Trauma Dumping & Other Fun Conversations

  (Because what’s a late-night stroll without some existential dread?)

  ---

  Silence is Suspicious

  The walk back to the mansion is quiet.

  Too quiet.

  Like, “someone definitely died today but we don’t want to talk about it” kind of quiet.

  Aaron notices.

  I know he does.

  Because instead of basking in the rare, blissful moment where I’m not actively annoying him, he looks over and says:

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  “I’ve been meaning to ask—what made you start this… path?”

  I blink. “What path?”

  Aaron gives me a look. “The Lady Karma thing.”

  I groan. “Oh, come on. You know I hate that name.”

  He smirks. “Yeah, that’s why I use it.”

  I scowl at him. “I’m not some karmic justice agent, okay? I don’t go around balancing scales and making the universe fair. That’s a bunch of feel-good nonsense.”

  “Then why do you do it?”

  I pause.

  Not because I don’t have an answer.

  But because I don’t know which version of the answer to give him.

  So I deflect. Like a pro.

  “Oh, please, Bruce Wayne,” I roll my eyes. “You don’t see me asking why you put on a mask and fight crime. I mean, you’re already a walking cliché. Please don’t tell me your parents were murdered or something.”

  Aaron raises a brow. “My parents are very much alive, thank you.”

  I blink. “Huh.”

  That’s… unexpected.

  He smirks. “Disappointed?”

  “More like shocked.” I gesture vaguely at him. “You scream tragic backstory.”

  Aaron shrugs. “Guess I just like helping people.”

  I snort. “Yeah. That’s believable.”

  ---

  Dancing Around the Truth

  Aaron doesn’t push.

  Smart guy.

  Instead, he just keeps walking, waiting for me to say something real.

  And the thing is… I kinda want to.

  But where do I even start?

  Do I tell him about the first time I learned what real fear looked like?

  Do I tell him about the girl who cried in my arms after the police laughed in her face?

  Do I tell him about the way the world enables monsters while their victims rot in silence?

  Or do I just keep pretending it’s all a game?

  A hobby?

  A fun little pastime for a sociopath with a knife?

  The mansion comes into view.

  I sigh.

  “You really want to know why I do it?” I ask.

  Aaron glances at me. “Yeah.”

  I stop walking. Turn to face him.

  Smile.

  And lie through my teeth.

  “Because it’s fun.”

  Then I phase through the front door and leave him standing outside.