Riddle me a suicide... (A Riddler tragedy)

A life born in shadows.

Wind ruffled Edward's hair lightly as he stood in a cemetery, the morning dew barely beginning to settle. Neither the sun nor moon was up, almost ridiculing any fool who'd be awake at this hour. The other gravestones stood quietly, dusty from the false promises of family. Hands stuffed into the depths of his pockets, Eddie reread the stone in front of him for the hundredth time.

Dave Nashton

1966-2012

Nothing more, nothing less. No last words of memory, no message to family. Just a simple rounded stone, with a name and a date. No one would know who lay there, it was a name in a field of names.

It scared Edward.

When his father died, no one came to him, whether out of sympathy or accusation. He went to research that Eddie wasn't even shown as his son. He didn't exist. And now, 2 years later, any and all information on little Edward Nashton, the son of a nobody, had been wiped out. Deleted by himself, in an effort to remove all traces of the past.

Easier said than done.

Edward still visited here, at his father's grave, on the anniversary of his death. Why? The only reason he could think was regret.

That's all his life was.

A timeline of regret.

His father's death had been confirmed by medical examiners as suicide. If only they knew.

It was Eddie who pulled the trigger.

It sounded cliche, but he could still remember the day like it was yesterday.

He had had enough of his father. Enough of the abuse, the pain, the tears. Walking into their small apartment, he'd watched his father, drunk and rambling in a chair. Eddie grabbed a small pistol, the only memory left of his mother. She'd left two bullets in it. Edward had knocked his father onto the ground, holding the gun at his throat. He looked down, expecting to see fear, regret, pain, anything. Instead his father just chuckled and grinned. "You won't do it." He said, "You're too much of a coward, just a failure." No last admittance of love, no declaration of pride. Just another insult. Fueled by rage, Edward pulled the trigger, his father still grinning as he died.

A single drop hit the stone and splattered out, darkening the stone. A tear.

"You idiot." Edward talked to his deceased father. "After everything you did to me, to my mother, I still loved you. You IDIOT! I LOVED you! Don't you see how hard it was?!" He practically screamed at the stone. "You never deserved my love, and still I couldn't hate you. I couldn't kill you. I had to become something else, someone else. That persona stuck with me, and now it's all I am. And I have to live everyday with a reminder of you. Ironic almost, isn't it?"

He looked up, wiping tears from his eyes, as the sun rose and a long shadow was cast over him and the grave. The shadow came from the hill, where a large monument-like grave stood. Even from this distance, Edward could read the names.

Martha Wayne. Thomas Wayne.

He almost felt himself sneer. The Waynes. Before he'd become the Riddler, their company had made a fool out of him. The beloved son, Bruce Wayne, decoding a computer quicker than him, the best cryptographer in the nation. And now, here he stood in the shadow of their legacy.

Edward heard the tell-tale swoosh of a cape and another shadow went over him as Batman stood before him. Was that all his life was? Just living in the shadows of other people? Always darkest just before the dawn? Ha, he'd probably be stuck in the shadows for as long as time.