It was a windy autumn day in London. I could see the leaves in shades of red and yellow being drifted away by the breeze. I was about six years old. I clutched the hand of a tall man who stood beside me. Then, I heard the music start. It was the sound of a marching band. My face lit up with joy and amusement as I looked up and smiled to the man next to me.

"See, Elle. Daddy told you he would take you out someday." he smiled back.

We watched the parade until the music started fading away. The band was getting farther and farther away from us, until they disappeared, as if they no longer existed.

"Well, I guess it's time to go." said the man next to me. This man was no other than Detective John Lawliet. A man of justice, my role model, my father.

"There's another place I would like to visit." I told him.

"Where is that?" he asked.

"I'll show you." I replied and pointed to the north. I showed him the way, pointing to turns in the road, being the navigator telling people where to go. We finally stopped at a small, quaint flower shop run by a nice old woman.

"The flower shop? What could you possibly want here, my boy?" he asked, confused.

I answered "Flowers... for Mum."

He just said "Oh."

"Don't you think she misses us, Daddy? We haven't visited her in a while. She might get lonely." Although I was a prodigy, whose intellect surpasses that of any other six year old and even some adults, I was just a child, young and naive.

"Don't worry, Elle. She won't get lonely. She's already gone. She's watching us right now, from Heaven."

"But don't you think she would like it if she saw us buying her flowers and visiting her grave, from Heaven?" I pouted.

"She would appreciate it." He said, sounding a bit lonely.

We entered the shop and my father bought a small bouquet of daisies and roses. It was an unusual combination, but they were my mother's favorites.

Our house was just a short walk from the shop, walking to the cemetery would take much longer. We could always drive there, since we had a car at home, but my father never drove to the cemetery. Not very long ago from that time, my mother died in a car crash. It hurts my father to take a car while visiting her. Although I was still very young, I understood his feelings. And so, we walked to the eerie graveyard where Mum was buried. That place never scared me, or creeped me out, but I found it rather depressing.

I stood before my mother's grave as I carefully set down the flowers. My memory about the rest of that day was all blurry.

It was strange how I had no memories prior to that day. It was my most precious memory. Exactly two years after that very day, my father was fatally injured in a shootout. I remember standing next to him, in his hospital bed. He said "Son, when you grow up, will you be the savior of the broken, the beaten, and the damned."

I said "Yes." and I watched him as his life faded away. I felt the tears roll down my cheeks, my eyes were sore from all the crying. Even if I knew that tears would never bring him back. I was alone. I was afraid. I had no other family, I didn't know what was going to happen to me after that. Miraculously, on that same day, Watari found me. He was a kind, old inventor who ran an orphanage in Winchester, England. His real name was Quillish Wammy, he was the one who took care of me from that day, on.

Watari and I took the train to Winchester on a cold winter day. Snow was falling slowly, and I liked it. The orphanage, Wammy's House, looked like a mansion and was surrounded by an iron fence. I squeezed Watari's hand before we walked through its welcoming gates and into the big, wooden doors. I saw that the interior looked as beautiful as it did outside. There were stained glass windows and there was a nice fireplace to keep us warm. I took off my mittens and went by the fire to warm up. After I settled down a bit, Watari asked me for my name. I was unable to speak for the entire day, due to some kind of psychological trauma from the death of my parents. I had no other feelings or evidence of trauma after they died, I moved on quickly and felt nothing. It was only the tears that followed their deaths and my inability of speech for a day, nothing else. I couldn't speak and I had nothing to write with, so instead of saying my name, I used every letter of the sign language alphabet that I knew. Back then, I didn't know sign language, just three letters of it. Three letters wasn't enough to spell my name, but it was just enough to say it. I lifted my right hand and put my pinky up. "I." Then, I put my thumb under three fingers. "M." Lastly, I made a symbol that clearly says "L."

I-M-L. I am Elle. I'm L.

He understood what I was trying to say.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, L." said Watari.