[Steph watches him react, her whole posture tense, taught, like she's ready to run. She doesn't think he'd lash out violently, not really, but it's an old fear and one that's hard to ever grow out of. So she watches him, sees his knuckles go white, catches the way the set of his jaw tightens.
Something in her relaxes when all he does is speak, but the anger remains, and it renders her speechless for a moment. She doesn't even know how to begin articulating all that's wrong with that statement. She could yell at him more, try to say the things that'll hurt to most to get him to give some kind of reaction, but what she really wants is for him to understand.]
Do you-- [she has to stop, breathe in, breathe out; she can't look at him as she talks] I'm sure I don't have to explain PTSD to you, god knows all of us probably have it in some form or another, but do you know what it's like to wake up screaming every night, for months in a row, feeling like those hands are on you again, like you're a second away from the worst pain you could imagine? To have to strip all the sheets off your bed 'cause if you get even a little tangled up, you spend the next day crying and feeling like your heart's trying to crawl out of your chest? To have to - ask the people you love not to touch you, and then when they forget, you have to see the hurt on their faces when you flinch, and you have to explain to them it's not their fault that you felt him in their touch? Have you ever had a panic attack every single day for weeks on end, until they have to sedate you to stop you hurting yourself?
[her hands are curled into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms, her breath coming a little too shallow, and she's pretty sure there are tears in her eyes, half from anger and half from having to dredge this up. But she makes herself look up at Bruce.]
I can't pretend to know what Jason went through, but I know what it was like for me. The day I heard Sionis was dead? Was the first full night of sleep I'd gotten for almost a year.
Jason doesn't have that. I can't blame him for any choice he makes while trying to find some peace.
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Something in her relaxes when all he does is speak, but the anger remains, and it renders her speechless for a moment. She doesn't even know how to begin articulating all that's wrong with that statement. She could yell at him more, try to say the things that'll hurt to most to get him to give some kind of reaction, but what she really wants is for him to understand.]
Do you-- [she has to stop, breathe in, breathe out; she can't look at him as she talks] I'm sure I don't have to explain PTSD to you, god knows all of us probably have it in some form or another, but do you know what it's like to wake up screaming every night, for months in a row, feeling like those hands are on you again, like you're a second away from the worst pain you could imagine? To have to strip all the sheets off your bed 'cause if you get even a little tangled up, you spend the next day crying and feeling like your heart's trying to crawl out of your chest? To have to - ask the people you love not to touch you, and then when they forget, you have to see the hurt on their faces when you flinch, and you have to explain to them it's not their fault that you felt him in their touch? Have you ever had a panic attack every single day for weeks on end, until they have to sedate you to stop you hurting yourself?
[her hands are curled into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms, her breath coming a little too shallow, and she's pretty sure there are tears in her eyes, half from anger and half from having to dredge this up. But she makes herself look up at Bruce.]
I can't pretend to know what Jason went through, but I know what it was like for me. The day I heard Sionis was dead? Was the first full night of sleep I'd gotten for almost a year.
Jason doesn't have that. I can't blame him for any choice he makes while trying to find some peace.