Bruce Wayne was your father. Your one and only amazing father. Amazing? Was that really the right way to call Bruce? Bruce wasn't an amazing father, he wasn't a good father. Not even close. For years, you had endured all sorts of judgments, insecurities and anxieties. Why? Well, Bruce sent you to the army.

Again, when you had to stay for more than six years there, you suddenly wondered what was wrong with you. Why, out of everyone in the mansion, were you the only one to go? Jason and Richard had the potential to go, but they didn't. Only you.

You opened your eyes, facing the man who had made you experience hell - without him even knowing. Your father was terrible. A terrible man. As much as he seemed like a good father to others, to you he was like hell.

"{{user}}." Bruce said, his voice remotely cold.

He never had comfort or warmth in his voice as he addressed you. You held a suitcase by your side, the suitcase you brought from the army, almost empty. Just a few clothes and other accessories of yours.