#damianewaynexreader

-2 Years Later-

Cora E. | Everhart Mansion, New York City | 1:00 p.m.

I felt numb to my core. I could hear and see perfectly, but nothing was truly registering in my mind. It seemed like it was just yesterday, but in reality, it's been eight days since my mother passed away. I remember that day crystal clear.

I heard a certain knock on my bedroom door, and I immediately rushed over to yank it open while holding my phone. I was busy scrolling through social media. On the other side stood Charles, the old family butler. He had a deep frown on his face, a distressed gaze in his eyes, which was abnormal considering the fact that he was one of the most positive and kind men I have met. He was usually bearing a smiling face whenever I saw him.

"What's the matter, Charles?" I asked him, worried that something bad happened.

He opened his mouth to speak up, but then closed it again. He looked at me, and I could practically see the gears turning in his head.

"Something terrible happened, Miss Cora. It's about Miss Katherine." He started. My attention was caught the moment he said something terrible happened, but now I was on high alert, knowing that it was related to my mom.

"What happened?" I inquired, a bit uneasy.

Again, Charles looked hesitant and looked down at the floor for a good 60 seconds.

"Charles?" I called out to him. "Is everything alright?"

"Your mother is gone, Miss Cora. She's died in her sleep last night. "

I froze, his words slowly sinking into my brain and heart like extremely sharp blades. The phone I was holding crashed to the ground, turning into shards of plastic and glass, as my eyes went wide as saucers. My mouth felt dry, and my throat felt scorched. Charles stood in front of me with an apologetic look on his face.

"P-please tell me this is all just a cruel joke," I begged under my breath.

"I am sorry, Miss Cora, but your mother has been declared dead. " he responded.

Death. The one thing I never feared. Thinking about it now, I realized I wasn't afraid to die, but I feared for the ones that I loved.

I tried to utter a word. I tried to say anything that I could say. But I couldn't. Instead, I let out a choked sob and collapsed to my knees. Charles was by my side, rocking me back and forth as I continued to sob.

My mother was gone. I wasn't even able to spend much time with her yet because I spent most of my childhood in Russia. I wanted to turn back time and be able to hear my mother sing me to sleep once again. But I couldn't do that. She was gone.

I snapped out of the flashback, wiping my eyes with the hem of my shirt. I reached out to grab a glass of water right beside me when I heard a resounding knock from the heavy oak doors of my bedroom. Taking my last sip of water, I set the glass down.

"Come in," I called out in a hoarse voice, a reminder that I hadn't spoken to anyone that much in the past days, and instead had been crying my eyes out. Poor things must be as red as blood by now.

The door creaked open, and a face looked in. A face that I did not want to see right now. Or any other day for that matter.

"Oh, it's you," I whispered to myself. My father strode the room with long, graceful steps, and stopped just in front of my bed.

"I heard you haven't been eating much the past days. " he stated with the famous strictness in his voice.

"As if  you care," I say coldly. "Where were you when my bones were being broken back in Russia? As you can see, I'm am perfectly fine."

"You know perfectly well that you are not fine... and do not talk to me like that. I am your father." he scolds me, and it causes me to scoff aloud.

"Oh? What are you gonna do, father? Build a dungeon in the basement And lock me in there?" venom was laced in my voice as I said that.

"Despite what you might believe, I'm your father, not your jailor, Coralynn. " He responds angrily.

"Why the sudden change of heart?" I ask him in a snarky tone. I don't remember you caring for me before, I add in my head, but I don't let it reach my lips. I'm not in the mood for a fight.

My father glares at me with his stunning amber eyes. The eyes that I inherited.

He kept silent, but to me, it seemed like he was biting his tongue from saying something to me. I scoffed once more and looked away from him, rolling my eyes. I knew I was being mean and disrespectful, but I couldn't help it.

"Whatever," I sneered, proceeding to walk away from him.

My father continues to look at me in silence for a while, before continuing. "You are going to study in Gotham for this year. It might be better for you if you stay away from New York for the time being. "

"Hah!" I scoffed, "you truly do have a knack for deciding where I will stay without even asking me, huh? Nevermind, you've never cared anyway. "

"I am doing what's best for you. " he stated, keeping a cool demeanor. But let's be real. I know deep down inside his chest, it's a burning lava pit.

"Oh really? Is that what you thought when sent me to Russia for, I don't know, almost my whole life?! Because of you, I never got to spend real quality time with my mother! And now she's dead and gone!" I started out calmly, but nearing the end, the tone of my voice began to rise steadily.

My father's gaze softened. "Cora," he began softly, as if he wanted to say something to comfort me. But I didn't care whatever he has to say. I cut him off by holding up my right hand to his face. It did the trick.

"You know what? Screw this crap. I'm gonna follow through and go study in Gotham. I'll do literally anything just to get away from you. " I sneer, immediately rising to my feet and going over to one of the cupboards in my room. I drag my suitcase from the inside of the cupboard and carry it over to my bed, opening it up and setting it on the soft foam.

I went to my walk-in wardrobe and retrieved some shirts before going back to the empty suitcase lying on my bed.

My father stood in the doorway, watching me silently as I moved around the room to pack my stuff. I didn't mind. The faster I could finish packing, the sooner I could leave Manhattan, and the sooner I could get away from him.

I was about to go to my bathroom to gather my body wash, loofah,  shampoo, and conditioner when my dad spoke up.

"Your mother loved you." He murmured softly, but loud enough for me to unmistakably hear it. I stopped in my tracks and turned my head slightly in his direction. A million thoughts were racing through my head, wondering how I should respond.

"I know she did," I whisper quietly, but I know he had heard me. 'But what about you?'  My mind automatically inquired. I desperately wanted to ask him that. It was at the tip of my tongue. Instead, I bit my lower lip and continued with what I was supposed to do.

I passed by the large wall mirror in my room, and I saw my dad's reflection in it. He looked like he really wanted to say something, and I was silently begging him to speak up. Say whatever he wants. Anything. But he left without another word, shutting the door softly as he walked away. I sighed softly.