No Happy End - Danganronpa Oneshots

Forced Mastermind Chapter 1 - Loneliness

I'm Shuichi Saihara. I'm just your average high schooler, average talent, average looks,  average height, pretty good grades. Or should I say... was.

I've always been a pretty quiet kid, never seeking attention, never causing trouble for anyone. I didn't have a lot of friends obviously, and the few I had would always eventually leave me for other people.

My parents weren't around; they abandonned me when I was little at my uncle's house. They left and never came back, never giving any sign of life. I still remember them; they were pretty young, maybe too young, and they were extremely carefree. They would always leave me alone in the apartment when I was a toddler to go party with their college friends and eventually come back home at ungodly hours in the night (or morning?). I was always a light sleeper, so I would always wake up and see them shuffle and stumble around in the apartment, giggling and flirting with each other, drunk out of their minds.

Sometimes, they would catch me awake and would yell at me. They would yell out their frustrations, their fears, their guilty thoughts and insults at me, visibly forgetting who they were even talking to.

Every morning after that was the same, they would wake up and not remember a single thing of their previous night. As I got older, I would often start to care for them when they came home; getting them in bed, making them food and giving them comfort. To keep my mind off of it all, I often played the piano, something my mom had taught me when I was younger.
I... loved my parents. Despite all of these sleepless nights I spent looking out for them, when they should be the ones looking out for me, they still cared for me.

They smiled and laughed with me during the day. They praised my good grades, they made my lunches and gave me all their attention.
It was like I had two completely different sets of parents.

And one day, without warning, they just dropped me off at my uncle's house and left. They said they would come back, but they never did. I could never find a trace of them. It was like they disappeared. I was completely torn apart after that time. For weeks and weeks, I wouldn't even talk to my uncle and aunt, I couldn't even bring myself to look at them. Questions kept swirling in my mind; why? What did I do? Was there something wrong with me? Did I do something to anger them?

I never got the answers to my questions.
Eventually, I started settling in my uncle's house. I started talking to them and getting to know them more. They were both very nice; my uncle owned a detective agency, with my aunt working as an accountant for that same agency.
They made sure I was comfortable enough and didn't rush me to speak or trust them; they respected my choices and opinions, which I was and still am very grateful for. Both even agreed to buy me a small piano, seeing how much I missed it.

Detective work was always something I admired. The mystery, the thrill and the various different problems were so exhilarating to me.
My uncle would sometimes even bring me to his workplace when I didn't have school. I met his coworkers, who were all very nice and friendly, and even got to take a look at his work. It sounded so complicated, there were so much details, so much effort but into uncovering every little secret that could be major to the case.

One day, as I came home from school, I walked to the kitchen table to do my homework, when I noticed a beige folder with a big "Confidential" red mark stamped on top. It took no genius to realize that this was one of his uncle's case, that he probably forgot to take to work.

After contemplating it for a few minutes, the outcomes of every situation playing in my head, I decided to open it.

It was a murder case, a gruesome one. A boy, about my age (I was 12 around that time) had all four of his limbs severed and his throat had been cut. The obviously very graphic picture made me gag, I felt very lightheaded and needed to sit down after seeing that.