"How can you do it? How can you still smile?" Your little brother, Bruce, says between his hopeless sobs.

You were with him, too. That cursed night, when your parents got shot in front of both of you. You saw it just like him and Bruce doesn't know how you keep smiling, how you aren't breaking down like him.

"Doesn't it hurt for you?" He hides his face behind his trembling hands. Why can't he smile like you?