I was never the type to ask questions.
Especially to questions I know the answer to.
But now, since the KIRA case is over, I keep asking myself the same thing over and over again, non-stop.
Why am I here?
What is my purpose?
I can't stand it. I look into the mirror, and all I see is a small sad looking white haired child looking back. I touch the mirror. Who are you? He doesn't answer. All he does is look back at me, with empty black eyes.
I know.
The boy in the mirror is me.
I tug my hair lightly, and I remember that this curly white hair was once black.
I smile slightly, I remember my mother, my aunt, and my mentor, L.
I remember my life, full of questions, hate, and mostly, pain.
And I ask myself,
"What do I do now?"
