Hey! So here's chapter four, I hope you enjoy it, and you can tell me by hitting the review button at the bottom! The last chapter was pretty harsh, and this one is basically Edward trying to put himself back together and his second steps to becoming the Riddler! Thanks! BTW still don't own Edward, only the smoking woman XD
"Why the hell are you sleeping here kid?" a voice awoke Edward from his sleep, after screaming at the sky and getting beaten up, he had been exhausted. He looked up to see a smoking woman with curlers still in her hair looking down at him.
She gasped at the site of his face, "Oh my god, are you all right?"
"Do I really look all right?" Edward sighed; really his face probably looked like he tried to pick a fight with a gorilla.
"I should call an ambulance, what happened to you?" she bent down almost touching his face, but she couldn't in case it brought the boy pain. Edward felt a pang of guilt for being sarcastic to the woman as she was truly worried about him.
He shook his head, "I don't want to pay for the bills, it'll be ok. I'll buy some band aids and Advil."
"Dear, this is going to take a lot more than band aids to heal that," she looked as if she was about to cry.
Edward knew the truth in her words, he couldn't see out of one eye because it had swollen up too much. The other felt bruised. His face stung where cuts were open, he didn't even want to look in a mirror. The woman bent down to hug Edward but he pushed her away. Strangers weren't supposed to hug you, parents were. But how was that going to happen if his father preferred punching to kindness and his mother had died when he was just a baby. Sometimes he suspected that his dad had done her in. The only thing that kept him from running away was the fact that his father had kept him, hadn't given him away, provided him with food, given him a home. But that last strand of hope had been cut with most of his face.
"Who did this to you?" she asked, it seemed to baffle her how another human being could do this to another. "Were you mugged?"
Edward couldn't help but laugh, "If only," and then for some reason he kept talking. It felt nice to be honest, to let go of his secrets. But at the same time, if he lied, it would only remind him of his father accusing him of cheating.
"My father, the stupid bastard. I won some money at school and he was jealous. So he took the money and beat the crap out of me," he laughed again but winced this time gripping his ribs. He had almost forgotten about his chest.
The woman's mouth was agape, "Beat you with what? A baseball bat? This is unacceptable, I should call the cops."
Edward shook his head, "Nah, not worth it." He paused, "I wouldn't mind something to eat," he grinned sheepishly. The woman could only stare at Edward's ruined face; she looked shocked that Edward didn't really care too much. He ran a hand through his tangled hair and he was a bit surprised at how little he cared too.
"Of course, I'll bring it up here. I don't think the neighbours would let you leave without care," the woman stood up looked over at Edward and proceeded back down the stairs.
Liar.
He knew where she really was going, to call the cops. Probably didn't even believe his story. Edward didn't waste any time he jumped back onto the fire escape, made sure his book and cube were in his sweater pocket.
"Why is everyone trying to trick me?" he pondered out loud. And it was true, the teachers, his father, this woman, and even himself. Well he found joy when he pulled the wool over peoples' eyes and he felt joy when he figured out another's plan.
Edward carefully landed on his feet, wincing in pain. He hobbled forward, and noticed people giving him odd looks. He stopped beside a store window, this was the moment.
"Shit," was the only thing he could say when he saw his reflection. He touched his face, the damage was brutal, but the swelling wasn't too bad. Probably from the cold of the night, but bruises were forming on most of his face. If not there was a cut in that one area. Edward pulled his hood on and collar up. He had to go to a pharmacy, and there was no way he was going to school today.
The bell rang as he pushed open the door of store, and he kept his head low and grabbed bandages, cream, alcohol wipes, gauze, an eye patch, aspirin and some cover-up. It was embarrassing to buy makeup, but he'd need it if he wanted to move normally through society again.
"That be everything?" the cashier was a young woman chewing loudly on her gum. She didn't even bother to look at her customers face.
Edward muttered quietly, "Yes, thank you."
"32.90"
He pulled out his wallet and slid over two twenties. He didn't mind spending money; he had bought most of the things over the internet illegally. Stealing other peoples information with the internet around was simple. After the site sent the product, he hacked in and deleted the sender information, simple yet effective. Spending his school days reading books and sites to teach him hacking skills had its benefits. Not on his grades of course.
After walking a few more blocks he made a stop at a fast food restaurant, he slid through the crowds of people demanding breakfast to the washroom. Thankfully the washrooms were made for one person.
"At least the bleeding stopped," Edward stated at his reflection. He worked quickly in case someone knocked. A quick rinse of the face and the dabbing of the wipes left his face stinging in pain. He put Polysporin on the cuts and band aids on top of them. He put added the cover-up on the bruises and placed the eye patch over his eye. The eye patch had two functions, stop anyone from noticing that he had been punched and to evoke pity in strangers. People would see him and think he lost his eye and they would leave him alone and not ask questions.
He'd already had an excuse if they asked, "I got mugged." Not only would it explain all of his injuries, but the teachers would feel as if they were to blame. For giving him the hundred dollars.
Edward looked up at his face again. It looked as if he had been beaten up a bit, but not nearly to the extent that occurred. The bandages looked odd, but didn't show his cuts.
He opened and closed his hands, clenching and then unfolding them, "Why me?" Edward said out loud. As much as he was glad he felt free from his father, he felt lonely. No one to call, to tell how much it fucking hurt, physically and emotionally. He was alone with his thoughts. He slammed his fists which had gauze wrapped around them.
"Screw other people, I don't need them. I can do everything on my own," he nodded at himself. His hair had dried slicked back, though it was still messy, Edward felt like some sort of suave business man. His blues seemed brighter with a slight purplish colour around them. With all the injuries his thin face looked thinner and the light made his pale skin look almost sickly. He turned away from the mirror.
As he walked out the restaurant, he knew where he was going to stay. He walked briskly toward the centre of the city of Gotham. He noticed something abnormal about the other citizens though. They walked quicker than usual, heads down, as if the dared not to look at anyone. If Edward remembered correctly, there had been something on the news about some big shot from China had been given to police. And something about the gangs of Gotham being taken down and if that was true, why would people be scared?
Edward shrugged it off, stupid criminals and he meant it literally. They just wanted money, or they somehow got a kick out of killing people. Those were those true psychopaths. These criminals just wanted an easy ride through life. But Edward wanted the opposite, he wanted a challenge. Something or someone to give his genius a run for its money. An outlet for his creativity. To show the world his brilliance. And he agreed, after cheating on the puzzle, the rush of doing something wrong was amazing. The chance he could get caught, but of course they were just too stupid.
He came to a stop in front of Gotham's library. The boy didn't head to the front door. He opened a door that said "Employees only" on the side and now stood in a beige room. He looked at the ceiling and found the one square he was looking for.
"Home sweet home," he grinned as he pulled a chair from a table and climbed into the ceiling. Edward crawled slowly across a metal bar until he reached the solid floor.
Around him was an old, long forgotten wing of the library. Once it served as the office of an engineer that went mad, there was a small staircase that leads to another floor with old bookcases filled with books. Many of which were studies of Leonardo Da Vinci. But also a few of Edward's belongs, a cord that siphoned off the library's power, and a window that looked out on Gotham.
A younger Edward used to hide in the library from his father, it felt safe, this place of knowledge. He had studied most of the books in the library since he could read. Mostly non-fiction, Edward felt like a vessel for mankind, a beaker of knowledge. He felt he knew more than any teacher could teach.
And he wanted to show off, but he knew he'd be bullied. There would always be people jealous of him. Like his father. On top of that, he wasn't a physically threatening person, and no friends to protect him.
He pushed all the thoughts off his mind and sat in a moth eaten couch. He didn't touch the books on Leonardo Da Vinci. With so much stress and pain, he just wanted to relax. So he took the book out of his sweater and began to read.
The Book of Riddles.
