Silent.

Just as L Lawliet, the World's Greatest Detective, liked it. He worked his best when there were no distractions, nothing to put him off of his work and nothing to make him lose concentration.
L sat down to his evening cup of sweet tea and his slice of strawberry shortcake, he had just solved yet another case and was taking a little break.
After all, even the great detective needs a break sometimes.

And just like that, the silence was broken. L looked up as he heard a scream coming from the alley way outside his hotel room. He didn't panic, just stayed calm.
He put the plate back on the table and headed out of the door, he couldn't afford to waste his time using the elevator from the top floor so started down the stairs as quickly as he could.

Once out of the building he ran out to the alley. It was dark and because of the lack of street lights, seeing anything was proving diffucult. But one thing was clear to the detective; he sensed danger and he wasn't going to let anything happen.

Screams of hurt and terror came from a young woman who had been pushed to the floor and stabbed in the arm with a stilleto knife. Above her stood a large man, weilding the knife, almost teasing her with it. He was laughing and he had a face that L recognised from one of his cases.

The man realised that L was there, and looked over, glaring at him. He smiled slightly at the detective and came away from the woman.

L kept his cool, though he'd never been in the situation where a man was about to come at him with a knife, he had his capoeira skills to back him up if something did go wrong.
His main objective to get the knife off of the man.

The assailant noticed L staring at him and growled.
"What are you looking at smart-ass?!" He then threw the knife to his other hand and then back again. "Want a bit of this?"

L did not answer, he just continued to map out what he was going to do, he had to avoid that knife at all costs.

"Hey! I'm talking to you! What? You think you're something special?! Huh punk?!"

Again no answer, just L's dark eyes darting at his.

At this point the man with the knife seemed to be getting pissed off. Like, really pissed off, and kicked the woman beneath him and then made a run at L.

Not as he'd planned.
L hadn't deduced his weaponry skills and mistook his actions. He had tried to kick him in his chest, but during his attack, took the blade to his shin.
L gasped and once his injured leg had hit the floor, he fell.

"Mph.. " L grunted with pain and looked back up at the man, who came at him again.
But this time, though L was on the ground, he reached up with his arms and grabbed the knife. They both fought over it, and though L was physically weaker than the man above him, he managed to get it off of him.

That's when it happened.

L wouldn't know how to use a knife if his life depended on it, he didn't have any intentions of using it.. but during the spur of the moment, the man had slipped, falling on top of the detective, causing him to hold the knife out infront of him, which impaled the man right in the heart. He died instantly, his blood spilling out over L.

L couldn't take it all in at once. It was all a blur, one minute he was okay, and now.. there was a corpse, lying on top of him, covering him in blood.
Once he could get his head around it, L's eyes widened and he let out a whimper.
"I.. "
He wriggled out from underneath him and crawled over to his side. He grabbed the man's shoulders and shook him violently.

"Wake up.." L couldn't believe what was happening. He'd just killed him..
When he didn't respond, he looked for a pulse. Nothing. He was dead. He'd.. killed him.
L was covered in blood, the minority of it, still pumping from his leg.
His shirt was practically red, his hands.. were red..
L staggered to his feet and tried his best to run back to his hotel room.
It was late and no one was about thankfully. No one in the elevator, no one in the corridors.
He limped back into his room and to the bathroom, locking the door.

He grabbed the tap handles and desperately turned them on, trying to wash the blood off of his hands. The detective breathed heavily, still in pain with his leg, but he was too distracted with the blood.. and what he'd done.
L grabbed a rag and viciously scrubbed at his hands. It seemed to come off.
He then yanked his shirt off and threw it to the floor.
Letting out a sigh of slight relief, L looked into the mirror, the blood was gone.
The deeper he looked into the mirror, he noticed something,..
Blood was reappearing on his face, it was just oozing out from every possible place it could.
His eyes turned a crimson red colour and he seemed to be wearing a black shirt. His reflection grinned a sick, twisted grin.

"NO!"

L clenched his eyes shut and punched the mirror, smashing it into pieces.
He breathed heavily, his fist starting to bleed.

This.. It couldn't be happening.

Not again..