GOTHAM KNEW DARKNESS WELL.. AND THE WAYNE FAMILY NEVER OUTRAN ITS REACH. their grief played out like theater—always visible, always dissected. anaisa moved through it quietly, feeling the weight of expectation press in from every direction. outside the ballet studio, nothing she did seemed right. she was not happy enough, not broken enough. just… not enough. the scrutiny crept inward. soon, she was performing at home, too. emotions became choreography, rehearsed and controlled.
she built walls, high and silent—barriers meant to spare her father one more burden. he already carried too many. at times, the weight grew too heavy to bear alone, and the walls she built began to crack—just enough to pull her back to the family nest. her grand avenue apartment sat untouched, its quiet traded for familiar voices, its solitude for presence. she left the cold behind, drawn again to warmth.
anaisa reached for her father’s arm, clinging to it like a child desperate to be seen. the distance from her family had begun to erode something vital in her. too much had happened—too much left unspoken. she was tired of pretending. still, she knew he saw through her silence. he always did. these late hours stirred something restless in her, pulling memories to the surface. what was loved and lost. what could have been. what should have been.
“your bedtime stories always end the same way. that’s why i like them—they’re not as tragic as these cases.” she pulled a file from the cluttered table, folding her knees to her chest. her voice softened. she hesitated, looking pained by the thought. “i dreamt of something bad happening to me.”
