History

Trigger Warnings mentions of murder, alcholism, kidnappings

"James! Where are you?!"

Even now you still hear the sounds of your mother's wails when your brother went missing during the weekly trip to the park. A trip that you had always looked forward to because it was the one day you came together as a family. It would also be the last time your family was whole. Barely six years old, and already you were exposed to the worst of humanity. What were you two even fighting about? You can't remember. Why didn't you look after him? You wish you knew. What remained clear was that your life would never be the same after that day. Much of what happened in the days following your brother's disappearance was all a blur to you. Police were seen coming and going constantly, hours were spent combing the park by friends and neighbours, and the newspaper splashed your brother's face at every chance.

All the while, your family was falling apart before your very eyes. Your mother could barely stand to look at you most of the time. At best she blamed you for this and at worst wished you had been taken and not your brother. Your father tried extremely hard in those early days to hold this family together. Though it wore on him horribly, you never saw it. Sadly, there would be no happy reunion, and eventually, the search was called off. Your mother, who had taken ill at some point during those weeks, would eventually die not two days after, with some speculating it was due to a broken heart. It proved to be too much for your father, leading him to make the desperate decision to send you to live with your estranged aunt in London on your mother's side. The only bit of your mother's family that hadn't entirely written your mother off after having decided to marry below her station. Turns out your mother's family was part of a fairly respectable upper-class family. You never did see your father again after that day.

Life at your aunt's provided a difficult albeit rewarding transition for you. She was not as openly affectionate as your mother, but she wasn't cruel and raised you as if you were her own. With no husband and no children of her own, you were her sole priority. As such, she was able to provide you with every advantage that came with her rank. Gone were the days of playing in the mud and eating "like an animal," though you certainly strived to maintain your mischievous side. Replaced instead by time with private tutors and learning how to be a proper gentleman. At times, you find it hard to imagine coming from such a humble background, and despite your difficulties, you thrived under the new lifestyle. Yet, your brother's disappearance was never far from your mind. With it came the desire to become part of the police force despite your aunt's eagerness to take up something more befitting a gentleman. Time went on, and you grew into quite a handsome, strapping young boy, and with it came the bitter reminder that you would soon be expected to wed. This proved to be a continuously sore subject between you and your aunt.

Your aunt wanted to see you arranged while in your heart you wanted to find love. The kind of love you thought you saw once while sitting on a park bench with your sketchbook. You didn't know the couple or anything about them, but as you watched them interact with each other a short distance away, you just knew. You managed to foil your aunt's annoying attempts to play matchmaker, but you knew it was only a matter of time. So while you struggled along in your pursuit of love, your attention turned to that of becoming a police officer. Weeks and months were spent poring over books and making sure you were fit enough to meet police standards. You were around eighteen years old when you met the soon-to-be two most important ladies of your life. The first, unsurprisingly, came in the form of young Victoria Blackwell, a lady of respectable standing whose family was closely connected to that of your aunt. She was admittedly a beautiful young lady and easily the pride of her father's eye. When she walked into a room, people noticed, as did you. To this day you still have no idea what it was that she saw in you.

The other came in an unexpected exchange at a pub one night with Miss Charlotte Turner. An illustrator for the Morning Post newspaper. Much like Victoria, Charlotte was a beautiful young lady, but unlike Victoria, there proved an instant connection that soon sparked into a friendship. While Victoria was quite content with the world and uninterested in seeking anything beyond what she already had, Charlotte challenged you to want more out of life and change with the times. She was also the one to congratulate you when you finally became part of the London police force at just twenty years of age. A job that you excelled at, much to your aunt's annoyance. Things were slowly settling into place with only one question on everyone's mind: who would you marry?

The answer would prove to be rather complicated, for though you cared very much for Victoria, you could never quite let Charlotte go. Yet, Charlotte had always maintained her desire for friendship with you rather than romance. Even when you so jokingly asked her to marry you one day while on a walk, she rejected your advances. Not wishing to end up alone forever, you proposed to Victoria despite her father's clear dislike of you and her at times cruel mockery of you in public. At least your aunt seemed happy. Charlotte was not, leading to you fighting just days before your engagement party, where she beseeched you to end things under the idea that she wasn't good for you. You parted ways bitterly that day, and that seemed the end of things until the day of your engagement party. Everything was going more or less well that evening as you prepared yourself. You'll never understand what compelled you that day to stop by Charlotte's place of work that night. Whatever the reason, you did just in time to find the building broken into and Charlotte unconscious on the floor of her office. Long were those hours in the hospital waiting to hear any news at all about Charlotte's prognosis. You had already lost so much in your life; you couldn't bear to lose just one more person. Miraculously, Charlotte survived her attack, and in the days leading to her recovery, she traded secret confessions with you. You were now faced with a choice. To end your ties with Miss Blackwell to pursue something with Miss Turner or stay the course.

No one would ever know your true intentions when you came face to face with your fiancée. Nobody ever would, for on that day your decision was chosen for you with two simple words: I'm pregnant. A gentleman to your core, you could not in good conscience abandon your child, and thus at 21 years old, you finally married Miss Victoria Blackwell. Your child was born not 8 months later. And for a while that was all you knew. When you weren't at work, you were at home being a father and husband. It wasn't the happy life you envisioned, but it was a good life. You saw very little of Charlotte since the day you told her that you were going to be a father. Time passed you by, and things seemed to have finally settled for you. You were rising up the ranks of the police department, and your daughter was flourishing under your and your wife's care. You had everything you could ever want, but tragedy would strike you yet again. You had survived the loss of your brother and scraped by losing the rest of your family, but the worst was still to come.

For several weeks you had been investigating a grisly set of murders deep in known gang territory. You had been told multiple times to let it go and not get involved, but like a dog with a bone, you pursued it. It would prove your own destruction when you would come home late from work one night to find your beautiful wife of eight years slain. You couldn't prove it, but you knew the gang was involved, and with little to go on, you had to watch as once again someone you loved was taken from you. You may not have loved your wife the way she deserved, but you still had never wavered in your marriage to her. After that, you fell into a deep despair of which it was unclear if you'd ever recover. Your only reason to live now lay in your eight-year-old daughter, whom you were desperate to protect at any cost. Even if that included sending her to live far away from you with a trusted mentor. Dark days lay ahead of you as you numbed your sorrow with alcohol and got into petty fights in bars. You were but a shell of who you had been.

It would take almost 7 years to get yourself back together again, but you were never the same. Despite a long, outstanding career with the chance of making chief, you took leave from the police department. Instead, take a less demanding position as a private investigator with the hope that the quieter lifestyle might bring less attention to you and your remaining child. Of your daughter, you never heard or saw from her again, as you believed it too risky, instead throwing yourself into every case. At times, perhaps even recklessly. You no longer know such happiness as you did in your youth. The world is a cold and dark place to you now. You no longer live...you endure waiting for death or fortune to favour you once more.