Chapter Text
It happened when you were a child.
You were still considered a child in many countries, but the incident you were heavily researching into happened when you were so young, your earliest memories were blurry and held little substance. However, what stood out to you was not cold, hard facts about what happened, but what you felt. You could remember the feeling of your mother’s touch embracing you while you slept in your arms, of your father’s strong grip steering you away from trouble.
There was laughter.
There were tears.
But most of all, there was love.
And then you lost it.
Well, you didn’t lose love. You’ve had love all this time, but it wasn’t the love that most people would imagine, but a sort of affection that you could only describe as well meaning, but restrained. Boundless, but strict. True, but false.
Ever since your parents had been put behind bars, you had been handed into the custody of the strangest man you had ever met. You could barely remember the tears and the confusion when you finally realized that your parents were never coming back to tuck you into bed, to say their “I love you’s”, or to smile at you in a way that was comforting. What you did remember, however, was the fact that no sooner did your tears finally dry and your sobs subside that you were placed in a clean hotel room with nothing more than the basic amenities and a television screen with a flashing letter L.
And that was when you met him.
At first, you weren’t quite sure about the strange voice who spoke to you from the screen, but eventually you came to trust the man. Over time, you’ve come to associate his voice with comfort and luxury. That voice would command the old man that would attend to you with attentiveness. He would provide the most delicious foods, fashionable clothing, and an education that would make countless children green with envy. The voice was your salvation in those early years, especially in the wake of your parents’ imprisonment.
However, looking back on your childhood, you came to the startling conclusion that even if you were treated with great adoration (or as much adoration as you could get from a synthesized voice), you had no choice but to comply. You were still a child seeking love and validation. While you did get that in the form of material items, you still yearned for your parents.
And that was the kicker wasn’t it?
Every time you tried to broach the topic of your parents or make allusions to your past, either the old man or the computerized voice would shut the conversation down or ignore your pleas altogether.
Eventually, you gave up.
Eventually, you came to embrace this new lifestyle that offered the comforts any child should have, but without the love that you craved.
And eventually, you were finally given the freedom to use the internet and go out on your own.
The first thing that you did? Visit the library and get as much information as possible about your parents’ convictions.
Almost immediately, you began to see the discrepancies, the conflicting witness statements, and the mixed public opinion about the publicized trial. You were a bright child—your benefactor had seen to that—but it didn’t take a genius to realize that your parents were framed and the person behind it all was none other than the famed detective who had taken you under his wing. Your parents were good people, there was no way people would think that they were criminals!
At your core, you were confused and frightened. How could anyone let this happen? It was obvious that the criminal investigation had been botched, but you supposed that with the right mind and enough money, you could get away with anything.
Perhaps you were gifted with exemplary skills of deduction and observation, but could people be so stupid as to be duped by such a ploy?
And if so, to what end?
Why did your strange benefactor steal you from your family? What benefit were you to him?
“You were always a smart one. Not as smart as other children, but I suppose that can’t be helped.”
You sat in front of your computer, the synthesized voice seemingly as bland and monotonous as always. However, over the years, you could somewhat detect whenever the voice began to develop an emotional tone to it. For instance, the way the computerized voice seemed lighter and buoyant at the end of his sentence was layered in mild amusement.
“It’s true then?” You edged closer now, insistence making you seem younger than what you already were. Your fists clenched. If you wanted to get all the answers you wanted, you had to keep your anger in check lest you punch the screen in frustration. “You punished my parents for no reason than… What? You wanted to rub it in their faces that you’re raising their child?”
This time, you were rewarded with brittle laughter. Sometimes, you like to imagine what your benefactor actually sounded like in real life. When you were a child, you often thought that he would sound a lot like the old man who tended to you whenever your benefactor wasn’t speaking to you. Now, though, with all the research about your parents filling your mind, you could only imagine some mastermind criminal leering at you.
“I can hardly rub it in their faces if I have not had contact with them in years. The only benefit that I can see was that I got to raise you.”
You scoffed, the anger mounting.
“As if raising a child consists of an old man who won’t tell you anything, a screen with a robotic voice, and changing hotel rooms.”
“And yet you’re still here.”
“I won’t be. Not for much longer.” You gestured to the bed behind you. There, resting on the rumpled covers was a suitcase and a backpack that was filled to the brim with all of your essentials and a few of your favorite baubles. You had to bribe the old man to leave you alone the past few hours, but that was more than enough time for you to prepare and confirm with what few friends and contacts you had to be on standby. “I’m leaving and I don’t want you to contact me or interfere anymore than what you’ve already done so far.”
“Oh? And what shall I do when you eventually come back?”
That amusement again.
You hated it.
“You may have raised me—as loose as your definition may be—but you don’t know me. Goodbye.”
Before he could even think about reprimanding or threatening you, you threw the computer onto the ground and stormed towards the bed. As the straps of your backpack dug deep into your shoulders and the handle of your suitcase was gripped tightly in hand, you glanced around the room before heading towards the door.
Your strange benefactor’s love was as meaningless as the sparsely decorated hotel room you left behind.