Chapter Text
Life had kept on advancing.
Time was flying.
And he had kept on fading away.
His face.
His voice.
His gentle and soothing words whenever Toby was losing a baseball match against his friends.
The warmth of his touch whenever he was hugging him tenderly. Anytime Mommy was mad at him because he had gotten bad grades.
Everything had been taken away.
Everything was slowly slipping away.
And gathering those precious memories felt like trying to catch smoke with bare hands.
Toby was losing him.
Maybe he had always known.
Maybe he should have realized either.
Daddy was gone.
He’d never come back.
She had taken him away.
They were taking his remembrance away.
The psychologist had once told him that the memories he had with his Daddy were the dearest things he needed to hold onto.
But they were being taken away too.
They were taking everything from him again.
Those so-called fans.
Those who had taken his Mommy away. Those who had taken their home away.
Toby had used to think he’d always have a place to return. This house his Daddy and Mommy had indebted themselves to buy.
Toby had thought he’d returned to it eventually. Even after changing schools several times because he was ‘the kid of the news’ or ‘that psycho's offspring’. Even after the countless failures of adoptions he had gone through. Even after his Mommy stopped accepting his visits whenever he was showing up to the prison visiting room.
Even after all this, he’d manage to return to this place he had used to be happy in. With his Daddy. Even with his Mommy.
Toby thought maybe he could forgive her if he managed to return to this place.
Even after all this, he still had a place to call home in this world.
But as soon as he turned eighteen and got to his hometown, the city he had been born and raised in, he immediately felt like a stranger. Everyone remembered.
And yet, Toby felt like he had never met those people.
As soon as he glanced at his home standing beyond the car’s window, his hopes got torn apart and something broke within his chest.
Tags.
Broken windows and doors.
Slurs towards his mother. Even his father.
All over on the wall. Between the sacked garden - those flattered, stomped flowers he had grown with Mommy and Daddy when he was younger. This broken swing his Daddy had built for him. Mommy had used to watch them play from the now shattered kitchen window.
They had taken away his mother, the constant death threats had changed her and Toby had heard she wasn’t doing well. He didn’t know if he should care at this point. If he shouldn’t care anymore.
Probably not.
They had taken away his home.
They had destroyed it.
Dirtied it.
With their senseless words and unjustified slurs.
Because what did they know ?
What did those people know about him ?
About his Mommy ?
About his Daddy ?
Toby hated them.
He hated them to guts.
Because now they were also taking his Daddy away from him.
They dared to assume things. They dared to hurt his Mommy. To destroy his house in his Daddy’s and his own sake.
Fucking liars.
And worst of all, they were taking his Daddy away.
Toby was grown now.
He had grown so much he was certain his Daddy would never recognize him. Or maybe he would ? Daddy was the best after all.
And yet, Toby had changed. So much.
He hated this new version of himself so much too. But what could he possibly do about this ?
It didn’t matter anymore. Everyone and everything he had ever known was no longer living.
Toby had grown.
As soon as he had understood how an internet browser worked, he had swiftly googled up his family name.
Numerous articles and posts had shown up about the case, his Mommy and himself.
It was the first time he had seen people freely making assumptions about himself. About his family. About things they didn’t know shit about.
The first and far from the last time.
Toby then googled up Daddy’s name.
And soon felt like a bucket of cold showers had just gotten poured on his head.
Fanarts, fanedits, fanfictions - unhinged fanfictions - and fananimatics.
A fanbase. For his Daddy.
If it had felt so comforting at first, Toby had grown unable to recognize the character those people were talking about. The character those people were depicting. We're drawing, writing about, editing.
His Daddy had been turned into a character. His Daddy had turned into a character people could glaze at, could fawn over and say everything they wanted about.
His Daddy, the person he loved the most in the world, had turned into a blurry image distorted by those crazy people’s visions.
Toby had soon started to hate everything. Everything he had found about his Daddy was irritating. It was making his blood boil.
The cute fanarts he had seen the first day were now disgusting. Those gore arts that had scared him were now ridiculously laughable.
Were those people deranged ?
‘And they were the ones calling Mommy crazy ?’
Toby hated them.
Any last one of them.
They were taking his Daddy away.
They were destroying his warm, gentle and so dear vision of his Daddy.
They knew nothing.
They knew nothing.
Nothing at all.
Toby hated them.
He hated them all so much.
Those people were so hypocritical.
Slandering his Mommy. Calling her names.
Calling her slurs.
They knew nothing.
They knew nothing at all.
And Toby hated them.
He hated them all so damn much.
They were worse than her.
All of them.
Claiming his Mommy was a monster.
When they all kept on poking.
On clicking.
On hurting him.
Toby hated them.
He hated them all so damn much.
He would never forgive them.
Never.
Those people all deserved to burn in hell.
He hated them.
He hated them.
He hated them.
He hated them.
He hated them.
He hated them.
He hated them.
He hated them.
He hated them.
He hated them….
Because they had taken him away.
Because they had taken everything away.
Because they didn't know anything.
And because he had let them do so so easily.
Toby was no longer a child.
He had grown up.
So much he wasn’t sure his Daddy wouldn’t recognize him anymore. Or maybe he would ? Daddy was the best after all.
But his Daddy wouldn’t like him anymore, even if he did. Because Toby was weak. Hateful. Angry at everyone.
A far cry from the son he had known. From the son Daddy had loved.
From the son Toby wished he still could be.
But he wasn’t.
He had grown.
They had made him grow.
They had turned him like that.
They had taken everything from him.
Toby hated them.
Hated them all.
And the worst part was that Toby had actually let them do so.
It was so pathetic.
So laughable.
Toby hated them.
Hated them all.
And he hated himself.
More than everything else in the world.
Because he had grown into this version of himself his Daddy would never love. Could never love. Should never love.
Nobody should ever love him. And would ever love him.
Because he had let fake and phony people that knew nothing stole everything that had once meant something to him.
And because he could no longer remember his Daddy.
How Daddy looked like.
How Daddy sounded like.
How Daddy was like.
Toby missed his Daddy so much.
And didn’t deserve to do so either.
He shouldn’t even be allowed to do so.
Shouldn’t be allowed to remember him. Even if those memories were fragmented remembrances. Blurry and shallow.
Toby wasn’t a good son.
And his Daddy probably hated him now.
And Toby meant the time when this thought meant something anymore.
It was too late.
Toby was a bad son, and his Daddy could never love someone like him.
But it was okay
.
He didn’t deserve Daddy’s love anyway.
Because Toby was weak, hateful, angry at everyone and forgetful.
And he hated this so damn much.
More than anything else in the world.
Toby hated himself.