The Boy with the Purple Eyes

Ok so just a little thing before I start the story...the italics are for what Matthew wrote even though this is technically in Gilbert's journal.

March 13, 1973

I visited Matthew's family again today to give them back the white bear. When I arrived at the house, I knocked on the door and waited. Nobody came so I knocked again, this time louder. Finally, the door opened, and I saw Arthur's grumpy face. He was surprised to see me at his doorstep. He asked me if anything had been found that would assist in finding his lost son. I told him about the videos, what they had caught, about the black car, and lastly about the man who took his son. His reaction to the news was strange to me. His facial expression never changed. It was as if he didn't care about his son. I expected some sort reaction, anything, a cry, a look of worry, even a smile, though that might have been quite suspicious. But I got nothing. Nothing but a frown and that had been plastered on his face when he opened the door. It puzzled me and struck a nerve deep within my heart. Why doesn't his father seem to care? When I was done explaining about the new evidence, I pulled out the white bear. I told him that I had found the bear at the site of where Matthew was kidnapped and that the reason that I came today was to give the bear back. Arthur then did something that completely surprised me.

He told me that he didn't want the bear back. He said and I quote, "I don't want the bear back. You can keep him. Matthew was always talking to the thing and plus, it's filthy. What are we going to do with a dirty stuffed animal?" To say that I was shocked is an understatement. If Matthew had cherished the bear, why wouldn't you keep it? It was something that was a part of him! Why wouldn't you keep it!? I was tempted to shove it at Arthur but that wouldn't be professional. I tried to make it seem that I wasn't as troubled as I was. I asked Arthur if it was ok if I looked for anything that would aid in the investigation in Matthew's room. He said it was alright and let me inside the house.

When I stepped into the house, I saw Alfred staring at me from the couch. He greeted me and ran up to me. He asked me how the investigation was going and if he had found his brother yet. I told him that we had found some clues and that Matthew hadn't been found yet. I also told him that I was going up to Matthew's room to see if he had anything that shed some new light on the case. Alfred then grabbed my hand and dragged me up the stairs to the upper floor of the house. For some strange reason, he dragged me to his room and opened the door.

I was amazed by the contents of the room. Shelves and shelves of trophies lined the walls. There were so many trophies that they littered the floor. I have never seen so many of them in one place. I turned to look at Alfred and I asked why he had brought me here. He shrugged and led me to another room. He pointed at it and said that it was Matthew's. I looked at the door. It was the same as the other ones that lined the hallway, plain, white, and lonesome.

I opened the door, and walked inside. The room was the total opposite of Alfred's. Where Alfred's was filled with the feeling of accomplishment and the proof of it, Mathew's room was barren and empty. The walls were bare except for a bulletin board, with some papers pinned on it, on one of the walls and the desk that was placed against the opposite wall. The whole room was a plain, light shade of blue and it oozed loneliness and the feeling of being forgotten prevailed. I began my search for clues by looking in and around the desk. Inside one of the drawers was a journal. I picked it up and opened it to a random page where I saw neat, little, cursive words and letters. I decided to take the journal and analyze it to see if it will give any hints. You never know, I might find the case breaker…

I searched the room a little more and found nothing of interest as of right now. I exited the room and walked down the stairs, looking for Arthur or Alfred. I discovered them playing videogames in the living room. I waved to them even though they couldn't see me and told them thank you for letting me look in Matthew's room. Arthur paused the game and showed me to the door, saying that I could come back any time.

That family is so strange. One of their sons is kidnapped and yet instead of looking for him, two of them stay at home and play video games. I really don't understand. When I deal with people who have lost loved ones to murder they cry, they show emotion. These people, they show nothing, no emotion, not even a notion that their son is gone. It hurts me in ways that I never thought possible.

After leaving the house, I traveled back to the police station where I caught up with my brother. He had a look of disappointment on his face and it worried me. He saw me and ran up to me. When he arrived at where I stood, he gave me a serious face and asked me if I had found any new clues. I told him no but I did find the boy's journal. "Good" he told me, and then he went and explained that we had no more leads in the case.

I was astonished. "How!?" I yelled at him. We had the video proof, we had the bear, the car on tape, what more could you need? He told me that the video footage was too blurry to figure out the license plate number or the make of the car. Before that moment, I had never felt so disappointed, so useless, and hopeless. I have faced the most evil people on the planet, serial killers, spree murderers, assassins, and yet in all those cases I have never felt the emotion I have with this case. Now with every lead gone, all my hope to solve the case lies within the journal in my bag.

I told my brother that I would analyze the journal immediately and then I left to go home. When I got into the apartment that I call home, I changed into comfortable clothes and sat on the couch, journal in one hand and a notebook with a pencil in the other. I opened the journal and began to read the thoughts of a ten year old boy. These thoughts were not the thoughts that a normal ten year old would have. Those journal entries were the most painful things that I have ever read. One passage that caught my eye was this one:

"I won an art contest. I tried to show Papa and Dad my big blue ribbon and the drawing that I did, but they ignored me for my brother. Alfred had made the baseball team that he had tried out for. He was worried that he wasn't going to make it but I knew that he would. He was better than the other boys who had tried out. When he got the letter that said that he made it, he was so excited as were Papa and Dad. I wish that they would notice my accomplishment too. I know that I should be used to my parents ignoring me but it still hurts. Just once, I would like to be able to be shown affection."

That poor boy. Ignored by his parents in favor of his twin brother. It's no wonder that no one noticed the boy being kidnapped. It was like he was truly invisible from years of being ignored by his own family. If no one noticed him, who would? It was that moment that I silently promised the little boy that I would notice him, I would find him and give him the attention that he wanted. He wanted someone who would appreciate him and notice his accomplishments. I would fill that role since his own family couldn't. What am I thinking? I can't take care of the boy! Once I find him, I'll have to give him back to his parents. They're the ones who are technically his guardians and the cycle of being ignored will begin again. There's nothing I can do other than save him from wherever he is. Now that I think about it, is bringing him home to his family really a good decision? Is home really the heaven to the hell Matthew may be suffering now or is it reversed?

I continued to read the journal, and I stumbled upon a passage that may provide some sort of lead.

"I think that someone is stalking me. I never see the person but I have this weird feeling that someone is watching me. Everywhere I go I get that feeling. It scares me. I also hear these strange clicking sounds sometimes when I'm walking alone. I tried to tell my parents about everything but they ignored me as usual. Instead, I told Kumajirou since he always listens to me. He can't help me though, since he's just a stuffed bear. I hope that nothing will happen in the future and that the weird stalker feeling I have is just a figment of my imagination."

A stalker? The boy had a stalker? This was the lead I was looking for! It'll help the investigation immensely, or so I hope. The only bad thing is that I don't know how far it'll will take me. Like the video, this evidence will work well when we put the kidnapper on trial. It doesn't really help a lot right now.

When I was through with the journal, I looked at the clock. It was eleven pm. I closed the book and placed it on the coffee table. I then got up and got ready for bed, grabbing the white bear I kept, taking it with me. Before I go to sleep, I have to remember to bush the eraser shavings off of him. Kumajirou, that's what Matthew named him. I now have my own piece of the boy. Maybe he'll bring me closer to him. Hopefully he'll help me find him. I can only believe that Kumajirou will constantly remind me of him and bring me the strength to continue to endlessly search until I find him.

~Gill

I'm really sorry that I made Arthur and Alfred such bitches! I hope you guys don't mind. T.T So about the chapter, the pain that Gilbert feels is intensified...and so is his obsession with finding Matthew. I know how this story is going to end now and it's almost over. Maybe three or four more chapters, although I'm not so sure but the plot is all ready to be written down. Anyway, I love you guys! You keep giving me such good reviews and it's making me so happy. I can't believe how many hits I've gotten so far for this story, it's really somethin. :P As you know, please review! :D