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?"