#winx!reader

It’s not necessarily you running away that’s the gut wrenching part. It’s the way you remove the trace memories. Not only from the manor, but from everyone’s mind. It takes true skill to be messing with Batman and his protégés memories.

But, then you see first hand just how little you take up their thoughts. Practically a blink and you’ll miss it moment. How quick it takes you to pull the memories and passing thoughts of you from their heads.

You don’t bother to look at them. You don’t want to see what they thought of you in those tiny little wisp.

It’s almost easy in the to transfigure your old bed room into a guest bedroom, completed with an authentic layer of light dust.

Cool washes over as you finish with Bruce. Your father. Standing behind him in the Batcave while he focuses on the monitor. By now you had mastered the memory charm. Silently casting it and pulling the wisp away before vanishing from their lives.

It’s a kindness you decide. Bruce hates magic, maybe even hated you. By removing yourself you free up his and the rest of the families thoughts, even if only by a small bit. It was for the best.

Or, it should have been.

Did you really think Bruce wouldn’t notice the faintest gap at some point? The man was too aware of himself. To trapped in his own head not to notice the small missing piece.

He may not have known the method, but he was livid at the audacity. His mind was his most powerful weapon, his most used tool. And, someone had tampered with it.

It doesn’t help that the added mystery to it further entices the family to discover what is happening. Further draws them to whatever they lost.

Really you should have known better.

You taking yourself away from them left them digging their fingers to that small little space. Stretching it wider and wider to figure out what used to fit in there. Like they were digging at a tiny cut and turning it into a weeping gash with their nails.

And, when they find out that it wasn’t anything malicious, that wasn’t an enemy trying to tear at their psyches? That instead it was just a lost forgotten child leaving them? Well, they have plenty of space made for you in the minds they tore apart searching for you.

How Bruce would despise the magic you do for taking you from him. How he would blame every book you read and every mentor you ever had for your erasure.

He’s a generous man. He really is. But, stealing yourself from him leaves him enraged.

In a dimly lit room, overflown with dancing shadows, the familiar smell of old wood and dust surrounded the sight that for years to come would be engraved with fire on one's mind.

There, meticulously pinned against a soft, dark background, were framed on the wall the largest butterfly wings anyone could ever dream of ever seeing. As long and wide as a person would be tall, even after being torn off the intricate patterns and vibrant colors seemed to pulse an ethereal glow. Fine details such as delicate veins, shiny scales and subtle color gradients dancing between camouflaged yellows and greens were highlighted.

The tremor which ran through the ever growing-weaker body of staring eyes was nauseating. Each rib seemed to mock such dispossession, and a voice broken into muffled sobs. For these were not simply a pair of some insect's appendages stripped from any creature. What was once a part of one was now a dead trophy, motionless and grotesquely perfect.

How could anyone reduce something so alive and so sacred to this violation of all that's holy?

This was not admiration.

It was nothing but an insultingly brutal display of power by those who claimed to love her. The vivid portrait of the perfect family feet's away seemed as horrified as one felt, yet assuming it as a sign of any guilt would be foolish. They could be shocked to be found out. They could know but chose to ignore the abyss of emotions threatening to take consciousness away. Leaning before the frame as one's body was barely supporting the visceral reaction this evoked.

It had been so long since the last time someone claimed to understand. Them who avoided eye contact no longer knew of humanity and not because of the brutal act but because those who claimed to love her would see beauty where there was only mutilation.

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