A Gilded Cage

Link to article: A Gilded Cage.


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[[include component:preview
text=“Tell me, Violet,” she said, “have you ever wondered what the outside world is like?”
The question caught me off guard.
“But father says it isn’t safe.”]]
=====

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[[>]]
[[include :scp-wiki:info:start]]
**Tale:** A Gilded Cage
**Author:** [[*user Nullscape]]
**Published:** December 4th, 2025
[[include :scp-wiki:info:end]]
[[/>]]

[[=]]
+ A Gilded Cage
[[/=]]

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[[=]]
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[[image http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/a-gilded-cage/violet.png style="width:64px;"]]
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[[/=]]

[[=]]
++ Violet Weston

++++ Daughter
[[/=]]

I woke up to the gentle rustling of the curtains.

The light filtered between the velvet drapes, casting a soft glow on the walls. I smiled, taking in the warmth of the sun. Waking up like this had always been one of my favourite ways, second only to my father gently shaking me awake. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, stepping onto the polished marble floor. I paused, looking around the room and breathing in the slight lavender scent. The sprawling gardens outside my window bloomed, meticulously cultivated yet remaining wild at heart.

Life had been like this for as long as I could remember. Sixteen years of sunrises, and everything stayed unchanged. The room, the garden, everything.

Stepping outside my room, I was greeted with the familiar quietness of the hallway. The marble floor glistened as I moved, my bare feet making no noise. The night before, I remembered leaving behind trails of mud that I tracked in from the garden, but as always, whatever mess I left behind was always cleaned by the time I woke up.

As I made my way downstairs, the scent of breakfast gradually became stronger. It was a familiar mixture of freshly baked bread and rich coffee, but today, I caught a whiff of something new, something different. It wasn’t often that the breakfast was changed; I quickened my steps at the thought that I might be able to try something new today.

I walked into the dining room, past the ornate tiles. Lining the windows were flowerpots that were changed daily; today, it was pink roses. A long glass table sat in the centre, stretching across the room. Something like a cake sat on the table; the bottom part was hard and crusty, and the top part was filled with an assortment of fruits. I didn’t know what it was, but it smelled delicious. I settled into my seat near the end of the table, grabbing a fork and knife.

I looked up as muffled voices came from the door. It opened, and my father stepped into the room, followed by two men in suits. His eyes lit up as he saw me, as did mine. I quickly stood up and ran into his embrace.

“Good morning, Violet,” my father said, his voice warm as he hugged me tight. “How did you sleep?”

“I slept well, thank you,” I replied, stepping back and returning his smile.

Both of the men were unfamiliar, but that wasn’t unusual. I had learnt not to question it, so I kept my mouth shut and moved on. No matter who they were, the suits always averted their eyes as if they dared not acknowledge my existence. My father turned around and nodded toward them, and they swiftly walked away from the room. I pivoted on my heels, skipping back to my seat. I couldn’t wait to begin eating this fruity cake food.

My father joined me at the head of the table, visibly carefree. He reached for the coffee pot, pouring some into his mug. I couldn’t help but admire the effortless precision he had; his movements were both graceful and elegant.

I took a huge bite of the fruit, and then stilled. It tasted like someone made a rainbow edible, so many different flavours blending in my mouth.

My father looked up at me, smiling. “Does the fruit tart taste good?”

“Is that what it’s called? A fruit tart? It tastes so good!”

“I thought you would like it. I made sure you would get the best one.”

I continued to devour the fruit tart, stealing occasional glances up.

“Do you have any plans today?” he asked after a few moments.

“Not really, but maybe I’ll go shade or sketch some of the flowers in the garden after the tutoring.”

He nodded, his expression shifting again to one that I now learnt to be approval. “That sounds lovely, Violet. The roses should still be in full bloom right now.”

His smile was so genuine and infectious, the kind that reminded me of summer. As I dove into my breakfast again, the door clicked open, and the two men in suits returned. In an instant, the atmosphere shifted. The two men were tall and imposing, not showing a single hint of emotion. One of them, seemingly the superior of the two, cleared his throat. I tensed, my smile falling from my face. They were stealing my father’s attention from me.

“Apologies for the interruption, Mr Weston. We have a few urgent matters to discuss,” he said, his tone formal.

My father’s demeanour darkened, and the comfort of our previous conversation slipped away, replaced by a cold and professional tension. I watched him as he straightened, setting down his mug with pinpoint precision.

“Of course, if you’d just give me a moment,” he replied, his voice steady. Nodding toward me, he added. “Violet, why don’t you take your time and enjoy your breakfast? It’ll just take a few minutes.”

“Okay,” I said. A knot in my stomach tightened from uncertainty. Sometimes, he would just disappear for hours, days, or even weeks without notice.

My father got up from his seat and disappeared into the adjacent room, followed by the two men. I knew better than to follow, though. His office and room were always off limits, no matter the situation. I absent-mindedly toyed with the [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-399 ring] on my finger, the fruit tart suddenly feeling heavy in my mouth.

When I first received the ring from my father, I was ecstatic. It was made of two metallic bands with a thin, transparent purple glass between them. A “gift from your mother” was what he said when he handed it to me, telling me to never take it off. Whenever I felt scared, the glass seemed to glow slightly, but it always seemed too subtle to be real.

A few minutes passed, and my father returned to the dining room. For a brief moment, I was excited, but the conversation that I didn’t hear seemed to be etched into his face. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You know how business is.” He said as he sat back down.

“It’s fine,” I replied. There were always moments like this, where people would just barge in and pull my father away. Somehow, I never got accustomed to it. “Do you need to go somewhere?”

He hesitated as if pondering whether or not to tell me. “Sadly, yes. A problem came up at the company. I’ll be gone for a few days.”

“Okay,” I said softly.

As he finished his coffee, our conversation flew back into lighter, happier territory. I put on a smile that didn’t quite meet my eyes, hoping to mask the gloominess settling within me. There had been a time a few years ago when he would be home for months. But in the past few years, he had been gone for longer times, appearing for brief moments.

After a few more hurried bites, my father picked up his briefcase, already half-turned toward the door when I called out, “Dad?”

He paused, turning back to me. For a moment, I froze. I felt the urge to voice everything I had hidden away. I wanted to tell him to stay, to not go wherever he went. I even, for a brief moment, felt the urge to ask what kind of work was more important than me. But I forced them back down, and all that came out was, “Have a good day.”

He smiled, “You too, Violet. Remember to study hard today.” And just like that, he was gone, leaving behind a trail of silence that felt way too familiar and empty.

Once I finished my breakfast, I stood up, pushing back from the table. I needed air. I needed to hear something other than nothingness.

I slipped out through the sliding glass door, the warmth of the sun immediately hitting my skin. There were always distant roars and rumbles, with occasional beeps. Sometimes, I heard muffled voices outside the hedge, but they were never clear enough to understand. Long ago, I had tried to climb over the hedge to see beyond it, but I was quickly pulled down before I had the chance. That day, I received such a serious lecture from my father that I didn’t dare do it again.

The vibrant colours of the flowers greeted me, and I finally exhaled. Here, I could escape the absence of my father, even if it was surrounded by towering bushes that blocked the outside world. I told myself I didn’t need whatever was outside; it wouldn’t be safe anyway. In here, I had everything.

-----

[[=]]
[[size xx-small]]@@ @@[[/size]]
[[image http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/a-gilded-cage/alistair.png style="width:64px;"]]
[[size xx-small]]@@ @@[[/size]]
[[/=]]

[[=]]
++ Alistair Weston

++++ O5-5
[[/=]]

The face of Violet before I left was one of disappointment and sorrow. I turned around quickly to avoid looking into those eyes. Her eyes always had something deeper within, just like her mother.

Another thought I needed to avoid so I could keep my composure. I needed to do my job properly, even if it cost the one I loved most in the world. That was why Violet was here. That was why she was kept here her entire life.

To protect her. To protect me. And most importantly, to protect the Foundation.

“Good morning, O5-5.” A stern voice to my right said, knocking me back to reality.

“Morning, Zenith.” I hid my flare of irritation. The man always had to look like an undertaker, but at least he was good at his job.

Zenith opened the door to the SUV for me, gesturing for me to get inside. “Worried for Violet again, sir?”

I sighed; Zenith could always read my thoughts. It was one of the perks of having him as my personal advisor; he understood me fully.

“You know how it is.”

“Must be difficult.” He said, climbing into the seat next to me.

The SUV roared to life, and we began moving down the long, winding driveway. I stared out the window for a long time, thinking about Violet in that home. It didn’t matter how big it was; it never could replace the vastness of the open world. I could buy her more books; of course, it would be vetted by Zenith, but maybe it would keep her more occupied when I wasn’t there.

“I have been thinking about replacing Violet’s biology tutor,” I said, flipping through a file. “He seems off.”

“Sir… It’s pretty difficult to find personnel who agree to tutor a kid when they have no idea what the job actually entails. We aren’t known for giving out ‘normal’ tasks, you know.”

“Just do it.”

Of course, I did understand the difficulty of hiring personnel for the job, but Violet’s education and safety were always my primary concerns. There was a time, a few years ago, when one of the tutors tried to give Violet information about the outside world. Thankfully, Zenith had quickly dismissed the tutor, and Violet never questioned it. Now, if a tutor seemed even a tiny bit suspicious to me, I would replace them in a heartbeat.

We rode in silence for a bit, and I began staring out the window.

“Oh, right, Ms Weston has asked for permission to visit Violet,” Zenith said, eyes still glued to the tablet in front of him.

I sighed. “Again?”

Anara Weston was Violet’s biological mother. Ever since our separation, I had rarely kept direct contact with her. I left Anara with everything she would ever need, including a phone number that could be used to call Zenith if she was ever in danger. Obviously, she used it for much less, like begging to see Violet. It was something I wished I could give, but never could.

“You can’t really blame her.” Zenith looked up at me. “A mother needs to see her child; it’s like instinct to them.”

I considered that for a moment. Violet had only ever asked once who her mother was, and it had caught me by surprise. I was so stunned that I’d accidentally scolded her too hard that day, lecturing her not to mention it again. She promised me she wouldn’t, and she didn’t. Nevertheless, I knew that she still wondered who her mother was, even if she wouldn’t voice it out.

“As much as I want to grant her that, we cannot ensure that we can avoid the information breach that will occur when she meets Violet. It’s just too risky.”

“Of course, I will notify her.”

I simply nodded; there was no point in dwelling on that decision.

“Now, onto some more pressing matters.” Zenith paused, his eyes back on the tablet. “It seems the situation in Site-98 has deteriorated.”

-----

[[=]]
[[size xx-small]]@@ @@[[/size]]
[[image http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/a-gilded-cage/violet.png style="width:64px;"]]
[[size xx-small]]@@ @@[[/size]]
[[/=]]

[[=]]
++ Violet Weston

++++ Daughter
[[/=]]

Loneliness.

That’s what I felt as I lay on my bed. It had been two days since my father left, and he still hadn’t come back yet. Loneliness always lingered around the corner, appearing when my father wasn’t here. I had never grown used to it, partly because it was impossible, but also because the loneliness was one with me.

An aspect of me that was constantly there. One that grabbed my heart and clenched it without warning.

Outside, the rain poured down, beating against the windows of my bedroom. The sun was still out when I entered the room, but now, the room was filled with dark shades of grey, shadows cast by clouds that reminded me of nothing and everything.

Lightning flashed, lighting up the area for a brief moment, followed by thunder. Still, I continued to stare upward. Our mansion had a pool, a game room, and even a movie theatre, but I rarely went there. Instead, I usually went to the garden outside, lying on the grass and observing the vibrant flowers all around me.

I couldn’t do that now, not with the thunderstorm outside.

Suddenly, I had an idea.

I leapt up from my seat and headed towards the door. Passing by idle men and women in suits who only nodded to acknowledge me, I finally reached the library. It was my second favourite place in this mansion, the towering bookshelves filled to the brim. Knowledge and information were all around me.

I carefully slid the old leather book from the shelf and sat down. This particular book was one of my most cherished, a botany encyclopedia filled with detailed sketches and descriptions of flowers all around the world. I flipped through the pages, stopping momentarily to admire the delicate flowers, imagining the scent of the blossoms and the textures of the petals.

I paused at a page focusing on roses. The garden outside had countless varieties, but the book depicted some exotic and rare roses that I’d never gotten to see. Unfamiliar types with strange names and even more vibrant colours.

For what seemed like hours, the loneliness faded.

The sound of footsteps outside interrupted my peace. I glanced up to see Ms Grey, one of my tutors, enter the room. She wore a grey trench coat, holding a briefcase. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her glasses perched precariously on her nose.

“Ah, Violet,” she said, crossing her arms. “It’s time for your lesson.”

I closed the book, placing it on a nearby table gently. “Sorry, I lost track of time.”

Her eyes flicked from me to the book before giving me a small, knowing smile. “Botany again?”

I simply nodded. “Of course, I love learning about flowers. Maybe one day I’ll even be able to see the rare ones.”

Something flickered in her eyes. Pity? Hesitation? I couldn’t tell, because it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“Well,” she said, turning to the hallway, “today’s lesson will be on more classical literature. We’ll be analysing Pride and Prejudice, I think you’d like it.”

I followed her to my study, where a steaming pot of tea and two porcelain cups were already waiting. The rain outside continued to beat against the windows, and the wind still howled, though more quietly than a few hours ago. Ms Grey poured the tea as I sat down at my desk.

“Tell me, Violet,” she said, “have you ever wondered what the outside world is like?”

The question caught me off guard. I stayed in that position for a heartbeat, stunned. I hesitated, awkwardly sliding the teacup toward me and stirring it. “Sometimes,” I admitted, “But father says it isn’t safe.”

She studied me, unblinking, before nodding. “He’s right to be cautious. Things outside can be… unpredictable, though it rarely turns into chaos.”

I took a sip of the tea, wincing at the heat. “Would I ever see it? The outside world?”

Ms Grey pondered it for a moment, then gave me a warm smile. “Perhaps, when the time is right.”

I wanted to ask more questions. When would the time be right? What was so dangerous out there? Was my father safe outside? But I knew that pushing too hard would make people disappear, never leading to good endings, so I kept quiet and began taking notes on Pride and Prejudice.

Just like that, the rest of the afternoon passed with me in the study. When Ms Grey left, the storm outside relaxed into a small drizzle, and the sun peeked through the scattered clouds. It lingered on the horizon, sending warm orange streaks across the sky.

I left the books on my desk, strolling back to my room.

As I reached my room, I paused, hand on the doorknob. Glancing down the long hallway, my eyes landed on the door to my father’s office. The door was always locked when he was away, but sometimes, on rare occasions, the loneliness would grow too much, and I’d press my hand against that door, as if I could feel his presence echoing in the room.

Tonight, I didn’t.

Instead, I stepped back into my room, quietly closing the door behind me. The rain had stopped completely now, leaving behind a cold, damp world. I curled up on the cushioned windowsill, leaning my head against the glass, watching as the sun disappeared under the horizon and the orange sky gradually turned darker.

And darker.

And darker.

Until it was the darkest shades of blue mixed with black.

I played with the silver ring around my finger, the purple glass glinting in the moonlight, and smiled.

Just for now, this would be enough.

This life would be enough.

-----

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[[image http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/a-gilded-cage/alistair.png style="width:64px;"]]
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[[/=]]

[[=]]
++ Alistair Weston

++++ O5-5
[[/=]]

We were stuck in traffic.

It had been a little more than a week since I last saw Violet, and we were on our way back home. I held a small bracelet in my hand, silver with amethyst lining the edges, a perfect match for her ring. It was the perfect gift, one that I knew Violet would like.

I glanced at my watch impatiently. “How long till we get home?” I asked the driver.

“Around two hours, sir. The traffic is going to slow us down quite a bit, and we also need to make a detour for Ms Weston.”

I sighed. Yet another unfortunate deviation from returning to Violet. Not that I didn't understand Anara's pleas to see her... It just isn't going to be a possibility.

“What’s causing the traffic? A roadblock?” I asked.

“Seems like a car crash piled up on the freeway. Two passenger cars and a freight truck collided.”

“Is there a way we can divert to a quicker road? You know how limited my time with Violet is.”

Zenith spoke up. “There are, but I don’t necessarily recommend it; we haven’t had anyone scout out the other routes yet.”

"We have backup anyway, it's worth the risk,” I said, keeping the irritation out of my voice.

“I’ll have a helicopter sweep the side road then. Get off the freeway at the next intersection, Axel.”

The driver nodded, and Zenith began tapping on his tablet, trying to contact the helicopters. After a few more minutes, the SUV exited the freeway, turning into a narrow, tree-lined road. The road was partially covered by the shadows of the tree canopies, along with fallen leaves. Above us, the faint thumping of the helicopter could be heard, scanning the road for any threats.

The detour led us to winding roads, with the dense forest on both sides. Two blacked-out cars followed us from a distance, containing a squadron of Alpha-1 operatives. In the sky, the helicopter’s rotors slowly faded as it flew away, its scan complete.

Before long, the trees disappeared, replaced by small buildings. We arrived at the town where we would pick up Anara. Axel slowed the SUV as we passed by a diner, careful not to arouse suspicion for going over the speed limit. The backup cars were way behind now, but still following. It was quiet and peaceful here; now I see why Anara liked this place so much.

As we drove, it seemed more and more eerie than peaceful. Barely any pedestrians, barely any cars. Just the whisper of wind through empty trees. The corner of my eye caught a flicker in an alley. The SUV ground to a halt.

I stiffened. “What are you doing? Drive.”

I barely had time to react as Axel turned around, aiming a submachine gun at me.

Bang.

A bullet flew straight through his head, leaving a bloody mess on the dashboard. Zenith swiftly unbuckled my seatbelt, pushing me down to the floor.

Then, the bullets rained down on us.

The armoured SUV absorbed most of the gunfire, bullets reflecting harmlessly off the reinforced glass and plating. Zenith’s grip on his sidearm tightened as he spoke into his earpiece. Then, he climbed forward into the driver's seat, pushing Axel to the seat beside him.

Where was our backup?

“We should be fine, sir.” He said, grabbing the fallen submachine gun. “Whoever’s out there can’t shoot through. We just have to drive out of here.”

I knew he was right.

Then, I saw them.

Three masked men, wearing black tactical gear, approached the SUV. Their movements were precise, like they had drilled and practised this exact scenario hundreds of times. Two held assault rifles, carrying a small, rectangular charge: C4. The other held a different type of rifle, taking aim at us.

“ZENITH!”

I braced, but nothing happened.

Nothing.

Slowly, I rose, only enough to see through the window.

“They just shot an EMP at us; all of our systems are down.” Zenith seemed panicked. “The majority of their forces are probably dealing with our backup; we’re stuck here.”

The man outside nodded to the two others, who approached the SUV quickly. One stood in front of my door, and the other took his place in front of the SUV.

God, they weren’t shooting to kill. They were shooting to stall.

The SUV lurched as the first charge hit the window beside me. The second landed on the windshield with a thud.

The C4 charges began blinking red.

Zenith didn’t hesitate, leaping back to me and opening the door with so much force it sent the man outside stumbling back. Zenith grabbed me and leapt from the SUV, sending us rolling onto the pavement as the world turned white.

Through the haze, I saw the third man lifting his rifle to aim, except now the EMP rifle was replaced with an assault rifle identical to the other two.

Zenith was faster.

A single shot, and the man dropped to the ground.

“Get up!” Zenith yelled, reloading his firearm.

My ears rang, but I could still hear another barrage of gunfire erupting.

Warm, red liquid splattered my face. Blood.

To my horror, Zenith slumped to the ground. I looked up. The man in front of the SUV, we had forgotten about him. He took aim again, this time at me. I braced for the bullets to come raining down on me. Instead, gunfire came from behind me.

The man died in an instant, falling to the ground, lifeless. I turned around, breathing a sigh of relief.

Backup had arrived.

Five Alpha-1 operatives fanned out around me, scanning the area for any remaining ambushers. One of them hauled me to my feet, then checked me for any wounds.

His grip on my arm was firm as he pulled me behind cover. I unconsciously wiped Zenith’s blood from my face, hands trembling. Was it fear? Or was it shock? I couldn’t tell.

“Perimeter secure, sir. More backup is arriving.” He said, eyes surveying the surrounding rooftops.

I took deep breaths, attempting to steady myself, though I still shook.

Suddenly, the world exploded in pain.

A bullet tore through me, stealing my breath before I could even scream. For one terrifying moment, my mind envisioned Violet waiting at home, her sketchbook open on the patio table, completely oblivious that her world was about to shatter.

The shot came from an apartment balcony, punching straight through my chest just as the sniper’s head disappeared from view, replaced by a fine red mist. I stumbled, hand placed on the nearby wall for support.

Time seemed to slow. I thought of all the promises I'd made to Violet that would now go unkept. The birthday parties I missed. The questions I never answered. The heartbreak and pain I wouldn't be there to comfort her through.

I fell backward, no longer able to stand.

The sky above was painfully blue, and the sun peeked through the clouds. A perfect day for gardening, Violet would have said.

“CONTACT! SOUTHWEST BALCONY!” Someone yelled.

Alpha-1 operatives around me moved with efficiency, forming a tight human shield around me. The team medic was already on his knees, rummaging through the medkit. Our eyes met as he tore open a clotting pack, and in that moment, we both knew. Still, he continued working.

That’s when I heard a scream.

Her scream.

"ALISTAIR!"

Anara ran towards me, followed by two guards. Someone around me tensed in alert.

“She’s good, let her through.” I choked out, looking down at my shirt, which the medic was cutting through.

Crimson bloomed around the bullet wound. She collapsed beside me, eyes wide with worry.

“God... I heard the explosion and…” Her voice trailed off as she noticed the blood pooling beneath me.

“Immediate extract needed, NOW! O5-5 is hit!” An operative barked into the radio.

"It's okay. I'm okay." I lied. Just like that day in the hospital when Violet was born, when she'd gripped my hand through the pain and promised everything would be okay. We'd both lied so many times since then, but not in this moment.

Anara took her scarf and pressed it against the open wound as the medic prepared the hemostatic gauze. “Don’t die, you idiot. Violet needs you.”

Her voice broke on Violet's name. The scarf shifted from pure white to deep red in seconds, the silk absorbing my life. My attempted chuckle turned into a cough, and I became aware of something in my hand that I was gripping too tightly.

I shifted my gaze to the object in my palm. I was holding the bracelet. Blood filled my mouth instead of words. I lifted my hand, catching Anara’s attention.

For a moment, a fraction of a second, I saw our daughter in her face. The same expression Violet made when she tried not to cry.

Her eyes welled with tears. “For Violet?”

At my weak nod, she shook her head. “Give it to her yourself.”

Her hands wrapped around mine, clenching with hope. The bracelet bit into my palm, but it didn't hurt. The amethysts gleamed like Violet's eyes when she laughed, and the memory brought a weak smile to my face.

My vision blurred, the world getting fuzzy at the edges. Voices slowly began to sound distant, but I could make out the medic swearing as he ripped open another clotting pack and Anara’s continued cries.

“Stay with me. Stay with us, Alistair.” She pleaded.

Her face was the last clear thing I saw. Those unique, purple eyes, just like Violet’s, filled with tears that landed on my cheeks.

Violet...

My Violet...

She would never know how hard I tried to come home.

The bracelet slipped from my fingers as the darkness took me.

-----

[[=]]
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[[image http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/a-gilded-cage/violet.png style="width:64px;"]]
[[size xx-small]]@@ @@[[/size]]
[[/=]]

[[=]]
++ Violet Weston

++++ --Daughter--
[[/=]]

I woke up to the sound of rain pattering on the window. Normally, the rain would have been calming, but today, something felt different. I paused, breathing in the familiar lavender scent, before reluctantly sliding off the bed.

The hallway outside was silent as always, but it felt oppressive. It seemed as if the air had become heavier. Before, the guards would have been stationed around the house, but now, their spots were bare, making the hallway seem larger. Carefully, I made my way downstairs, my footsteps echoing louder than usual.

As I made my way into the kitchen, I froze. Usually, breakfast would have already been on the table. Now, the air was cold. No smell of pancakes or morning coffee, just... emptiness. Something deep down screams at me, but I continue walking. The flowerpots lining the window remained unchanged, still the same flowers from yesterday. Like the guards, the cooks had seemed to disappear, no longer present in the kitchen.

Dread crawled over me. I had no way to contact anyone, no way to find my father.

The rain didn’t look like it was going to cease. I was used to seeing a few gardeners outside, but of course, they were absent too, making the garden seem more bare. The loneliness felt more amplified without anyone here. At least when my father was gone, the tutors would still talk to me, but now even they were gone. I sat in the living room, staring out the window. Whether seconds, minutes, or hours passed by, I didn’t know.

The sound of the front door unlocking galvanised me. I felt a rush of energy, finally relieved to see another face. Relief washed all the way through me as I stood up, and the fear of being alone was gone. Then, I came to a halt. Something still felt wrong.

“Perimeter secured, we’re going in.” A muffled voice outside said.

The door swung open, and a dozen figures strode in, but they weren’t the usual suited guards. These men seemed to move more like soldiers, wearing bulletproof vests, but what struck me was the purple shirts under the vest. They didn’t seem like military. They clutched assault rifles I recognised, the same models the mansion's perimeter guards carried... but these weren’t my father’s polished agents.

One of them froze as they spotted me, immediately raising their rifle.

I took a step back. They didn’t seem friendly.

“Unknown suspect, ground floor.” One of them barked into a radio.

Within seconds, I was surrounded by them. I didn’t move, I couldn’t, not with all of them aiming at me.

Hands seized me and pushed me to a kneeling position. These weren’t the careful grips of my father’s guards; these fingers dug into my arms like steel clamps. I didn’t fight. Didn’t scream. I couldn’t.

I heard the click of the handcuffs just as one of the men leaned down to ask, “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“Wh– What do you mean? I live here.”

“Don’t lie to me. How did you get in here?”

“I’m not lying! I live here!”

The man simply sighed. “I guess we’ll have to resort to different methods then, you brought this on yourself.”

He stood up, then spoke into his radio. “Suspect detained and secured. Requesting a containment vehicle at my location to bring the suspect to Site-83.”

I watched through the window as an unmarked semi-truck arrived within minutes. Didn’t move as they hoisted me into the large shipping container and closed the doors. Didn’t have anything on my mind except the same question repeating over and over:

Where was my father?

Suddenly, I heard a hissing sound.

Danger! My mind screamed.

I held my breath just as a fine white gas began pumping into the container.

Yet, I couldn’t hold my breath for long. I breathed in eventually, allowing the gas to fill my lungs.

It didn’t feel safe. Nor did it feel harmful. But my eyelids slowly felt heavier and heavier, until the world turned black.

It was the clang of metal that jolted me to consciousness. I opened my eyes to unfamiliar grey walls. My head throbbed, and my mouth felt dry. I was on a narrow slab of metal, a thin mattress the only concession to comfort. The walls were bare, seamless grey concrete, and the only light came from a bright, clinical light. There was no window. No clock.

The silence was the most oppressive part. It was heavy, unlike the quietness of my home. The only other sound was the distant voices outside the door, too far for me to make out any words.

Dad. Where was he? Where was I?

I sat up, the motion making me dizzy, then stood on unsteady legs and went to the door. It was solid metal, with no handle on my side. I mustered up the strength to pound on it with my fist, but the sound was dull, swallowed by the thick metal.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” My voice was hoarse. “My father is Alistair Weston! That was my home! You have to take me back!”

There was no response. Just the endless silence.

I slid down the door to sit on the cold floor, pressing my ear against the cool metal. For a long time, there was nothing. Then, faintly, I heard the murmur of voices coming closer. I held my breath, straining to listen.

“...Why did we go all the way to the estate? Wouldn't it be faster if we brought Weston's laptop to him?"

A second voice, deeper, replied. “Well, he also wanted to pay his respects.”

Pay his respects? A cold knot tightened in my stomach.

“Unfortunate,” the first voice said. “How did he die anyway?”

The world tilted. Die? No. They had to be talking about someone else.

"An ambush was set up on his detour route. Took him out even when backup arrived."

Why would anyone ambush him? The pieces clicked into a horrifying picture. The men in the purple shirts. The questions. The truck. They weren't here for some mistake. They were here because... because...

"Guess Alpha-1's standards are dropping; they used to be actually elite."

Alpha-1. I knew that name. My father’s most trusted guards.

"Well, you can't plan for every contingency," the second voice said, "even if you are the best of the best."

Their footsteps began to fade, the conversation moving away down the hall. But I stayed frozen, my ear still pressed to the door, the cold metal leaching all the warmth from my body.

My father wouldn’t be coming back.

The words I had refused to believe now echoed with a terrible, brutal truth. He wasn't on a trip. He wasn't coming back. He was gone.

A sound escaped my lips, a choked, broken thing made up by half-sob, half-gasp. I wrapped my arms around myself, but the cold was inside me now, glacial where my heart used to be. The grey walls seemed to press closer. He was gone. And I was alone, trapped in a silent, grey box, with nothing but the crushing weight of that knowledge for company.

@@ @@

[[footnoteblock]]

[[include :scp-wiki:component:license-box]]
> **Filename:** violet.png
> **Name:** crown-of-thorns.html
> **Author:** [https://lorcblog.blogspot.com/ Lorc]
> **License:** CC BY 3.0
> **Source Link:** [https://game-icons.net/1x1/lorc/crown-of-thorns.html Game Icons]

> **Filename:** alistair.png
> **Name:** sonic-boom.html
> **Author:** [https://lorcblog.blogspot.com/ Lorc]
> **License:** CC BY 3.0
> **Source Link:** [https://game-icons.net/1x1/lorc/sonic-boom.html Game Icons]
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