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His Little Sister
Chapter 1: History
Claudia is Mello's younger sister by two years. My age. Ever since we were infants, and since Mello could barely read, he protected her. Cherished her. Loved her more then chocolate. Her being number four, she was in all of my classes and I watched her grow up from afar.
She was a sprightly, happy girl who not only excelled in detective skills but in the arts also. She shared straight, blond hair with Mello, but it was much longer, cascading to her waist. What made her distinctly different from Mello was her kindness and compassion towards others, and her bright purple eyes. Without realizing it, Claudia had inspired me many times.
But I've never even had a decent conversation with her. There was this one time, when all the others were ignoring me especially hard, and she came over to me. I could hardly believe it, what could she want with me? Well, she just talked to me in a friendly manner. Until Mello noticed. He came over to us, obviously seething. Claudia was clearly afraid. That evening, while habitually eavesdropping on her room, I could hear Mello yelling at her.
All matters aside, that was her existence. She lived to write and to draw. She lived to be happy. That was the first thirteen years of her life. Her whole personality was flipped upside down and turned inside out when Mello chose to leave.
"Mello I want to come with you!"
"No."
"Mello I can't leave you!"
"Shut up Claudia! You're safer here for now!"
She stood out on the front porch sobbing in the rain. Her wet hair clung to her body. She was mouthing undecipherable words as Mello's figure grew smaller and smaller to her eyes. When he was no longer visible, she began screaming.
It made no difference whether she knew I had been watching her the whole time. She let what she felt flow freely out. It was controlling her. It was consuming her. I tentatively stepped out into the rain. "Claudia, you're going to catch a cold." She thrashed around and bore a burning glare into my head. Glancing down, she left without saying anything, closing the door sharply.
That was the beginning of the Decline. The next day she showed up half an hour late to class, clad in spike-heeled leather boots, fish-net stockings, a really, really tight, short, black sleeveless dress frayed at the edges. Her nails were painted black, she was wearing a whole ton of black eyeliner and black eye shadow, and her lips were painted blood red. Where she had acquired all this stuff when she had locked herself in her room since last night mystified me. Either way, she was the talk of the Wammy's House.
The Decline progressed over the next two years. Claudia dipped into the occult. She could often be found in one of the parlors during the twilight hours, quietly pondering over a Ouija board, burning scented oil. She drew ghastly pictures of what, no one could tell, but either way, they were very frightening and morbid. She spun intricately woven tales of children possessed by demons, riddled with blood and death.
What her true feelings or intentions were, no one knew, but as time went by she grew more and more distant. More and more alone. Soon she talked to no one. Soon she skipped meals, classes, and sometimes she never left her room for a full day. No one knew what she did in there. But one thing was for sure. Mello had wrought her destruction.
The day we were allowed to leave the Wammy's House and never come back, must have been a huge relief. I remember the day quite clearly.
She was just behind me in the line of anxious teenagers. She stood squarely, almost imposingly. I heard Roger call my name, not my real name of course. "Near." I walked up and took my certificate and legal documents from Roger. In the doorway, I lingered, wanting to see how she would take the papers.
"Claudia." She stepped up, her heels clicking loudly. She swiped the papers from Roger, almost clawing the elderly man with her pointed nails. She glared at him, and turned her back extravagantly. She walked past me not even glancing in my direction. That was when I let my emotions have me take a risky leap.
I stepped into my room, grabbing the file on my new anti-Kira organization, the SPK. Out in the hallway, I saw her walking towards the main double-doors, metallic studded black duffel bag in hand. I trotted to catch up with her, surprisingly, I saw her glance at me momentarily, and she flipped her yellow hair as if to say, "I did NOT just look at you." Noticing she wasn't going to say anything, I proposed my proposition. "Claudia, I don't know if you have any plans for the future, but my new organization will gladly fund anything you need."
"Fuck off Near, I can take care of myself!" She spat at me venomously. She quickened her already brisk pace, and I turned around, heading back for my room. Apparently trying to help was ludicrous. Returned to my room, I robotically packed the few material objects I owned, (Other then my toys, I had already packed those.) I didn't know what to think now. Now that there was no Mello to mess with, and Claudia was out of the picture. And I knew that I would be spending supposedly the best years of my life in and enormous office building.
Then again, considering myself I guess I had a pretty small chance of having a social life in the first place.
Oops. I got off track. This story is about Mello's younger sister, Claudia, not me!
I stopped packing, realizing that if I hurried I could still glimpse her one last time, even if she was leaving. I ran through the familiar and well trodden corridors as fast as my small legs could carry me, out the front door and onto the porch.
It was funny, but in the past two years I seemed to have overlooked the fact that Claudia was indeed blood related to Mello. Because when I saw her walking it was in the same angry and rebellious way that Mello had left the Wammy's House walking in. My heart seemed to ache. What a strange feeling. I stood out there the whole time, watching the curve of her waist become less defined. Her long tumble of sun-touched hair melted into her body; soon it was the only thing I could see. Soon she faded. Soon she was gone.
I brought a hand up to twirl a bit of my hair, thinking. Would I ever see her again? Would I ever be able to touch her silky hair? The Lord I don't even believe in only knows.
That was then.
And this is now.