There will always be 'moving on' things. Like when you're moving to a new town, you drop a book in the tub, or your phone in the sink. You can move on from these things relatively easy. Then there is trauma. The one thing in the world that doesn't care who you are, what you've been through, how mentally messed up you are, or even if you're the good guy. Trauma is the one thing that will take and NEVER give back. Trauma is the one thing that is impossible to move on from. Trauma is the one thing you can never escape. You have to live with both the physical and mental scars left by trauma. Take it from somebody who knows. My name is Richard John "Dick" Grayson. I have lived with trauma laughing in my face every day. And I believe it's time I started laughing back.

The lights shone down into the middle of the ring, right onto the ringmaster. I looked at my brother on his trapeze platform. It didn't feel the same without her. It hasn't ever since she ran away a year ago. My older brother gave me a sympathetic look and then he tried at a reassuring smile. It didn't work. He had told me multiple times how he hated seeing me like this. I never listened.

"And now, let me present to you, Haley's Circus' signature group... The Flying Graysons!" I heard Haley yell below to the crowd. I could feel the lights move from the center ring to shine onto the four trapeze artists on the towering platforms above.

The music started and I looked over to see my dad jump off his platform and swing on his trapeze. Mom looked at me once and nodded, before copying dad. Next was my brother to jump. I was about to follow before I heard the sound that would haunt me for the rest of my life.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

I watched my family drop to the group soon after the gun and been shot. I had hoped that they would fall harmlessly onto the safety net. That this was all a new act of the show that I hadn't been informed on. That they would still be alive. I looked down to see the bloody bodies, not fumbling around on the safety net, but splattered against the ground. There was no safety net. They had fallen like flies onto the cold, hard earth below. Tears streamed down my face as I stared down. I was about to cry out when a hand covered my mouth. I stared back at the face that had stopped me from screaming. It didn't look threatening. It looked normal. He whispered into my ear.

"My name is Bruce Wayne. I will find the man who did this to them. Until then, you'll be safe with me."

We left the circus. Never going back.

The moment you realize a trauma, it is just as bad as being bolted to the wall with nails. You have suicidal thoughts, regrets, nightmares. I only made it through because the man who did that was still out there. I am still alive only because she was still alive. Somewhere. And I'm determined to find her.