Unquenchable, a death note fanfic

Title: Unquenchable

Rating: M

Categories: Horror/Angst

Warnings: Violence, gore, pain, spoilers Vol. 1-7.

Summary: Raito is in Hell, and doesn't know why. A horror story written for Halloween.

For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and loose his own soul?

A Place of Fire

At first there is a strange lifting feeling inside him, as though hands are pulling at every inch of his body but he feels no fingers, only the dragging. That force is taking something important, he knows, but what he doesn't know is what. It is like his leaving somewhere wonderful, somewhere he's been a long time and now he's leaving, but forgetting something he left behind there. But he cannot return to that place.

It takes him a long time to remember who he is. Raito, he remembers suddenly, Yagami Raito; and he wonders why it ever left him. It is his name after all, and he is too brilliant to forget his name. He won't tell anyone, and he's glad no one was there to witness it. It seems like he is floating and he tries to reach out to feel where he is, and he realizes he cannot see, and can't think why. He could see perfectly well yesterday.

Couldn't he? For some reason, it didn't come to him. All he knew was his name, and that he was a person with a life and…and…right? He struggles for many long minutes (or whatever units of time they were using, wherever he was) to figure it out, searching his mind for something, but nothing happens. It is strange and stiff, like his brain is tied up, and therefore his thoughts can only move so much, allowing him a certain amount of information.

The sense of helplessness makes Raito cringe, or at least he thinks he does, but he's not sure if he has a face anymore. If he ever had one at all. For some reason the thought that he should have a body, a real form, seems both normal and absurd unanimously. Why does everything suddenly feel so heavy? And is that a sound somewhere?

Sound, yes, Raito hears sound, and it relieved. For the silence was forcing him to doubt his own existence, which it scary to him for some reason. Because he's really not sure if he ever had an existence in the first place. But no –he has a name! A name, a title, something that says he was real. Something defined him, and so he had existence, yes, he had that at least. But what is that noise?

It gets louder and louder, growing in intensity as well as sound level. It is piercing, high-pitched and sharp, and it takes Raito a minute to realize that it is more than just a sound, but a scream. It is a horrified scream, and terrified wail of fear and agony and it grows louder and louder and louder, until it encompasses Raito's entire being. If he even has a being, because he is still unsure.

Somehow the acute screeching gets even higher, and Raito doesn't think it's possible but it is. It gets louder until his eardrums start throbbing, (if said eardrums are even real) bursting with pain at the aguish-filled shrieking. Raito wants to know who's making that petrifying sound, to tell them to stop, but he can't. He's not even sure if he exists, let alone somebody else.

And then he has a revelation. It is his scream, his terror, his pain, and in light of this epiphany he abruptly feels the pain that the waling suggests.

The throbbing in his ears is suddenly fierce burning, and there is fire everywhere, licking his skin, emitting from his eyes and nose and mouth –and he knows he exists. He knows because of the pain he feels in every orifice, filled with flame, burning him. It is unbelievable, the pure agony of his scorching body. It hurts like nothing he has ever felt before.

And so Raito screams.

Lake of Fire

Pain. Pain. Painpainpain. Oh god, make it stop. It hurts, burning everything and there is a smell he's never smelt before. It is something dying something burning like he is and melting, oh god he's melting, and it hurts. The suffering he is going through, as every inch of his skin is drowned in flames. It had been hours or days of this hot, blazing torture and he knows logically that he should be dead.

WHY DON'T I DIE!? He demands through the fire that attacks his tongue and teeth and throat. He screams it so many times, so many times, or was it only once? He cannot tell.

He wants to know why this is happening to him. Why? It hurts so much and –why? He does not deserve this, whatever this is. Raito was a good person, wasn't he? Again, he can't recall, but he knows. He knows he was a good person, so why is this happening to him? And why, after several hours of smoldering heat, of fire on his skin, has he not yet died? It should have only taken minutes.

Then it comes to him, another revelation; he is dead. He is dead, and that is what he'd left behind so long ago. How long has it been? He doesn't know, he can't know, because he is more concerned with himself burning alive. And even in the presence of all this fire it is so dark, darker than any night sky. Darker than black, and inky darkness that felt like it leaked into Raito's soul through every opening in himself, as the fire was shooting out.

Why is he in Hell? That is where he must be if his is dead. The fire, the pain, the darkness, he was warned of this. But god, why? He has done nothing to deserve this! He is a good person, and he had done no wrong! He screams this.

As he says this, the flames burn hotter.

And it is like he is swimming in fire, the conflagration has engulfed him so completely, and still he shrieks. It lets the fire inside his mouth, but it was already there to begin with; it is everywhere, and there is no escaping this horrible pain. Raito is scared, because he does not want this pain, but he doesn't want to die either. Better to live in this agony in some way than to cease to exist. Because to stop existing is to be nothing, and Raito refuses to be nothing.

And he drowns in the flames.

A Place of Torment

Raito is tired but he cannot sleep. He can't tell if his eyes are closed or open but it doesn't matter because sleep cannot find him here. In Hell, he remembers, there is not rest day nor night, and in knowing that he feels safer. But not really. Because there is so much more he does not know, and that he wants to now more terribly than he wants to get out of these wretched flames. Why is he here? Why him? What has he done?

These questions go unanswered and instead the pain increases. Raito understands, that whoever put him here, there must be a reason. And until he recognizes that reason he will stay. No, even after. Because a snide voice in his head spits at him, there is no way out, this is eternal punishment. But for what? For what is he being penalized? He has done nothing wrong!

And then again the suffering amplifies.

His body is convulsing, and for a moment he thinks he is going to die but it never comes, he just keeps spasming. Raito has comprehended the reason for the increase in pain; every time he denies doing anything wrong, it gets worse. But he cannot remember! But that does not matter to the devil, who he assumes is who is doing this to him. All that matters is that he fears more pain, please, god, no, and so he does not scream protests nor think them any longer. He must have done something. Or else he would not be here.

But this agony is more than any soul can take, and yet he has. He is burning still, and he wonders when there will be nothing left of him. If ever, and the voice in his head laughs again. Everlasting fire, says the voice in his mind, cackling, and Raito had decides that the voice is Satan. Or else he's been driven insane by the incredible pain, and either is an option now.

His teeth gnash together, or at least he thinks they do. Does he even have teeth? He must, or they could not be grinding against each other in such a way. The pain had caused this, and he wants out please, but that voice reminds him happily; Everlasting fire. He cannot give up hope though, because that is all he has left, and it terrifies him beyond anything.

And then Raito sees something, something far, far away and yet very close, so close he can feel the wind as it passes by. Hot wind, because everything is hot, and Raito can't take it anymore. That figure is a dragon, it seems. Its shadow glowering at him and it's scaly, evil face contorting into a horrible smirk. A giant, flying, red lizard; and Raito revels in the act of being able to see it. Shortly, because he plunges back into blindness.

No! Raito tries to yell, but his mouth is already occupied with screaming in pain, and it still hurts worse than anything. Like every piece of flesh is being burnt separately. The darkness kills him, even though he is already dead, because he feels infected by his inability, as though it is a disease. He wants to see. More importantly he wants to know why he can't, but he'll settle for seeing first. Something. Anything.

There is another sinister laugh and something appears in front of his eyes; a severed human head. A man's head, with blood dripping from the neck and out of large, black eyes like tears. The face is twisted into an angry but scared expression, but mostly sadness reflected in his appearance. The image is sickening, and Raito suddenly wishes that he isn't able to see anymore, just to get that picture out of his mind.

The image does disappear, but is replace with another, and other head decapitated from the body but somehow bloodless. A woman's head this time with perfect make up on and a eerie smile. A smile; and Raito realizes that she must had been smiling as she died and that is scarier than the bloody, horrified face. Raito hears his screams get louder, even though the stabbing, burning pain is even. This time it's fear that drives the sound.

Another head, an older man who is crying, but also bloodless. A much older man with white hair matted with blood. Each image more graphic than the next. A older woman with a face screaming in terror, mouth permanently agape. A young woman with blood all over her face, surprised and scared stiff. Raito feels sick but doesn't feel the relief of vomiting, and wants those images to go away.

For some reason he feels he should know those faces. But he can't seem to fabricate why out of his mind. More images, each another gruesome detached head from the neck up. Some have blood and others don't, and why Raito cannot figure. He would need more information, and even if he had that he isn't sure he can figure it out though the tremendous amount of pain he feels at being fried.

Please stop, Raito begs, when he thinks the horrible faces are cutting him deeper than the burning all over. He feels a sense of gross weakness at his pleas, and knows that such a thing does not become him, but he is far past it. Agony does that to a person, as does the tormenting of grotesque illustration out of nowhere.

That voice tells him snidely, you wanted sight. But god, not like this! Please, just take it away! But it does not happen, and instead they seem to restart from the beginning. The first man with wide black eyes reappears, but it is worse, so much worse; blood is dripping from his mouth this time as well and his tongue is lying beside him. The skin is rotting and one large eyeball is hanging from his socket by a thread.

His stomach turns, and he wretches, but still nothing. And then the woman comes, and still no blood, but her hair is ripped out and her nose is nonexistent, and a large chunk of her skull his missing, as though something large took a bite out of her. Her brain his leaking out, sliding down her pretty face with perfect makeup on. Still no blood mars her, except if one counts the lipstick on her ruby red lips. And still she smiles.

And still Raito screams.

The distress this ordeal gives him –he has know idea why this is happening! But he dares not think it, or else the anguish increases, the heat of the flames scorching him get worse until his throat is so hoarse he cannot bawl anymore. Although he is really unsure if his throat exists. He knows in a sense that his soul does exist but he knows not how. Is it all in one place, as a body might be, or space out, one end of him here and another a mile away? He can never tell, because he sees nothing but those monstrous heads.

He wants out of his Hell. After a while he cannot think of anything else except getting out of his remarkable torture. He can't care why now, he is to distracted by the amazing pain everywhere, anywhere, and so he just wants out. Please, please let me out! Raito thinks, to who he's not sure. To God? If so, he cannot care much to put him in a place like this. To Satan? If so, isn't he the one who is laughing at Raito so mercilessly?

All he knows is that he wants out, needs out, and he'll cry to anyone who can do it.

Eternal Flame

Hell is forever, scorns a voice mockingly and Raito shrieks at the statement. No, it can't be! He needs to get out of here, but all he can hear is forever over and over in his mind, as frequent as the repugnant images of severed heads. Please, please, what did I do to deserve this? Please, I'll do anything –and please, no more pain.

There is a dark, ominous chortle from somewhere –or is it everywhere? Raito cannot tell, and he wonders why it is more frightening that the devil laughs all the time than spitting cruel words or scowling. He thinks perhaps it's the same reason that seeing that woman's severed head smiling is so offensive to him. But that reason is unknown to him, and he cannot think enough to figure it out.

What did you do? repeats the voice, and Raito isn't even sure it's actually a voice, but a presence. And flowing, deep presence that tickles his mind. What many have done.

A last word.

Murderer.

Murder -? And so suddenly, Raito remembers. He remembers those faces, where he knows those faces. L, Misa, his dad, his mom, his sister and so many more –all the faces of the decapitated heads. He knows them, and now he knows that he knows them, and he remembers their lives, and his. Murderer, echoes in his mind, and he remembers Kira, and that L suspected him but –

NO! Raito screams in fury and outrage. He knows denying it causes more pain, but god, he's not supposed to be here. He isn't Kira! He isn't! L was so sure of it, but he knows he isn't! He knows! And he must tell Satan before he goes insane from the extreme agony that he is constantly in. I'm not Kira!

More pain.

I'm not Kira!

And even more pain.

Please, I swear! Don't! I'm not a murderer! I'm not Kira! I'm not Kira!

The pain at this point is blinding, so blinding he cannot do anything but scream and scream and scream but god he has to tell him. Because he's not Kira. He was right, he doesn't deserve this, and the fact that it's happening anyway does not comfort him. Instead it makes the pain all the more unbearable he thinks, because he's not Kira. Damn Ryuuzaki, because it's his fault! It must be! He was the only one who truly believed he was Kira, so the devil must agree.

Raito gathers up all the energy and control he possible can, and it takes a long time, but how long he isn't sure. Hours, days, years, lifetimes –he cannot be sure in Hell. But finally he gains enough strength to holler it loudly, and he only has this one chance because –god, he's not Kira. He's not. And he has to tell him –

I'M NOT KIRA!!!

Then, everything is falling. Spiraling downwards toward a single point in the universe, and it's scary and he's dizzy but it doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt! It must have worked, it must have! Excitement boils up inside him, and he's so happy, because he's not in pain anymore. It must have worked! He must have proved himself to –

"Raito-kun."

He realizes he is in a bed. He is in a bed, next to a man, gripping on tightly to that man around the midsection and trembling. His arms around tightly wound around that waist, and truly he doesn't blame himself. He needed something to hold onto to make it through that dream. Raito opens his eyes and looks up and into wide black orbs, and abruptly the memory of the dream slips through his fingers like sand.

L looks down at Raito, who is still shaking and still holding onto hismquite tightly. The dream must have been a bad one. He continually shouted 'I'm not Kira' over and over, and L has no doubt Raito will have a sore throat in the morning. This was a particularly bad dream, and Raito has had them just about every night since he was put on this chain. The stress of being a suspect of mass murder must be weighing down on him.

Raito's breathing settles, and L allows him to still hold onto his midriff, because it is the least he can do after being the cause of these horror-filled nights. But, he does not regret it, and will sentence Raito to a hundred more nightmares if it aids the Kira case.

"I'm not Kira," Raito whispers again, his voice strained and low.

"Raito-kun," L shushes, and it is all he can say in response to it. Saying 'I know' would surely comfort Raito, but it would be a lie. Saying 'I believe you are' was the truth, but would do nothing to help the boy. Instead he just says 'Raito-kun' and hopes that is enough. And so he is sorry. But whatever those dreams are, the certainly cannot be so terrible that he should jeopardize the world in exchange for one man's peace.

And so he condemns Raito to Hell once more.

As it is written, there is none righteous, no, no one.

First quote is in Mark 8:6. The second quote is in Romans 3:10. So, this is my first attempt at horror…um…was is scary? Creepy? Or did it suck? O.O Does it seem unfinished? Somehow it seems more like a prologue than a one-shot. Oh well.

Please, please review and tell me what you think.

And Happy Halloween! (Or the day before)

Nilah