Title: A Broken Doll
Summary: Light comes home to find that someone has discovered his Death Note.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Death Note franchise, and no money was made in writing this.
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As he looked upon the gun he held in his bloodied hand he pondered on the choice to end his life this way, how barbaric. Such a waste they would say. They being the ignorant fools who couldn't comprehend such a monster could lurk underneath his handsome façade. That very same monster, ready and willing; to stand in as judge, jury and executioner; to cut out and discard the rotting flesh from the body of society.
They won't understand why he did it, not until they find the body. Cold, limp corpse with blood pooled, stained on his bedroom floor. He had to do something you see, she had found it. She is... was always much too curious for her own good, and clever, though it didn't shine as bright as it should have, next to her brother's brilliance. He could see engraved in his mind the look of disgust and betrayal warring in her eyes along with her tears in the moment she realised all, eyes flitting from him to the Death Note held open in her trembling hands.
He still does not know what happened next, the old clichéd excuse of it all happening too fast slivers to mind. He knows he made to snatch it away from her, but she held on, they struggled, her grief weakening her, she stumbled...
No, he struck her; self-righteous fury of a god being denied empowered him, red mark in livid contrast against the surrounding pale skin, head whipped to the side by the force of the blow. She fell; he can recall a horrible crunching sound as her skull impacted against the corner of the desk, and the thud of her body against the ground...
He leaned down, plucked the Death Note from the floor, ignoring her motionless form, and checked to make sure it was undamaged.
As he stood there, standing over her, precious Death Note clutched in one hand and panting with excursion from the frenzied exchange, he heard the creature chuckling in the corner of the room. He recollects on how the Shinigami thought it was funny that he had just killed her and by brute force no less, how barbaric... humans really are interesting.
Ignoring the death god as usual, his eyes widened when he saw the blood, and understood...
He screamed her name, shook her, and raged. Demanded why she was so stubborn, like they were still children, when she would seize his favourite toy for her own, pleaded and cried that if she had just handed it over it wouldn't have happened. All the while, the death god quivered with hideous laughter.
As he clutched her tightly in his arms, rocking, whilst unfamiliar tears streaked down his anguished face, he realised that this was what death was: ugly, brutal and soul destroying; one cannot build paradise on death.
He left her there, a broken doll thrown away, body discarded on the bedroom floor...
As he calmly placed the gun against his right temple, he thought of the first time he ever saw his little sister; so small and fragile, cocooned in a pink blanket. When she was placed gently in his arms supported by his father, he remembered the sudden overwhelming feeling of protectiveness and warmth for this precious being he held. From that moment, he promised to protect her and love her always. Thinking of that last promise, he pulled the trigger.
The damning evidence lay abandoned, forgotten like a dead spider, underneath his bed, until by chance it was discovered, and hidden. Then unthinkingly, foolishly used, and crazed with grief, he followed in his son's blood-soaked footsteps.
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Author's Note: As this is my first fic, any feedback will be much appreciated, be it that you thought it was just okay, or you liked a particular part. Constructive criticism is also very welcome indeed, so please review, thank you.