a/n: This chapter is suppose to be uncomfortable to read, it goes into Lea's past and explains part of why she's doing what she's doing now. Also, more information on Detective Laura Morris (Laura Constantine from the Injustice universe) comes into this chapter.

"Daddy no, stop it that hurts! I don't w-wanna do this anymore!" She's shrieking, long black hair being pulled and yanked to keep her still. She's only thirteen, but the makeup on her face seems to keep smearing. Wiping her palms over her cheeks to get rid of the pink blush, the older man she calls her father behind her only tugs harder on her thick black strands.

"Lea, you need to stay still. Please it''ll be over in a minute." An arm wrapping around her torso from behind, while his other hand keeps clutching her hair. White knuckles, right to her scalp. He's begging her, tears in his eyes. His job hasn't been enough money to keep his wife on life support, and food on the table? Exploiting his daughter has been his last attempt at trying to keep his family together.

"Let me g-go!" Screaming and wailing, kicking her bare feet out and shoving them against the wall and pushing back. Shutting her eyes closed tightly, feeling wet mascara leave black streaks down her eyes. Shrieking loudly and throwing her head back, digging her nails into his arms.

The back of her head collides with his nose, a loud cracking sound emitting indicating that she's broken his nose. He's holding her up, an arm still wrapped around her torso. She has her feet to the wall, and she's still pushing back even now. Blood begins to gush from her father's now broken nose, onto the back of her head and down her back. Staining the white dress.

"Lea we have a good thing going, don't-" "Let me go! I don't wanna go up there!" She shrieks, screaming until her lungs beg for more air. Screaming until her throat feels horse and raw. Growing tighter as tears continue streaming down her bloodshot eyes. The bright blue looks more grey, and it's shadowed over by dark circles and red raw edges of flesh around her eyes.

Reaching her arms behind her, grabbing her father by the back of his head and moving both of her thumbs to where she can manage to find his eyes. He's crying, begging her to just keep going. She's never fought back like this before. She screams, she throws things, she bites, she threatens. But she's never broken any bones yet.

"Lea-aHHH!" She shoves her right thumb into his eye, squirming it around just as much as she herself was struggling. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" She keeps repeating, screaming it loudly. Squirming and doing so. Removing her thumb from his eye only when he yanks his head back. Blood now dripping from her long thumb nail, all the way to her elbow.

"Please don't be more mad at me I didn't mean-" An open palm across her face, a loud slap that sends heart topping shattered through the shady one bedroom place. Instantly, she's tossed up over his shoulder, while she only screams even louder. Pounding on his back, kicking her feet.

He walks past the living room, where her bed is. All her colorful toys, she's kicking around so much she makes him stumble and knock over her dresser. Sending dolls and trolls with colorful hair to sprawl all over the floor.

"Look what you did!" He yells, sounding more angry by the second. Gripping his daughter by her sides, her below average sized body easily thrown from his arms onto the ground. She lands flat on her back, suddenly the wind knocking out of her lungs is what finally silences her. Eyes widening in pain as her arms helplessly lay out around her body. Like a ragdoll tossed to the ground from a bored child. One of her knees is bent, leg to the side. Her other leg is straight, and she can feel the ends of her hair brush against her fingertips.

"It's the easiest thing to do, yet you pitch a fit about it every time! Please Lea, I love you. You're my daughter. Do you think I like putting you out there?!" He yells at her, face growing red from anger as he bends down, grabs her face and forces his young teenage daughter to look at him.

Mascara and eyeliner running down her ghostly white face, streaks of what was once bronzer almost completely gone. The purple sparkly eye shadow has long since been rubbed off of her eyes, making her look like she was punched pretty good in the face. The bright pink lipstick smearing halfway off of her mouth, and a bright red hand print on the left side of her face.

"There are worse things I could have you doing, fucking appreciate ME!" He screams in her face, watching s his daughter flinches. Without even blinking, he yells it again. He watches the tears well up in her eyes, watches them gently roll down her face. She doesn't make a sound, but she closes her eyes and covers her ears.

He tears her hands off of her ears, and continues screaming about how much worse her life could be. About how great of a father he's being to her, about how lucky she is to have him.

Her eyes wander to the fine white powder on the glass table across the room, as it's separated into lines. He doesn't even bother to hide his drug addiction anymore. Seeing as Lea isn't allowed to have friends over anymore.  That all stopped when you asked her why her bed was in the living room, and why Lea's dad's door was always locked.

"Are you listening to me?" Her heart starts beating faster, eyes widening as she watches his right hand raise in anger. She shakes in his one arm that's holding her, tugging away but he has a firm grasp on her forearm. She's crying again, pulling her body back.

She reels her right foot back, and sends a clear kick to his groin. He yells in pain, lowers both hands to his gut and doubles over while groaning loudly, muttering something about calling her a bitch.

As if the adrenaline from kicking him in her body is taking over, she grabs his arm and twists it all the way backwards, running behind him with his wrist in her hands. He's screaming out in pain, and she puts one foot on his back, while the other stays on the ground. Grunting while she pulls, she yanks his arm out of the socket, and then twists it as much as she possibly could, hearing the splintering sounds of bone around his elbow breaking. The bright red color of fresh blood starts pooling around the fabric of his button up.

He turns around, grabbing her by her shoulders and shoves her. Causing her to land on the glass table, sending her body right through it and onto the ground.

"This wasn't suppose to happen!" He yells, coming closer to her.

She reacts, grabbing one of the jagged pieces in her hand. Refusing to let the sting of the glass slicing open her palm. Refusing to let it allow her to let go.

He lunges at her, and she quickly swipes her arm up and slashes his chest with the glass.

She sits up, while he scrambles to the back door.

That was the last time Lea ever saw her father, and ever since? She's been in foster homes.

"Miss? Um, miss?" The voice of the clerk behind the counter brings Lea out of her train of thought, the memory flashing in her mind as she stars at the diamond encrusted tiara on the glass cashier desk before her.

"Yeah, sorry. I'll take the money." She says, trading the tiara for cash.

She's at a pawn shop, getting money out of her fathers attempts to exploit her and pay for not just rent, but drugs.

"That all you want to pawn off? You know the rules, right-"
"I get it, bye. Thanks, have a nice night." She mutters, taking the cash and shoving it in her deep pockets. Flipping her olive green hood up, letting the faux fur come into her vision. Walking out of the dimly lit pawn shop, she pushes on the door. Listens to the bell ring as she leaves, and makes her way out.

It's Halloween night, and currently? She hasn't seen many kids out. Which is weird, because its Halloween. She only rolls her eyes, letting dark black hair with faded purple tips brush back behind her ear.

She has your address in her phone, ad she's trying to find it. Turns out her way of trying to find your dad and talking to him didn't really work out, all she got out of it? A little bit of some nightmare fuel, after seeing the room that was left in St. Adens Orphanage after some girl had a freak out and kept destroying shit. Lea doesn't believe this, but apparently? That girl was stuck to the ceiling. Gotham may be bad, but that just makes no sense.

There's a lot of things about Gotham that Lea doesn't find make sense. First off, who the hell just decides that someone like the Joker needs to be rehabilitated. Yeah, from the reading Lea's done? She can agree that some of Gothams common criminals with big names like Two Face, Riddler, and Harley Quinn could probably, maybe be rehabilitated. But Joker? From what she's read, why doesn't he just get a death sentence? He's done some things to deserve it, dozens of times.

Seeing her breath as she exhales, clutching both duffle bags closer to her sides, one on each shoulder. She's walking straight through crime alley with one duffel bag stuffed with cash, and her pocket too. Another duffel bag stuffed with clothes, a couple self defense weapons, and in her other pocket? The small revolver.

That small gun definitely isn't enough for her to completely defend herself, but she's pretty sure she doesn't need to completely worry about it. Hence why she's making her way to the main streets, out of the shadiest area in Gotham.

She makes her way to the edge of the street, walking through a short alley with doors from the backs of strip clubs or drug stores. Walking quickly as rain begins to beat down, slowly getting heavier and heavier.

*Somewhere in Oregon, with Detective Laura Morris*

"Yeah, kids dad paid off a lot of money to get this stuff hidden. I wouldn't have let you look if you weren't family. What did you say your name was again?" The ex cop said, sitting down in a large chair in front of the television to his home. The television was the size of a damn door, and the house? Detective Morris found it pretty easily, since it was pretty big. Not exactly living off of a cops salary, and he's retired by the age of forty? There's no way John Constantine had that kind of money. Even to just pay off to someone.

"It's Laura, (Y/n)'s my younger sister. Just checking up on her, kinda estranged from the family." She replied, closing her eyes and lightly smiling. Blonde hair tied back into a tight ponytail and beige trench coat, yeah she really does look like her dad.

"Want my opinion?" No, I don't. Laura mentally thought to herself, rolling her eyes as she stared at your file.

"Sure, you used to be a cop. A pretty good one I assume, so what about this has got you thinking your say matters?" She says it like it's an actual question, and as if hinting by all the money this version of John Constantine managed to gather up? Someone like this should keep his mouth shut, it's suspicious enough that he suddenly got so much money out of nowhere.

"Kid needs therapy. Intensive therapy, give her a 'Hug me' jacket for a couple years. Keep her away from people and for christ's sake, keep her away from blunt and sharp objects. Might as well fill her head up with all types of meds, too. Kid's not right up there, I've never had to deal with a case like this before." He says, letting out a fit of laughs that only let Laura know how much this guy use to smoke. Narrowing her eyes, as if hearing someone talk this way about her sister is enough to piss her off.

Sure, her version of (Y/n) (L/n) is dead. Murdered, okay so it was technically an accident. That doesn't change the fact a bullet went right on through your skull and didn't stop at the skin. Laura watched it happen, watched the one person you let get so close to you just allow you to be shot. She watches the fear pass through your eyes and watched you shake because you were so scared. You were just barely seventeen, but to her? To Laura, you're always going to be that little kid with the bright (e/c) eyes and the impressive curiosity.

But this version of you? Laura knows you'd never actually kill someone. Yes, you had your moments. You had those moments where everything was just black or white, no inbetween. Laura's seen you come real close to killing someone, even had to pick you up covered in blood maybe once or twice. But you've never killed anybody. Not in your seventeen years of living. Especially when you were being influenced by the people around you in Gotham. Laura grew up all over the place, around Newcastle mostly. You? You grew up in Gotham. Laura was with dad, and you stayed with mom.

Last thing Laura knows happened in her own reality, was Sinestro was just giving yellow lantern rings away to anybody in the Regime who wanted one. The last conversation Laura remembers having, was with Bruce. Talking about how she can just go somewhere-anywhere that has another Bruce Wayne. Convince him of it, somehow, and then have Barry do the rest, getting the entire league involved.

Laura can't even believe what her eyes are processing, reading the witness statement, reading the autopsy report. Looking at the mugshot they had you do. God, it was all just so terrible. He didn't even have much of a face left, it was all caved in.

"Where did you say you were stationed at again? Mind if I see your badge?" The ex officer asked, Laura only nodded, shoving her hand in her pocket.

"I'm stationed in Gotham. Just got out of LA." She said, handing her badge that read "Laura Morris" right under her picture. She knows Morris isn't her last name, but isn't not like she can go around calling herself Detective Constantine. Laura Constantine, god that'd raise some suspicion. Laura hasn't even run into this version of herself yet, and she hopes not too.

Because after seeing what this version of you was capable of? She doesn't want to know what this version of Laura Constantine is like.

This isn't exactly a good way to spend her birthday, reading files on the murder her younger sister committed. But Halloween's almost over, and she'll start making her way back to gotham soon.

Laura walks over to the fireplace, files in hand. Closes her eyes, and then tosses them in.

**With you, at your home.**

Only two kids came by trick-r-treating. One of them was dressed up as Green Lantern, and the little girl by his side was dressed up as a pumpkin. They had parents waiting by the gate, holding up umbrellas and flashlights. This was probably going to be their last stop, so you remembered to smile and dump the rest of the bowl into both of their bags.

After that, you know you turned the porch light off. So no more kids would come by. Sure, only two came by. But you just dumped out all of your candy into two different pillowcases. Gotham's not the best place for Trick-r-treating, is it? Maybe you just live in the wrong neighborhood.

Taking off the cat ears from your head, and rubbing off the expo marker whiskers that you had quickly drawn on. It's always been a thing for you to answer the door in some type of costume. This year, it was a cat ear headband, a black sweater, black leggings and socks, and drawn on cat whiskers. You didn't go out trick-r-treating this year, but initially? You had plans to be a pirate. Next year it is, then.

That was all maybe two hours ago. Ever Since? You've been watching scream on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. Mom won't be home until maybe next week, dad had to go back to work, and Laura is only going to come home when your mom does. Laura's having issues with her breathing, she has to be kept on all types of medications right now. You only saw her once, but the few sets of stitches on her stomach? You know you won't be going back into the bookstore for a while now, after what happened there.

Julian said he'd be here tomorrow to watch you, but he's out at some party trying to calm his nerves. In this case, it means get drunk and try to forget about everything that happened last night. You get it, you totally do. You'd definitely go for a mike's hard lemonade right now. Preferably strawberry. But then you think back to it, and remember that you're not friends with anybody here that'd actually know where to get some. And you're pretty sure Map's older brother isn't twenty one yet.

The one time you're actually willing to go do something your mom would only shake her head at? You can't. Back to being the innocent bean that all of your friends from Portland have given you the title of.

You roll your eyes, knowing that Gotham's changing you a little bit. It's been almost an entire twenty four hours since Robin stopped by and gave you the compact mirror that doubled as a video-feed-radio. And the last, or only two trick-r-treaters have long since passed. So yeah, you plan on falling asleep here, waiting for Julian to get back. Wait for the weekend to be over, then go back to school and pretend that the police watching your every move is just for your protection.

There's a creak on the other side of the house.

Your eyes widen, and you reach for the remote to pause your movie. Once it's paused, you sit still and wait to listen for the noise again.

Creeeeaaaaaak.

The floorboards around the backdoor have been loosened up a bit, a trick your mother showed you. It's finally come in handy, but the police stationed right outside should be enough to keep someone from even getting on the property?

Unless it's someone who knows how to get past the police. In that case? You walk slowly to the kitchen, tip toeing in order not to make noise

Making your way to the cutlery case, you grab a knife by the handle, sliding it out of the knife block.

"Robin?" You question in a normal voice. Not yelling, but not whispering. Making your way to the now open back door. Mumbling a silent, oh crap, before sprinting over and closing the door.

You aren't dumb enough to think that the wind opened the door, and a cat walked on through.

You sigh, and turn around.

Turning on the kitchen light, just to see a slender figure standing on the back porch. Gasping and reaching for the back door, locking it closed only so you could continue to see through the glass panel that acts as a window for the backdoor.

Eyes settling on two large blue eyes, only so they go up and see the black roots of hair that slowly fade out into a soft purple.

"Lea?!" You yell, unlocking the door and slamming it open. Only to be confronted by a very annoyed looking teenager with crossed arms, and two duffel bags at her sides.

"Were you planning on leaving me in the rain for the rest of the night?"