Dirt, boxes, and more dirt.
That's all that I can see. Honestly, it makes me wonder if anyone ever lived here. Though, I know that someone had, at one point.
And I'm here to find answers.
Answers to questions, questions asked only by myself. Curiosity killed the cat, I could hear people repeating that phrase. But with questions come answers, and with answers come knowledge. Knowledge is what I plan to obtain, in order to climb to the top.
I approach an old, dusty nightstand. Inside one of the drawers, I find a lock. My brows pull together as I wonder what could be inside. I glance around the room, pause, and look at a bed beside me. Hesitantly, I begin to run my hand over it. Sure enough, it grazes a small, hard object. I lift the blankets and grab a key, then turn to the nightstand.
I unlock it, and inside is a book. Recipes, the cover says. I raise one of my dark, neatly plucked eyebrows. "The fuck? Why would someone lock a drawer if it's contents was just a re..." My voice trails off, and I immediately feel like an idiot. Unless...
I open the cover. Inside, there aren't any recipes. There are journal entries. Clever. Making it seem like something completely uninteresting, when it's actually something rather secretive. My eyes skim the page, and I notice that at the bottom, there's someones name. Or rather, an alias. How do I know it's an alias?
Because it's exactly the sort of thing that I was looking for. Someone's belonging...a special someone. Matt. My lips slowly form a smile. I then begin to read the first entry.
November 5th, 2004
I finally dug out that journal that Mello had given me for my birthday last year. He said it was important for me to keep one, so that I can look back on things I've done, and learned, or something stupid like that. I think he was really just trying to be cheesy and get out of the fact that he didn't remember my birthday.
Not like it matters, anyway. I doubt I'll use this much. I don't even understand the purpose of journals, honestly. They're stupid.
Anyway. Mello. He's been acting really weird today. Earlier, he and Near were called down to Roger's office. No one else, just he and Near. I'm guessing the two of them either got in another fight, or Roger called him down to talk about how much better Near was. Something like that. It's odd, though. Mello won't say anything to me, hell, he won't say anything to anyone. He's been praying mostly.
Don't get me wrong, Mello IS very religious. He's just not the type of Catholic who'll spend all day on his knees.
...hahah, all day on his knees.
-Matt
I shake my head. Mature. I then turn to the next page. Near...N, perhaps? Yes, of course...makes sense, right? They were all alive and attending Wammy's at the same time, and there's no other N who succeeds Mello...
October 19th, 2004
It's been weeks since Mello left Wammy's. Today, I gathered my stuff and left, also. I'm writing from beside a highway, behind a billboard. Safe? Not exactly, but the view is nice. There's the occasional police car, or bum, who happens to walk past me, but I just hide in the bushes. No big deal. Anyway, I left, hoping that I could find Mello. To be honest, I haven't put much thought into finding him yet. I've been worried about more important things, like...how am I supposed to charge my video games once the batteries die?
Maybe I'll be able to find some kind of job or something. I'm not sure, I just hope that I find Mello soon...
I hope nothing's happened to him.
-Matt
I slowly close the journal. I glance towards where I had dropped my backpack, then slowly begin to stand up. "This is going to be useful," I say with a slight smile. "Very useful."