So, I hope you guys enjoy this. I made up the names and the story, so it's kind've like a poem/story.
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He doesn't remember how he got the scars. He doesn't remember his wife, Hannah, or his daughter, Elizabeth. He can't remember the first day his baby girl called him daddy, or when his wife first told him she loved him. He can't remember anything from his past. But that's ok. Because on dark nights, when he's really lonely, he can almost see her face. Almost touch her again. But then, she fades. Like everything else in his life. But he doesn't care. He can remember anything he wants. He knows how he got his scars, because he believes he does. And every time he tells someone how he got them, he believes it himself. When he's really lonely, he tries his hardest to remember her. But all the faces just turn into Batman. Because that's his life now. He doesn't mind. Really, he doesn't. And on the nights when he cries, he doesn't really know who he's crying for. So why should he be sad? Why?