TRIGGER WARNINGS: MENTION OF SUICIDE; DESCRIPTIONS OF ABUSE Please don't read if you're sensitive to these things, I don't want any of you having panic attacks because of me. I just needed to vent about personal things tonight, and it came out in the form of a Bat Blurb. Just skip to the next one. I never planned on any of them being sad or angsty, but this one is an exception, and likely to be the only exception. Safe reading continues next chapter.

They compared themselves to a scared little puppy tonight. So that's how the dog thing comes in. Yes, I'm venting from real life things, but no, those real life things don't include a suicide. Thankfully.

The Scared Little Puppy

"I don't get it. Why didn't she just leave? Why would she choose to stay with them when they hurt her?"

Bruce looked down at his young foster son. Dick was staring up at the picture of the recently deceased Annie Rothman, sad, confused, and just a little scared. 20 year old Annie had been his tutor for just a few weeks, but the two had taken a quick liking to each other. Now she was gone. Swallowed too many pills trying to numb the pain of her family's apparent hatred of her.

Dick turned to look at Bruce and asked again. "Why didn't she just leave?"

"It's not that easy, Dick," Bruce said quietly. He didn't know how he was supposed to explain the complexities of verbal and emotional abuse to an eleven year old who had never had reason to feel betrayed by those he trusted. Physical abuse, that was easier to explain, easy to see and prove. Kids were always taught about bad touches and that hitting was wrong. But bullying and neglecting to the point of death…that abuse was sneakier.

Dick was still watching him, waiting for him to make sense of everything. Bruce sighed and took Dick's hand, leading him outside. Most of the others who had attended the memorial had already left, except a few friends and family members. Annie's mother was down near the street, and Bruce couldn't help but note she actually had the gall to cry. Why couldn't she have cared this much when her daughter was alive?

Bruce headed towards a small bench on the side of the building and sat down, pulling Dick onto his lap. He stared down the road for a moment, thinking.

"Do you remember Bernie?"

"The old beagle Mr. Withers had?"

"Yes. When Mr. Withers moved into town, he had been kicking Bernie for years, remember? Taking his anger out on him whenever something made him mad." Dick nodded quietly. "But even though he never kept Bernie on a leash, he never ran away."

"Not until I took him," Dick said, and Bruce chuckled, remembering the rather frazzled look on Alfred's face when he returned home that night, and the pleading look on Dick's as he clung to the old, muddy hound.

"Right. You know why Bernie never left, though?"

Dick scrunched up his face in thought for a moment. "I guess…he didn't really know any better."

"That's right. Withers got him when he was a puppy. It was the only home he'd ever known. And I'm sure Withers wasn't always so mean to him. If I remember correctly, he didn't start losing his temper until he started drinking. But before then, Bernie was happy, and loved. You see, Dick, people don't go all bad all at once. It starts slow and builds up.

"By the time you rescued Bernie, he was used to being beat. He knew what was coming to him, and knew he could just run away. But at the same time, he couldn't. Everything he had ever had since he was a puppy was with that man. And he still loved him, because Withers was all he knew, and he had been kind, once. He was someone Bernie was supposed to be able to trust. He was scared, and betrayed, and wasn't sure if leaving would really make things better or worse. His body was old, but inside he was still a little puppy who didn't understand why his owner hated him, and wondered if maybe he deserved it."

Bruce looked down at Dick, who was leaning against Bruce's chest and staring quietly at the ground.

"Annie may not have been hit, but being verbally abused and neglected can be just as damaging. Especially from someone you love and trust. She might've been technically able to just leave, pack up her things and find a shelter, but on the inside she was still a scared little girl. She knew she could leave, but she also didn't really know how. And a part of her didn't want to leave her family. A part of her still loved them. Maybe not much, and she probably denied it, said she hated them. But they were still family. The people who were supposed to love her, and care for her. But for some reason…they didn't. And that's something you can ever really understand and accept."

Dick was silent for several moments, and Bruce wondered if the boy had fully grasped what he'd said. He finally spoke.

"I think I get it." He sat up to look at Bruce. "I don't think I could just run away either. Not for very long. You and Alfred are really nice, it'd be confusing if you suddenly weren't. You'd have to have a reason for it, anyway. Something I did. At least…I would think so. And Annie thought so too. Right?"

Bruce nodded. "Right. So you see? It's never as easy as just leaving."

"Yeah…" Dick stared down at the ground again, then to the clear, blue sky above them. "I hope she's not scared anymore."

Bruce followed his gaze, a sad smile tugging at his lips.

"Me too."