Here's a polished and expanded version of your DC Comics fanfic opening,
My name is Jacob. From the moment I was born, something was different about me—I could remember everything. Not just moments or feelings, but everything, exactly as it happened. Some called it a photographic memory. I called it a curse.
My mom worked as a cashier at a tiny store just off 5th Street, deep in the heart of Gotham. My dad? He was a cop. Brave, tough... and already dead six months before I was born—caught in the crossfire of one of the Joker's sick games and Batman's desperate attempts to stop him. I never met him, so I didn't feel the loss. But my mom did. Every day.
When I was around two, I remember waking up to the sound of her crying in the kitchen, cursing the names Joker and Batman like they were both villains. I didn't understand much then, but the pain in her voice stuck with me. As the years passed, her strength slowly faded. The stress, the trauma, the city itself—it all broke her. Drugs became her escape. Even when she was high, she never stopped being my mother. Somehow, despite everything, she always made sure there was food on my plate. I think about that a lot. And it hurts, knowing I couldn't do anything to comfort her.
But I wasn't like other kids. I learned fast—too fast. By middle school, I was already coding simple apps, taking freelance gigs online, and slowly building a secret savings account. I was trying to buy us a way out. Out of Gotham. Out of the darkness.
When I finally showed Mom our account balance and asked if we could leave—maybe start over in Newcastle—she cried harder than I'd ever seen her cry. But this time, they were tears of hope. For the first time in years, she smiled. Really smiled.
We packed what little we had, sold the house, and said goodbye to Gotham. As we drove away, I felt something strange... like maybe, just maybe, we had escaped the curse.
But then it happened.
Boom.
The street behind us exploded in flames. The ground cracked open. Our car lurched, glass shattered. Screams filled the air.
Then—darkness.