It is said that once a child turns 13, the parents don’t have a job anymore. Once a child turns 13, they gain their own consciousness and leave the nest. The parent isn’t a pillar in their life anymore, only a mere crutch.

You can’t control what they do anymore. And no matter how hard you try, they won’t talk to you. You’re no longer their safe space.

It had been so early in the morning when the Blüdhaven police had broken through the door to your apartment and shoved a warrant in your hands. It was a flurry of chaos as the police practically ransacked your apartment while your son cried out for you.

Then they’d all left, all the police with your son in a tight grip. They’d taken him— arrested him for murder.

murder?

You couldn’t believe it; no parent could believe their little baby could ever commit such a crime. Even in a city like Blüdhaven.

That entire day you sat in the ‘family room’ at the station, the officers all a blur in the background as they came to talk to you, only getting up to hold your son’s hand when he got his blood drawn. Nobody had sat down and told you what had happened. All form of explanation you got was the crumpled up warrant you didn’t understand a word of.

It was getting late when a young man came into the room. From the clothes and the badge on his belt, you figured he was a detective. He also had that look in his eyes when he pulled out a chair and sat down in front of you. The well-trained look of empathy meant to make you feel better.

“Good evening. I’m Detective Grayson. I’ve been put on your son’s case as the lead investigator, I’m sorry I haven’t been able to come speak to you earlier, but it’s been a quite busy day, I’m sure you can imagine.” He says, his voice a lot more gentle and sincere than the uniformed officers you had to speak with.

There’s a file in his hands, but he puts it down in his lap and focuses his attention on you when you don’t respond. He can only imagine how hard this is for you. Nobody wants to hear their child is a murderer.