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Ed lay under the bed of his Arkham cell, staring up at the metal support that held the sad slab the nurses called a mattress.
He’s safe under the bed, no one could hurt him under the bed, years of hiding under the one in his childhood home has proven that. He could play his video games, listen to music, journal all under a bed away from his father. Of course, that man was long gone but the habit stayed with him. Scarecrow and Harley may have talked amongst themselves about it knowing those two but Edward insists it’s just a bad habit that was too stubborn to leave him, nothing psychological to glean from it, no sir.
That didn’t stop the doctors from trying to over analyze this habit along with everything else in his life. Everything he chose to do in his past had to have made him a criminal apparently.
His father didn’t love him enough? That’s why he’s the Riddler.
He was an overachiever? That’s why he’s the Riddler.
His mother died at birth? That’s why-
It made Edward feel sick. Like everyone was telling him who he’s going to be and how he should act. Like he was under his father’s thumb yet again.
In Arkham he’s a child again. That sad, sad child who hid under the bed as someone screamed at him to act right and do better.