A silent film and sweet insanity.
-
He watched with less conviction as the images within the small dark box continued to roll, nothing else coming out of its audio speakers except the scratching and buzzing sounds of static. He had seen this movie for countless times already, yet he wasn't sick of it- perhaps its because he felt haunted by it somewhat, or he didn't have anything else to do this particular night.
Slim dark eyebrows meet slightly upon his wrinkled forehead, now bathing in the grayish hues of light. Upon his lap lay a thin notebook with silver characters etched upon its cover, partly covered by his hand. There was no one home; there wasn't anyone left in this suite room.
He was, truth be told, quite disturbed by the rising nemesis of his. He wasn't as good as L, but he was just as intimidating. Quite. And, out of fear of being put in prison, being thrown off his throne, he plans to kill himself first. Before anyone else does.
Killer, killer. He isn't that. He isn't a criminal! He's something more. He is a god. Or so he believes.
And the scene, oh the cruel, identical scene; it is exactly the same scenario being played in the television right now, and he sighs to kiss the smooth screen. Thanks for the cruelty. For the glimpse of reality. Getting down on all fours, the notebook sliding from his lap, he lays his soft lips upon the cold glass. Whispers.
"I'll die tonight, my sweet. Tonight."
That's what it read in the subtitles, but he relishes it as if it was his own words, his own script written. Languidly he slides his fingers over the glowing screen, grinning.
Because of the countless replays, he had already memorized all that is said. If only life was like a silent film being played again and again; he wanted to etch in his mind all the words.
"Hand me the knife. Or anything."
With this, he raises the discarded pen upon the carpeted floor, to his throat. Draws a dark line on his neck.
"I shan't pay with doing my time. No, I want to die."
Can the pen truly kill? How thick, how blunt is the point! He doesn't think it can kill. His logical mind argues against it.
But it should.
"I have killed many with this knife. It is only sensible that I, the killer, shall die by the blade of it."
He presses it upon his flesh. Not even a drop of blood. A curse. No, that is not a part of the play.
"No! No! Let me die tonight, my sweet, whilst everything so silent and wrong-"
He crashes himself upon the glass table beside the couch, again and again, until it gives way and shatters into a million sharp pieces.
This is your life, flashing before your eyes
Hands fumbling for blades, scratching itself with the glass in the process-
All the riddles and rhymes, echo in your mind
All thoughts and sense blocked out, he drives one edge into his stomach-
It looks as though the joke is on you
Near would win, but Kira won't lose.
as your blood runs cold and the plot Thickens
And yet, in the end-
inside the mind of a killer, this could all be yours
It would all be in vain.
End.
-
A/N: GAHAH RANDOMNESS. And yes, the title is two songs by Dog Fashion Disco. xD Two lovely, insane songs. See why I wrote this? It isn't boredom. It's SWEET INSANITY! 8D I should die now. Anyway, Reviews are still welcome. x3 I love you people. Pardon my weirdness though. Dx
