[Super Bat][BVS]Under the Kansas sky

Dear A.P.:

Sorry to contact you so abruptly.I joined your online mutual aid group half a year ago. With the help of you and the group members, I have been able to gradually get out of the shadow of that incident, at least I feel this way.In addition to expressing my gratitude to you in this letter, I also hope that you can help me answer a question in your busy schedule.The reason I chose to ask this privately is because you have never mentioned related matters at the mutual aid meeting. If you find this question difficult to answer, please ignore and forgive my abrupt interruption.I would like to know how you received those visitors at that time, the police, or the reporters and some staff?It's so easy to admit it online, but it's so hard when you have to face it in person.I had no intention of blaming others for my pain, but I couldn't help myself from hurting others by doing so.I would be very grateful for some help from you.

Good day to you.

Team member M·K

Bruce wakes up from another nightmare.

Not that dark alley, nor the smell of gunpowder and scattered pearls.The black gravel makes a soft sound under his feet, the gray and dark sky covers the vast wilderness, like the lifeless eyes of a dead man, the crow sculpture stands on the pale cross, the original golden wheat wave is like dry grass, at noon In the farmhouse where the smoke should be rising, there are only low and mournful bagpipes lingering around the beams.He stood in the farthest corner, and the hem of his clothes was stained with a biting chill.Then the small team, carrying the simple coffin, was swallowed up bit by bit by the endless golden ears of wheat and drowned in the howling wind.Then the darkness swept across the sky, who was mocking with piercing laughter, and countless screams rang in his ears, tearing and devouring his soul.Countless eyes are hidden here, silently condemning all his mistakes.

Bruce looked at the pale ceiling indifferently, and he looked out of the window in a daze. The torrential rain was pouring against the glass like a curtain, and the white light from the edge of the water stung his dry eyes.

This rainstorm is exactly the same as that day.

Doyoubleed?

He heard himself asking angrily over and over again.Now that he's gotten a reply, he'd rather have one he never receives.

He got up slowly, like a patient who had just recovered. Yesterday's wound was hidden under heavy gauze, slowly congealing dark red ugly scars.

When Alfred came to the living room, Bruce was sitting in front of his computer, and the screen was showing the email he had just received this morning.

"I didn't know you still had pen pals."

"I don't know that you, Master Bruce, are spying on me."

"An accidental encounter is not surveillance."

"Then I can only complain about the timing?"

"You can also complain about my luck."

The man looked up at him, without the embarrassment of being caught.Alfred looked at him with raised eyebrows, and put the breakfast on the other side of the table.Bruce pouted, stood up reluctantly, and gave up the chair.Since Bruce drank the last bit of cucumber milk and didn't complain about it, Alfred felt that the vegetable juice in the evening would probably not be refused, and occasionally satisfying his master's "hobby" would help him perform his duties as a housekeeper.

"So... what is it that requires you to attend this kind of -- PTSD support meeting?"

"Isn't it good to keep it a little mysterious? Master Bruce?"

"…if, I mean if you need to talk or something—"

"I will take the initiative to seek help from the best psychological experts in the United States, and you don't need to worry too much."

Alfred finally stopped working and faced Bruce directly. The two stared at each other in silence for a while, and Bruce chose to look away first.

"After you've connected with your pen pal, check the sirens on the Lower West Side. I'm not sure how many of them I broke last night."

"receive."

Bruce looked back at Alfred again before leaving, tapped his fingers on the doorknob a few times, but in the end he just walked away.

When the door was closed, Alfred's hands slipped from the keyboard, and he turned his head to look at the woods around Wayne Manor. Winter came, and black and white were removed from the manor, leaving only a bleak gray.

Dear M·K:

First of all, I am very grateful for your trust in me.I am very gratified that the trivial things I do on the Internet can help you, and I believe you will come out of it.With regards to your question, let me start by stating that I am not being offended in any way, and I will do my best to help you.You said I never mentioned these things at the mutual aid meeting, that's because most of these comers are malicious, I don't feel any guilt about banishing or verbally hurting them, so I don't need to say too much about it .And if you have this feeling, it means that the other party must be a visitor with good intentions.And I also believe that he must understand your mood at that time, and he must not want you to feel guilty about it.Since this kind of thing is not easy to discuss in an email, I will arrange a group discussion on this situation in this week's mutual aid meeting. If your time allows, I look forward to your joining.You can also talk about this with other trusted people in the meantime if that would help you.

I wish you well

PS: And I will keep this communication absolutely confidential, swear by my family.

from A·P