The Riddler's Daughter

The Truth

~Emily's POV~

A single bright light was stunning my vision. "Ouch." I groan, inhaling a large breath of fresh air. My eyes had yet to register anything. Images were colorful blurs which danced around on a blank canvas.

"Em focus on my voice...come on." A squeeze of a hand comforts me, as someone speaks in a calming tone. My head was spinning with images. The memories from my childhood, simple cons to large scale killings were all cluttering my mindset. One moment my father was by my side before the hallucination shattered like the glass frame around him. Everything went calm. A dream like state surrounded me, no noise to set me on edge, no thoughts to keep me tense. My eyes flutter close for sense of peace, thinking about absolutely nothing before they flicker back open in a soft fashion. A new swirl of images and color great them. Nothing felt real, nothing felt right. I was back in a vaguely familiar room, too fancy and clean to belong to myself.

"Emily? Thank god, you're awake." A soft voice came from beside me. My heart hoped for it to belong to my father yet even in this dream I knew it was not him. My father would never care if I was alive nor dead, he'd expect me to survive and be stronger than any fool. I slowly turn my head to the side, it was Jason. Why was he in my dream? I laugh lightly. He had a concern look on his face. Why was he so worried? "Do you remember anything?" Jason asked looking down at me.

I don't think before speaking which was rare. My mind had a direct connection to my lips as everything I thought spilled out of my mouth, "Yes, I remember a lot of stuff. You were at my house, Kane was waiting for me in the basement so he could make fun of me for -"

Jason expression dropped, seeming horrified with this new information. "Kane was in your basement!" His heart was beating so loud I could hear how nervous it sounded. I tap it lightly, it was like a drum. Boom-ba-boom boom. Questions like why was I telling him this? didn't even come to mind. My focus was not phased by the fact he was not supposed to know about Kane or my other life. Nothing seemed to matter.

"Yeah, but it was-"

He interrupted again, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"because I didn't want you to know." I looked at him with a small sigh. Why did he ask such a stupid question, Jason was smarter than that. "I don't trust you or anyone."

"Why don't you trust me?" Jason appeared to be insulted, "I've been here all along. I already told you I won't hurt you."

"Really? You won't hurt me? Isn't that what all guys your age say?" I rattle off before feeling a tinge of guilt. Then for some reason my mouth opened again to explain myself, answering his question why I didn't trust him. It was as if I needed to answer ever question he asked. "First off, I can tell you're hiding something. No one in Gotham is that nice. Secondly, I don't trust anyone, except my pops of course. It's not that you could hurt me but I you. Imagine all the trouble."

The look on his face softens, he seemed to take pity in me. "You couldn't hurt me."

I chuckle, shaking my head; "You obviously don't know me."

Again my comment gets on his nerves as he crosses his arms. "Not like you make getting to know you an easy task." He ran his hand through his dark brown hair. His hair looked so soft, I found myself wishing to touch it. "Emily was Kane the one who injected you with a needle."

"No." Again the truth slips from my mouth, I couldn't manage it. Why was I acting this way? Not in control of my own mouth. No, No I had to be in control. What would happen if he asked about Enigma, the other side to me and I spoke the truth. I'd have to kill him once Jason knew my connection to the Riddler. My heart sank a bit as reality came crashing down on me. Secrets are like puzzles, meant to be revealed in the end. All you had to do was ask the right questions or find the right pieces and the whole story would come falling down on itself, or at least that was what my dad would say. The heart monitor started to go faster and faster as I worried about the future of this conversation, even if it may be just a dream.