Any Last Words
Don't listen to me; my words aren't meant for soothing comfort.
Disclaimer: Oh, yeah! Of course I own Death Note and its Characters! That's exactly the reason why I am writing fanfiction about it. –Rolls eyes- I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I don't own Death Note or its Characters.
A/N: Someone said something rude (Of course, not to me. I'm too awesome for anyone to do that to me.) at school today. Then this one girl went on a rampage about how words could do so much damage to ones conscious that it made me want to write about it. Then again, she ruined it by turning around, and calling my cousin a bitch .-. So, yeah, my opinions on where I get my inspiration are very low right now.
Enjoy.
Words, nothing but words; yet, they can cause so much damage. So much hurt and pain, it makes wounds so deep that no one can see them. Harsh, clipped, so final and so leading. Words are truly bullets of the mouth.
The words that flowed from my mouth watered the seeds that they have planted, cultivating them and growing them. A looked so lost and so hopeless, my words captivated him. My words helped build a wall of beautiful lies, lovingly secured, but at the same time, so fragile. Like cats ice, it shattered.
I could only watch as the wall fell down, and crumbled around A, the harsh attack of brutal reality leaving him wide eyed and gasping.
One could see him struggling, grasping for a resolve, something solid to hold onto. Anything for him to hold onto, to help him escape the pit; like quicksand, pulling him down slow, making him shudder and vomit from agony of the harsh world, only to be fully immersed before anyone could reach out and help him.
Like anyone wanted to help; they had their own problems to attend too. I only stood by, watching sadly as the scarred boy wandered until his last breath, a gasping sob, a shaky good bye.
For some unknown reason, I had remembered how I led A on years later. A and Naomi Misora seemed to blur together, both haunting my nightmares as I lay in the hospital bed. I was tried for the account of three murders, and I stood before the court, the jury, and the judge.
Their burning stares seemed to char my inner core, burning me with their accusing hatred. I simply stared ahead, blankly, refusing to give any social reaction they were expecting to see. It didn't take one to realize what they wanted from me:
They wanted me to break down, to confess my sins, to cry, to struggle.
Sad, I didn't feel like struggling. I had always had something to say, to anything anyone wanted to discuss with me. The ability to talk, and charm my way out of anything seemed never lacking on my soul. But no, not today, it would seem that today was the day my words left me. My tongue seemed tied, every time I thought about opening my mouth, leaving my mouth dry.
No, today was different. I was trembling, vibrating under my skin. My muscles were tense, the skin covering them were covered with bandages. The blood that flowed through my veins seemed icy, making me ache. Yet, somehow, I felt incredibly…calm. Like the world will keep on spinning even though I lost; I was standing here, I was alive, and I was a loser.
But the world didn't end.
The words that seemed to have abandoned me, I realized, have not left me at all. I simply had nothing more to say. What else can I say? I used up all my words, and even if I babbled over like an overfull fountain, who will listen to me?
Because I honestly think that even I wouldn't listen to the soothing lies I spoke.
"Beyond Birthday," The Judge said. "You are guilty of the three murders of: Believe Bridesmaid, Quarter Queen, and Backyard Bottomslash," Their faces flashed in my mind, my ongoing list of people who will haunt me in my feverish dreams.
"Do you have any last words?"
I smiled sadly, and shook my head.
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-BMTM