Orphaned Mystery: Case Unsolved

Chapter 7

12th January 2021, Tuesday

2:30 am

YODA Youth Juvenile Centre (Room #27)
Mason lay awake on his bed, still confused about what happened a few hours ago. He recalled what happened before they set foot on YODA, trying to figure out who the murderer was.
'Are you excited?' Jackie had asked in broken Italian for his benefit, hugging Mason's legs. The kid would not stand still ever since he woke up.
'Yeah I am' Mason smiled. He wanted the police to leave them alone as fast as possible too.
'We are gonna be innocent' Ashley sang in an offbeat tune – half in English, and half in Italian. She jumped onto Mason's back and he caught her. She grabbed onto his neck and kept singing. Mason laughed.
'Alright, everyone. In the car. We're leaving' Marie-Lou called.
Wendy and Logan decided to ride bikes, not knowing how long it would take for them to reach the building.
They had arrived after at least fifteen minutes. Ashley joked about how Logan and Wendy were going to be dead tired – she was right.
Mason had secretly been in awe of everything and everyone inside YODA. It was such a well-built organization. They always got their target, and it was always accurate.
Until they concluded that he was the murderer.
When Martin mentioned his past life and how Freddie got a hold of his book, Mason didn't know what to feel. His heart stopped working and his insides started screaming. His vision went dim but he could feel everyone's eyes on him.
Mason wanted to tell them it wasn't him. That it was someone else, and that Martin had caught the wrong person.
But who would believe him?
YODA was practically famous for their accurate answers and the failures they never ever had. Besides, a teenage boy with a whole life of crimes and capturing? That wasn't normal. He was totally the murderer. It couldn't have been clearer.
He knew that was what they all were thinking when he saw Wendy's angry face. He knew that there was no way that they would listen to him. If he was in their place, he would have probably believed Martin too.
He wish his life never happened – sure it was an immature thought, but it was true. He remembered his time with his mom. Every day at least six items broke.
Sometimes, when she was feeling fine, only three. The worst part? She blamed Mason for getting her fired from her job because they thought she was "too violent to work".
But hey, why would they think that now?
Things got heated up so much that Mason's mother thought he simply would not do, and sent him to his grandmother's house.
'Let her take you, if she wants' mom had snarled. The comment hurt Mason more than any of the beatings he had ever gotten. It made him scared.
'And if she doesn't want to keep me?' Mason peeped, the edges of his eyes brimming with tears.
His mother scoffed. 'Well, that would be bad. Either way, you aren't coming back'
She slammed the door in his face. Mason, at five years old, had to walk all the way to his grandmother's house.
But, as it turned out, moments spent with Nonna were the best times of his life. Freshly baked cookies, warm clothes, walks out in the parks every evening, and bedtimes stories that included ferocious dragons and brave warriors – it couldn't get any better. Mason knew that nothing could ever go wrong again. That was, until she died. Suddenly all the color in Mason's life drained away.
Either way, you aren't coming back.
He knew she told him not to return. He also knew that he needed someone to take care of him – he was, after all, only nine years old. He ran away from the crowd that swarmed around his home, and didn't stop until he reached his old... house. Yes, house. Not home.
He rang the doorbell and stood there, cowering at the thought of what mom would say when she found who was at the door. There was no answer. Mason rang the bell and knocked the door repeatedly. No one answered him except for silence.
Mason started crying. It wasn't fair. Why didn't she answer? Did she really hate him that much? He pounded his fists against the door, kicked at the edges, and screamed for his mom to open. A man walked over to him and asked him why he was making such a fuss. When Mason pointed to the door, he shook his head.
'Kid, there is no one there' he said softly with a tiny smile.
'No there is. My mom lives here' Mason had insisted.
The man bent over and put his hand on Mason's shoulder. 'Kid. Whoever lived here, she is gone. There was a murderer – a killer, in simple words – and this house was one of the places targeted'
Mason took a while to digest this. Nonna was gone. And now so was his mom. He was all alone with no home and no money. Who was there to help?
The subject about his dad was closed and locked. His mom would berate him if he asked about him. Nonna would shake her head.
'I can't tell you much about him, Mason. But I can tell you how he looked. He was a tall man, with kind brown eyes just like yours – and your hair too. He was a tough person. Alas, he was also stubborn'
'What happened to him, Nonna?'
'I can't say. The subject is closed and forbidden' she would always reply with a sad smile.
Was he even alive? Where was he? Could Mason even find him?
The man must have sensed his agitation and worry. He tried to pull in Mason for a hug, but he wasn't in the mood. He wanted to be alone. He pulled free and ran away from the man to an alleyway. He kicked a trashcan and sat down, breathing heavily. His tears hadn't gone. He stayed silent for a while, wondering what to do.
Thundering footsteps made him look up. Two men dressed in black biker outfits were coming towards him, giants compared to tiny Mason, a sack and rope in one man's hand. Mason shot to his feet, somehow knowing that they were here for him. He tried looking for a place to escape, but the men blocked the only exit. The next thing he knew, the sack was placed over his head and ropes bound him in place. Mason squirmed and screamed himself hoarse. Nothing happened. He felt something block his nose and mouth before falling into a deep sleep.
When Mason woke up, he was in an entirely new world. Tall shiny buildings and elegant clothing blinded Mason from the window of the car he was tied to. It was just like the places Nonna used to describe in her tales – simply magical.
The car stopped, and the men dragged Mason to an elevator, but he didn't protest. He was busy soaking up the breathtaking view. Everything in so much detail. It was like the pictures hung in Nonna's hallway. Was this even real? Mason wondered. It couldn't be. No place in the world – none that Mason had ever seen – was this bright.
Ding! The elevators opened. The men dragged a very dazed Mason inside a room that looked no different from the other hundred ones stretched in the red hallway. Waiting for them was another man. He wore a long white jacket with a pen stuck in one of the pockets. The black pants, the flat shoes, the electrified hair, and the crazy expression he wore (with his left eye twitching at all times) reminded Mason of the villain in the spooky story Nonna used to tell him – a mad scientist. The trio started speaking in a language completely alien for the nine year old. He could only make out the pronunciations, but not the meanings.
'And what do we have here?' the mad scientist asked, interrupting the men's introduction.
'Thought you could use him for your work, sir. Found him on the roads, crying his eyes out'
'Any parents or guardians?'
'We overheard him tell this other guy that he doesn't have any'
Mad scientist smiled, like this was perfect news. What was going on? Mason felt a mixture of confusion and fear blend inside him.
The man looked at him with sympathy Mason thought was real for five minutes of his life.
'Well, isn't that sad. Are you OK? Did these men treat you alright?' he wanted to know.
'Huh?' Mason didn't know what this guy was telling him. What was he speaking in? It didn't make any sense. What was alright?
The man frowned. 'You do not understand me do you?'
'Huh?' Mason now had tears in his eyes. He desperately wanted to know what was going on.
The man bent to Mason's level. 'You' – he pointed to Mason and made a triangle above his head – 'home?'
Mason's mind ran. Home? Nonna had said something similar in a funny song she used to tell him. House. Where you live.
'Italy' he responded. 'House'
'Name?' the mad scientist asked.
'Huh?'
The scientist sighed. 'Me' – he pointed to himself – 'Chiyo'
Then he pointed to the small nine year old that stood before him. 'You?'
'Mason Di Maio' he replied, making a mental note. Name is what you are called.
The man straightened, clearly satisfied. 'Keep him with the others' he ordered the other two. They nodded. And then the man left outside. Mason's kidnappers held both his arms and threw him inside another room.
Inside it was filled with computers, glowing tubes, paper stacks, and barred closet sized rooms filled with skeleton-thin kids huddled in the corners. They took him to one of the rooms and flung him inside, locking him from the outside. Mason ran and hurled himself at the door, trying to push it open. No use. At that moment, Mason knew he would not be having a good time in this building.
He couldn't have been more right. For at least 10 months, Mason experienced pain in different forms every day. Dr. Chiyo – as Mason was forced to call him – was working on a new experiment, a serum that could control others and force them to do his biddings against their will. Mason received countless shots, blackouts, and headaches. It hurt him too much, but he didn't know how to refuse.
One day, he decided that he had enough. Maybe something Dr. said triggered him, maybe it was just his will to be free, but Mason confirmed to leave the building no matter what the cost was.
He knew that Dr. Chiyo only slept in the afternoon, so that he could do his illegal lab work at night without anyone noticing. That day, Mason waited for the Dr. to go outside and sleep, listening attentively. He heard a mutter, followed by a soft click. The door shut after a count of three. Go time.
Mason reached for the sharp blade on a desk next to his cell. The scientist had moved it a week ago, completing Mason's key to freedom. He took it, broke open the cell, and got out as quietly as possible. Breathing heavily, he broke the bars of the window and looked out. He was roughly a 100 feet away from the ground. Mason did the stupid thing: he climbed onto the window, and jumped onto a water pipe connected to the ground, and hung on for dear life as he slid down safely on to the grass.
Mason ran as far from the lab as he could possibly go. After an eternity of torturing his legs, Mason stopped at a sign board. He knew how to read English from his times at the lab now – Welcome to New York City. That must be where he was. Mason walked across the streets, observing what everyone was doing, and trying to blend in with the crowds. It was a thousand times busier than the lab. People on the streets rushed around – on phone calls, rummaging bags, laughing with groups of their own, and calling for taxis that sped by. It was overwhelming.
Mason had reached another alleyway. Looking both ways to make sure no one was following him like last time, he went in and sat down in a corner. His stomach growled. He looked up, searching for a sign that included food. He got up, his legs groaning under his weight, and started his expedition for food. He made it to a long road filled with food stands. Jackpot! Mason ran, adrenaline rushing through his body. He went to one stall, simply took one, and took off. Stall, take, run, repeat - He did this for five stalls before retreating back to his alley. He finally had food.
One month past, then another, and then four more. Mason lived in the streets, his pickpocketing skills improving by the second. It was all so simple. With just a slight of hand, Mason got a $100.
Fast forward a few days and suddenly the police caught him. Mason remembered being taken to a police station and asked to wait for questioning.
Of course, he didn't really understand what they meant. When the police came back, a window was wide open and the boy they had arrested had disappeared.  Mason kept on running, this time determined never to be captured. He couldn't escape a third time.
He recalled the moment he saw Mrs. and Mr Beschorner for the first time. He had escaped from the police, and on the run, he bumped into Wendy – who had been going out on a walk with them. Startled, Mason stepped back. Wendy looked at him, an amused expression scribbled on her face.
'Um, hi. I'm Wendy. What's your name?' the strange girl smiled at him.
There was that word again – name. Mason knew how to answer this time.
'Uh, Mason Di Maio?'
'Are you lost? What are you doing all alone? Are you allowed? I want to go out by myself too, but I can't. How long can you stay up?' that was a new one. He had never gotten so many questions thrown at him all at once.
'Huh?' Mason was getting really tired of repeating the same response.
The girl kept quiet. By looks, she could have been Mason's age – maybe a bit younger. She had beautiful long hair that had been dyed to match fire and emerald green eyes. She was pale and sported a blue and white t-shirt, a pair of black jeans, and bright red sneakers. Next to Mason – who wore only black – Wendy looked like a fashion model.
Mason had been staring at Wendy for so long, he didn't notice two other people enter the scene.
'Hello, Wendy. Who is this?' Mrs. Beschorner asked, making Mason jump out of his skin. He stepped a few paces back.
'This is Mason Di Maio, as he says. He hasn't answered any of my other questions yet. I don't know why' Wendy explained.
'Is that true?' Mr Beschorner wanted to know. He was frowning.
'Huh?' Mason wanted to cry. What on earth were they saying? By now, his heart was racing so fast it might have exploded.
'Do you know what we are saying, darling?' Mrs. Beschorner's voice was so gentle that Mason wanted to answer. He tilted his head and put on a confused expression, trying to convey his feelings and thoughts in actions – like playing charades with Nonna.
'I don't think he does. Mason, where are you from? Where is your home?' Wendy used hand gestures similar to Dr. Chiyo – roof over the head – home. 
'Italy' he replied, hoping he answered correctly.
'Where are your parents?'
'Huh?'
'Um... Mom and Dad?'
That was when Mason couldn't hold it anymore. The word mom triggered his eyes. Tears flowed from them faster than Mason could hold them back. He shook his head and put his index finger across his throat, rambling non-stop in rapid Italian.
His audience gasped, understanding what Mason was trying to convey. Wendy came forward slowly, and gave him a hug. This time, he accepted it.
They took him to the MHH, and from that moment, life decided to give Mason a good time. Apart from Wendy and Freddie, he got four more siblings. He taught them Italian, and they taught him Basic English.
He wrote his life story in the book he always carried to remind himself to stay alert at all times. He learnt taekwondo to protect himself from being taken. He wasn't going to lose his home. Not another one. Never again.
And the one millisecond he let loose, he gets stuck in jail.
He remembered his conversation with Sherlock in room 20. Amazingly, he knew multiple languages, Italian included.
'Mason, I want you to answer carefully and honestly, OK?' his voice was gentle, but Mason didn't like his tone. He nodded.
'Why did you kill your brother?'
There was that question again. I didn't do it, he wanted to scream – but something held him back. A thought floated into his mind. If Mason was proven innocent, one of his siblings would have been taken away – Wendy, Logan, Ashley, maybe even tiny Jackie – he couldn't bear to see that happen to anyone of them. He would not sit back when they were threatened – even if one of them was the murderer.
'I couldn't stand the thought of someone knowing what I had been hiding for seven years' he replied, playing the villain.
'Do you think it was a good reason to murder someone?'
'It seemed right at the time' a bead of sweat made its way down Mason's neck. He isn't buying this. There is no way he is buying this. He kept panicking inside.
Sherlock sighed. 'And what is this secret, may I know? Or do you have to murder me too?'
Mason turned bright red. No turning back now. He told everything. Sherlock's eyes widened and his eyebrows flew higher as the tale grew.
'Wow' he said when Mason finished. 'Quite an adventure for someone as young as you, right?'
'I wouldn't call it an adventure'
A beat of silence followed the comment. Mason looked up from the floor. Sherlock's eyes locked on his. 'You know what awaits you, don't you, Mason?'
His head retreated back to the floor again. He nodded slowly.
'Very well. Come with me'
Mason followed Sherlock to YODA's Juvenile Youth Centre. He got a room, and was told to go to sleep immediately. Yet here he was, 4:23 in the morning, recalling, rewinding, and remembering. The rain poured heavily outside. He remembered when Jackie would come into his room to sleep whenever there was a storm.
'Mason, I'm scared' he told the first time.
'Of what?' Mason asked.
'The storm outside' Jackie pointed to the window, his eyes filling with tears.
'So why sleep with me?' Mason was confused. He rarely talked to anyone.
'Because you know taekwondo. You can fight the storm if it comes' Jackie replied seriously, as if it were obvious. It took all of Mason's efforts not to laugh.
'Uh, sure. I guess you can-'
Jackie flopped onto his bed and snuggled right beside him, a teddy bear in hand. He fell asleep in, like, five minutes.
Wondering where they were now, Mason finally fell asleep, with no idea on what would happen the next day.