I lie on my back quite easily, the thin cot that I use for a mattress in no way comfortable. I quietly close my eyes and listen to the sound of my beating heart. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Over and over and over….

It angers me; the sound is like consistent mocking.

I lost to L- only because of that ridiculous and completely ignorant pawn, Naomi Misora- and that beating sound is like his victorious laughter.

It's driving me absolutely insane.

Of course, I already am, clinically. Nobody but I myself can understand that my "insanity" is not insanity at all. I just see clearly, without the mental blockades that all normal human beings seem to force upon themselves about death. And, this "insanity", no matter how many times they try to get me to say it, is and was not brought on by my own doing- not even from my eyes that, of course, would drive another weaker individual insane within three days- no; it was and is still brought on by L himself. At one point I admired him- perhaps I even wanted to be him, but when I realized that I was just as capable as he was, just as intelligent and clever- I wanted to surpass, rather than succeed. However, nobody could understand that. Not now.

A had understood. Alina had. My beautiful Alina.

For the first time in what has felt like forever I seem to feel the corners of my mouth move from their ever constant frown into a slight smile. She was always so understanding.

But of course, all good things come to an end- and that is, of course, what happened. She ended her life so simply- in such a way that she didn't deserve. I often think I could've stopped it. I knew she was going to die that day, I could've easily had held her down somewhere, or, held her in my arms until the second after midnight on that dim night. What would death have done then, when it was robbed of her life?

I hear the latch click quietly to the door in the wall opposite of my lone cell. I muse on how many doors with steel bars and locks this guard had to go through to get to me. I don't look up- rather, I ignore the petty and useless existence whose only job is to bring me sustenance.

I wait quietly for the sound of the tray, but that is not the sound I hear. Rather, a voice breaks through the darkness behind my eyelids, pushes them open to view who is standing there, just a foot away from my cell door.

"You've changed BB…" murmurs the quiet and sympathetic voice.

I reply with stunned silence.