When she was 3, her parents had gotten extremely high during her “birthday party”, in reality they had bought her a cupcake and they’d spent the money her grandmother had given them to buy her new clothes in drugs, they were absolutely out of it. She’d gotten hungry, asking her mom to please make her a sandwich, she realized they were asleep, there was no way to wake them up after they shot up. Darla had decided her best bet was to climb the counter and get the pb&j from the cupboard, but, as soon as she stood on said counter, she fell — her head hit the floor, really hard, she’d screamed hard enough to wake her mother and, while laying on a pool of blood and fighting to stay awake, she could hear her mom panic, not because she was hurt, no, it was because she’d called 911, people were on the way, and she had drugs lying around, she was scared for herself. She needed stitches, and while it was not such a huge wound, it’s something that made her realize — her mom and dad didn’t care for her, they would never love her more than they loved drugs. A reminder.
The first bust. It had not been anything too complicated, but they’d not counted on the inhabitants of the apartment to have that extra boost that doing drugs give you, she’d been thrown out of the 6th story window, she’d held on to the fire escape window, cutting her hands on the glass in the process, but at that moment she had felt the fear of death, it was to kill or be killed. Both hands have various cuts along her palms and fingers from holding on, they’re a little faded, given that she uses her hands a lot and new skin constantly replaces the old one, but they’re still there and they’re the more constant reminder that everything can end in a flash.
During patrol, she encountered a man breaking into someone’s home, after confronting him and demanding he leaves or “ shit will turn ugly ”, the guy had tried to be funny and used the shittiest blade to stab her, he wasn’t trained, but the cut had been deep, right on her stomach, she’d killed him with the switchblade still inside her, the amount of pain she was in after ? She couldn’t remember it too much, she only remembered wanting to lay down and die — anything to make it stop. Thanks to some of the Professor’s inventions, she managed to get home alive, and was tended to, hospitals were never a good option, or an option at all, Utonium has a nurse and a doctor on standby, with their sworn secrecy, they all call the doctor, Mayor, given his past involved in politics and their nurse Miss Bellum, she’s a charm and is pretty much the one who calms them when shit gets bad. Even with the Mayor’s amazing technical skill, a scar was left behind, it’s quite thick and noticeable, under her bellybutton, Blossom hates it, it reminds her of how she can never be off guard, it had been her at the time, but what if her siblings had been with her ? She could’ve killed them.
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