was pissing me off.

"Fine. What is?" I muttered.

Damian spoke, "First of all, my father wishes to speak with you. He detects that something happened at Summer's party. I wouldn't bother lying to him, if I were you. He always knows when someone is lying."

I swallowed hard. Was that true? Could Bruce tell if I was lying or not? The mere thought of what happened at Summer's party made me feel sick. I did not want to explain it to him, at all.

When I didn't respond, Damian cleared his throat and continued, "Second of all, I need to know what else you're hiding from me. What the fuck did Henderson do to you before I found you?"

He was glaring at me, clearly still mad about the hickeys. I felt an overwhelming urge to run away, to flee this situation. My heart felt like a jackhammer in my chest, fueling my adrenaline even more. Oh, god, this was too much.

"Move," was all I said, refusing to answer his question. I wasn't about to open up to him now, especially after that temper tantrum he'd pulled just earlier in the pool. Hell, no.

But Damian only narrowed his eyes further. He stood firmly in place, refusing to let me past. I was so frustrated, I was torn between hitting him or crying.

The first option sounded extremely pleasant, if I was being honest.

"Tell me," he repeated.

Through gritted teeth I replied, "I think you know what happened, Damian. You're the one who found us."

He was not satisfied with my answer in the slightest.

"I know you're hiding something, Sasha," he muttered, eyes never leaving mine.

I glared back at him, trying my best not to lash out. "Just leave me alone."

He wouldn't budge from the doorway. Don't hit him, don't hit him, I kept telling myself. Violence wasn't the right way to solve things, I knew. But god, was it more satisfying then this.

My gaze flickered to the end of the hallway. A cold breeze entered through an open window. A window. I remembered that I'd left my own bedroom window open, which was on the same wall as this one. They were technically connected. I could get into my room that way.

Damian followed my gaze and joined the dots mere moments before I took off sprinting down the hallway.

"Hey!" He shouted, chasing after me instantly. I nearly made it to the window before he grabbed my arm and yanked me back. My fighting instincts kicked in automatically and I swung my right fist at his face. Shit, what am I doing?

Damian dodged, went to hit me back but I blocked, pulling my captured arm free and stumbling back into a fighting stance. It was all too fast, our movements almost seemed to happen in super-speed. I couldn't stop myself from throwing my fists forward. I couldn't stop myself from sending a kick to his torso.

Damian parried all my attacks, and before I knew it, we were scrambling and wrestling on the floor. "Don't make me hurt you," he growled, pinning me against the carpet. His legs straddled me and I was completely trapped under his body weight.

"Wow, I'm so..." I paused, momentarily struggling to breath from the weight on my ribs, "...scared."

I managed to wriggle my legs free and wrap them tightly around his body, using all my strength to flip him over. Now I was on top, and ready to stand up and run to the window. But he had his grip on me and I couldn't move.

We both sat there, each refusing to let go, each squirming against the other's hold. Damian was tying to get me off him, twisting and kicking his legs in an attempt to knock me back. It worked, as the momentum of his body turning to the left tipped us sideways and now he was back on top and holding me down again.

Damian glared. "Start talking."

I took in heavy breaths and replied, "God, you're stubborn."

He had one hand around my neck and his other forearm pressed against my chest, my own arms trapped beneath his legs.

"If you think this is actually doing anything, then you're wrong," I spoke through a raspy voice. "I was once thrown off a building and into a dumpster in downtown Gotham when I wouldn't talk. Shattered four bones and still didn't say a word."

But Damian only rolled his eyes. "Save it, Sasha, i'm not intimidated by your bed-time stories."

I scoffed back. "Of course you aren't. The big, bad, Damian Wayne isn't scared of anything, is he?"

His grip tightened slightly on my throat. "You said it, not me."

I knew I didn't have enough energy to get out from under him now. I was too tired to try, he was so relentless that it wouldn't stop him even if I did. Letting out a deep and heavy sigh, I said, "Get off me."

"What?"

"I said get off me," I repeated, my voice calm. Damian stared at me like I was mentally stupid. "So you can attack me again? I don't think so."

I squirmed against him one more time but it was no use. Frustrated, I let out a loud groan. "Look, just get off me and I'll answer your stupid question."

His eyes sent daggers at me, but after a few seconds more of glaring, he finally let me go. I scrambled away quickly, coughing and inhaling more air. He'd managed to squeeze my neck tight enough to make it hard for me to breathe but not tight enough that it had overly injured me.

I rubbed my throat and eyed Damian, who was also breathing heavily and now sat with his back against the wall, eyeing me back.

"Just so you know," I began, brushing hair out of my face. "This is why I don't tell you things."

He just looked away, displaying an emotion that I could not label. Annoyance? Guilt? Both? I had no clue. But it was clear to me that he wasn't exactly enjoying this situation, and neither was I. I could tell that he hadn't meant for any of this to happen. He hadn't wanted to fight me.

We sat there for a little while longer, resting, sucking in breaths of air. I refused to take my eyes off him, and he refused to take his off me. So, we were back to not trusting each other anymore, were we? Wow.

And here I was thinking something had changed.

I considered making a run for my room and locking myself inside. Or maybe just escaping to any other area of the house away from Damian. But I'd promised that I'd answer his question, and no matter how badly I wanted to leave, he was currently sitting closest to both the staircase and my bedroom combined.

Knowing Damian, I wouldn't be able to make it past him unscathed. He was not one to give up, ever. And that was an extremely frustrating quality about him.

Eventually, I spoke the words he wanted me to say. "He just touched me, okay? He held me down and he touched me and he gave me hickeys," I said, forcing the words out of my mouth, trying my hardest to ignore the growing lump in my throat.

Damian just watched me. Again. Like he always did. He just sat there and observed me, my own gaze moving to look at something else, anything else then his face. Why was he so demanding all the time? Always needing answers, always wanting to know every scrap of information.

What was he, a fucking detective? an undercover FBI agent? Honestly, I wouldn't even be surprised if he was. That would explain his combat skills, and his insane academic knowledge.

I waited for him to say something. Maybe to understand that there was nothing else for me to tell him. But he didn't do anything, just stared at me some more. Just watched me like he was expecting me to continue. What more did he want?

And then I realized. He wanted proof. Evidence.

He really was a goddamn agent, wasn't he?

I lifted the hem of my shirt and rubbed at the makeup I'd caked onto my stomach. This makeup had been waterproof, as my torso was slightly lighter than my neck and face, and so I'd used a different foundation.

I barely got any of it off, but already you could see the ugly, purple bruises beneath. "These aren't from fighting," I mumbled quietly, holding my top up for Damian to see.

There. I'd done it. I'd shown him what Drake had done. I'd caved in and admitted that I'd been hiding something from him.

"You could've just told me," Damian replied so quietly, I was almost shocked. He was usually loud and dictating when he spoke. Now it was silent between us, and compared to a few minutes ago when we'd been aggressively wrestling each other, it was strange.

I still couldn't look at him. I was weak. Damian knew now that I was weak. I hadn't wanted him to see me like this; bruised and damaged. I'd tried to behave like everything was fine, particularly after he'd found me wasted and defenseless at the party.

I didn't want to be thought of as defenseless. God, that was the last thing I wanted people to see me as. The last thing I wanted him to see me as.

Yet here I was; a small, frail, broken little girl.

I guess I really was a bad liar, after all.

yo i feel like i've been updating really frequently lately so y'all better appreciate this while it lasts cause when school starts again i won't be able to write as much!

also this chapter is more of a filler and it kind of adds onto the last chapter lol. sorry its not the most entertaining but i wanted to include another sasha-damian fight scene.

we are on 5.8k reads omg! thank u! pls vote, comment, and follow if u want to xx