About Bullet Holes, Battle Scars and Love Bites: Basically a series of one-shots, that according to me, are too short to end up on their own. That means anything I write that's less than 1500-2000 words will be chucked into this little collection here.

Death of Time.

Characters: Matt.

Rating: T

Summary: Everything had stopped moving, the sun, the earth, the neon green numbers of the digital clock in Matt's room. Time was dead. The world had ended and Matt was the lone survivor.

Warnings: This barely makes any sense…or does it?

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.

Author's Notes: Something to think about. Enjoy.

The sun has stopped rising. The earth stopped turning. The world was still all around me. Time was dead….and has been for ages now….or would've been if the concept of an age had lasted. But for some reason I'm aware of everything. I'm still here.

It has been this way for a while now. I sit here at a laptop, staring blankly at it. I check my emails on each of my five accounts and then I check my phone to see if I missed a call. And then when I have done that I go back to checking my email, living life in this odd loop, like a broken record stuck on repeat. There's no new email, no missed call.

When I realize I'm on a loop I pick up a video game and start playing just so I can fool myself into believing that time hasn't really stopped. Of course it had stopped. Nothing was happening.

I glance at the cracked clock face. The green neon lights tell me it is 4:30am. I squint at it. It was 4:30am an hour ago. I shrug. Time isn't moving.

Quite frankly I have played so many games lately with so little concentration that I have absolutely no clue what I'm playing. It's a pixelated indie horror game of some sort. A sharp noise erupts from the game, it makes me jump a centimeter out of my skin. The corners of my lips curl up in a small barely there kind of smile. That little jump is the first time I have felt alive in what feels like ages.

I notice glare on the screen and frowning I turn to look where the light is coming from. It's the sun. The sun is rising behind me. I frown at it. I thought it had stopped rising. Who pulled my curtains aside? I pull my goggles on. No matter. I have no need for the sun. It's just an illusion. Time has really stopped. I'm the only one aware of the fact that it has. Everyone else is stuck in stand-still.

The sun warms my back. I feel like it's urging me to get up. I frown. It's an illusion. I know it. I'm going mad. It's just an hallucination. Because time has stopped and how could the sun rise if time had stopped?

Frowning and throwing the controller at the screen, irritated by the sun's constant urge, I leave my seat on the floor and look around for a shirt. Any shirt would do. I pull out an old pacman shirt and pull it over my head.

Re-adjusting the goggles, I step out of my room expecting the aftermath of the doomsday to greet me. It'd be dead and silent and still. Everyone would either be dead or frozen in time.

I walk down the empty hallway. My rather large bare feet swat noisily against the cold shiny tiles. As I reach the end of the hallway I hear laughter. It's distant. I frown, eyes wide in disbelief. How could this be? Laughter? Even though time is standing still?

I hear it again, beckoning me. I follow it. It becomes louder, meshed with sounds of clacking plates and spoons and chatter. How? I run towards the tall wooden doors beyond which the noise is coming from. I slam my palms against the wooden doors and push them violently aside.

I'm going mad. It's an hallucination. Time is not moving.

The voices stop. The children in the dining hall at Wammy's are staring at me. Their hot breakfasts are being ignored. There's a little whisper somewhere.

"You don't know him?" The whisper dances in my ears. "He's Matt."

I turn to look for the whisperer. I walk through the aisle, tables on either side, littered with children, gawking at me like I was the odd thing. They're the ones that are odd. Time is standing still. How can they move?

"What's up with him?" Another whisper. I whizz my head towards it.

"They say he's gone mad."

"Mad?" I say but my voice doesn't even make it to my own ears.

"It's ever since Mello left."

The name strikes my blood cold. I stop in my tracks.

"Mello." I whisper. If time is moving again….then maybe….just maybe…

"Matt?" A familiar voice calls out to me. I look for the owner. It's a girl, blonde, short, in blue paint covered overalls. She is Linda. I scurry towards her.

"Where is he?" I croak.

"Where's who?"

"Mello."

"He left Wammy's, Matt." The look on her face is apologetic. Her voice is softer than usual. I hear pity in it. "He's been gone for six months now. You know that, don't you?"

"Isn't he back?"

"No." Her forehead is creasing. She places a hand on my arm, apologetic, feigning concern.

"He's not back." I say. But how could it be?

"No." She repeats. "But it's good to have you back."

I frown. "I haven't been gone."

"No." She smiles. "But you have been locked in your room for the past six months."

Author's Notes: Reviews would make me feel good. Thanks for reading.