(A/N – why yes, this is the fourth story I have posted today! And guess what else? Its death note! *smile*
This story is way different from the others. It is (and will be) much more mature than anything else I have made. It is also a bit more forward, because this was originally a oneshot, but I am expanding it to make it a story! Although it is mature, I will not be including ANY sex scenes. I'm thirteen. I'm lucky I could write what I already have (although implied sex I will include). So, here we are, BB gets some love! . . .well more like lust *evil smile*
I don't own Death Note, or the LABB murder cases. Those belong to Ohba, Obata, and Nisio Isin. If I did own them, BB so would have been in the actual manga, even if it would be for a panel. I mean Matt got like 10 panels, total, and look at what he has fangirl wise!
I would like to thank deathfox13 for telling me that there were no line breaks for POV ^^" sorry about that, but they show up on my word processor, and I had no clue that they didn't show on FanFiction.
The theme song for this chapter is Hit the Floor by Bullet for my Valentine.)
Chapter 1 - Prey
I woke from a deep sleep. I pulled the covers away from my face and tried to concentrate. My ears were sensitive, I woke even when there was a slight disturbance. When I had to share a room with my sister, who happens to snore like an old man, I just couldn't sleep. This also served as an early warning system for me. I had caught burglars, not trying to break into my house, but my neighbor's. I also had to buy a house because of this problem, unlike my friends, who all lived in apartments in the city.
I softly groaned. I couldn't hear a thing that wasn't normal. I reached for the glass of water on my nightstand, but found it empty. I sighed and shuffled to the kitchen, looking into every room as I went. Ever since I had been stalked by a very creepy kid in high school, I had been paranoid. I opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water. As I was about to walk back to my room, I noticed the window in my living room was wide open. I walked to the window, making no sound as my bare feet glided over the soft carpet.
As I closed the window, I heard the slightest movement behind me. Burglar. I didn't move. I felt the disturbance in the air as the intruder made his way slowly towards me. I could hear his breath now. Just a bit closer . . .
"Hia!" I whipped around, swinging my right root in an arc and bringing it down on the creeper's arm. I had underestimated the intruder's height, meaning to break the collarbone.
"Umh . . ." The man's breath had been knocked out of him, but he was still standing. I noticed that he was holding a long knife in one hand, and that his hair was very long and unruly. I stepped back and positioned myself in a fighting stance. Thank god for Tae Kwon Do lessons.
The man lifted his head, and with an animal snarl, ran at me and slashed his knife at my neck.
Don't be afraid of the knife, don't be afraid of the cut, I thought, doing my best to block his blow, but still getting cut. Moonlight glinted off of the newly spilt blood.
The man regained his balance as I turned to face him. He was smiling like a madman, his red eyes glinting. Red eyes? He stabbed at my stomach, and I blocked it with my injured left hand, grabbing his wrist with my other hand and moving the knife to my other side. I then yanked on his arm, sending both our bodies to the ground, my knee landing on his forearm. I twisted his wrist and snatched the knife out of his hand.
The man looked genuinely surprised, and seemed to look above my head. "How does that even happen?" he whispered to himself.
"It's called self defense, scumbag," I growled, throwing the knife into the kitchen. He smiled, it was creepy and unnerving, but somehow seductive as well. Oh, god, you need to get a boyfriend, an inner voice whispered to me
"You shouldn't have done that," he said, quickly pushing my knee off of his arm and practically jumping on top of my body, pinning my arms down and straddling my waist.
"You shouldn't have done that," I countered, quickly jerking my hands to my waist, making his grip loosen. I then thrusted my hips off of the ground, surprising him and making him fall forward. I hooked his right arm with my left, and did the same with my feet. I then collapsed his stance, and straddled him. I noticed how sexually this all felt. Again, need to get a guy, you stinkin' virgin.
Before I could pin his arms, or even punch him, he had gripped my injured arm with both of his hands, and pushed his upper body out from under me. He wrapped both his legs around my stomach and used his strength to flip me over. As he was flipping me, he flicked his wrist, and a small switchblade fell out of the sleeve of his black T shirt. Aw, shit.
As I landed with him on top of me, he sat on my stomach, and used his knees to pin my hands to the floor. This was not helping my cut; it was bleeding more than ever. That evil smirk was prominent on his face as he brought the blade close to my cheek.
"Breathe Betrayal," he whispered, slicing my cheek with the knife. I flinched as the cold blade penetrated me.
"B . . . B," He said as he carved the letters into my skin. I tasted blood. I uselessly flailed my legs and tried to free my arms, but it was no use.
"How do you know my name?" I whispered, trying to keep my voice even, and succeeding.
"I have the eyes," he muttered cryptically, bringing a finger drenched in my blood along the corner of his eye. The stain it made was the exact color of his eyes.
"Wh-what are you going to do with me?" I cried, now frantically trying to free myself from the maniac's grip. If I could just get away, if there was one weak spot I could reach . . . but there was none. My knees banged on his back, but that made no difference. My hands were immobile, and I was nowhere close enough to bite him.
"Hm, I was asking myself the same question. Would you prefer to be chopped into bits and strewn about the house, or drowned in the bathtub? Perhaps both?" He contemplated, cupping his chin with his bloodied hand.
I was dead. I would die. This man would slit my throat, and then mutilate the rest of my body, in some sort of strange murder. I would die a virgin. Never married, no children. I had never even had a real boyfriend. Sure, I had dated, but never found anyone worthy. I never would. I was dead.
I cried silent tears as this man contemplated how to kill me. He noticed my tears and wiped them away with his clean hand.
"Don't cry, you will be a work of art, the first in the collection. Won't that be a great honor?" he mused, stroking my hair now. This guy was insane. He looked about my age. What had caused him to turn killer? To murder me?
"No, it won't! I want to live Goddamnit!" I yelled, using all my strength to push this man away from me. He fell to the ground and I ran down the hall, knocking over a table and tripping once. I stormed into my room and locked the door, pushing my dresser in front of it. I then started to rifle through my closet, pulling aside all sorts of useless items, looking for my weapon.
"Goddamnit!" I yelled hysterically, this was taking too long. My hands were shaking, adrenaline pumping through my veins. I cursed myself for the weak moment when he had me pinned. I wouldn't die. I won't let him kill me. I was the master of my own life, and I wouldn't let him take it.
I pulled my weapon from the closet, and waited for him to attack the door.
I snapped to my feet, dazed from her assault. She was obviously stronger than I thought she was. I licked her blood off of my fingers. No matter, she would die.
Or will she? I thought. She was different. Her numbers, her lifespan, they kept changing. I only knew of one other person that could change their lifespan like that, and that was A. Today, when I had saw her on the street, her time was up. But when she had been fighting me, her span jumped to fifty years from this date. And for seconds, just barely flickers, it would jump to just under two years from now.
I was starting to doubt myself. I shouldn't do that. I need to end her life; I need to become greater than L. All this girl will ever be is a pawn. A pawn in a game bigger than hers.
I pressed my ear to the door, my staff gripped tightly. My Bo staff, which I hadn't used in years. It was still covered in cobwebs and a few bloodstains.
I could hear him shuffling down the hall, he was obviously winded. But he still had that knife. I twisted the staff in my hands. I had moved the dresser from in front of the door. If there was going to be a standoff, it was going to be fair. I wasn't going to cower. I was a fighter.
"Trick or treat?" the killer whispered through the door. I jumped slightly, not expecting his voice to be so close. My heartbeat sped up, and I stepped back from the door.
"No treat? Well, we can't have that," he said, creeping me out. Fingernails ran down the door, making scratching noises that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. He then turned the doorknob, slowly, as if he knew that would creep me out more than just charging in with that animal glare.
As the door opened, his shadowed form appeared, and the moon was released from its cloud covering. We were both bathed in moonlight. Blood dripped from my arm onto the carpet, staining my pajamas as it went. The blood from my cheek ran down my face, and down my neck, soaking my hair. I raised my staff and contorted my face into what I could only describe as a snarl. No one messes with Breathe Betrayal and gets away with it.
He eyed the staff, and his blade glinted as he stalked into the room. He was still smirking, his red eyes shining.
Get on with it! Charge me already! I thought as I gripped my staff. He finally attacked, slashing downward from my left to my right. I blocked it with the staff, spinning with it so that it was knocked from his hands. He stared at me, astonished. It was my turn to smirk. I swung at him, connecting with his midsection. I used my leg to sweep his feet out from under him, and grabbed his switchblade, still covered in blood. I straddled his midsection and used my knees to pin down his arms, just like he had done to me.
I brought the blade to his face, and sliced down his jawline. He moaned.
"How do you like it!" I growled, venom dripping from my words. I actually enjoyed causing him pain. Cutting him released my anger like fighting with my fists never could. It was like I was carving my pain deep into him.
"I don't . . . I love it," he moaned as I sliced into his skin again. I took the knife away from his face, disgusted by his answer. What kind of sick pup was he? Then something clicked. He couldn't be enjoying this, no one was sick enough. He was trying to fool me, to disgust me into dropping the knife and giving him the upper hand. I wasn't buying it.
I carved into the skin around his eye and he actually quivered under my touch. "Breathe . . ." he murmured, his eyes rolling in his head. I smirked. I liked this power, this feeling that I could control him, that I was the predator and he the prey.
God, I was enjoying this. I had never been cut before; I had never even been resisted before this night. I was feeling what my victims had felt, those few practice runs before the real killing. I had never felt pain like this. I wouldn't even call it pain, I would call it ecstasy.
As she cut me, she smirked, obviously pleased by the results, even though she would not admit it to herself. As I watched her face, I noticed her lifespan. It was spinning, numbers turning so fast it made my head hurt. And as I watched, they flashed red and the date appeared, the one two years from now. It seared into the air, finalized. It occurred to me that she had chosen her path, and that she would not die tonight, no matter how much I tried to kill her.
God, I was enjoying this. I needed more of this power, this need for blood. I took the knife and sliced his shirt open. He stared at me, waiting for my next move. I slid down his body, eyeing my new canvas. I brought a bloody hand to my face, cupping my chin.
"You are more like me than I expected," he purred. He slid his hands out from the grip of my knees and flipped my over, taking the knife from me. I growled. What right did he have to take my power?
He pinned me to the ground, his blood mixing with mine as it dripped off his chin and onto my face. As he positioned himself on top of me, I couldn't help but notice the look in his eyes. It wasn't the look of a pissed off killer, it was a look of lust. Oh, great job Breathe, now you have a deranged and horny murderer.
He seemed fixated on my still bleeding cheek. He leaned down, rubbing his hands up my arms as he grew closer to my face. I shivered, I was so scared. Not of him, of my own feelings. I couldn't tell if I was shivering because of fear or pleasure as his bloody hands rubbed against my skin. He brought his tongue to my cheek and lapped up my blood, leaving my body tingling. Inside my mind, I was at war.
Knee him in the crotch! Bite him! Get him off of you! yelled my sensible side. Don't do a thing! Moan! Bite him! cried the side of me that wanted to just melt into his touch. I was so confused, I didn't know what to do. I had always been strong when faced with a challenge like fighting or solving a problem. But boys, men, whatever you want to call them, I was a goner when faced with that kind of decision.
As he lapped at my cheek, I moaned. I had given in to my desires. I didn't care if this man was a killer now; I knew that I was better than him, that he was weak compared to me. He was some killer if he could be distracted by such a simple thing as lust. I was some fighter to be distracted by the same damn thing.
He sunk his teeth into my neck, bringing me back from my thoughts. I screamed as blood began to pour from me in yet another place. He sucked on my neck as if he were a vampire and his very being depended on the liquid. I wound my hands into his hair as pain and pleasure mixed together to create this feeling. I couldn't describe it. I couldn't describe anything right now.
"What's your name?" I panted. I wanted to know so that I could scream it to the heavens, declare that I was the one who had cut him. He was my prey and no one else could have him.
"Beyond . . . Birthday," he growled between bites as he nipped at the skin on my neck. I had enough of this, and rolled us over so that I was on top now. Before he could say a thing, I bit him like he had done to me, and I tasted the metallic tang of fresh blood.
He rolled us over again, and pushed his mouth onto mine. The kiss surprised me. It was softer, yet still passionate and urgent. I wrapped my hands around his naked shoulders, pulling him to me, not able to get enough of him.
I had been kissed before, by two different people. John, in sixth grade. He hadn't really known what he was doing, and it was unsatisfying. Rick, in college. He was all passion, he would just stick his tongue down my throat with no warning.
But Beyond, oh dear Lord.
It was amazing.
He slid his tongue into my mouth and explored me. I let him as I just melted into his touch, it was as if I was dying of thirst and he was water. I needed him with all my being, just needed him. He moved to my neck again, nibbling my earlobe.
"Beyond . . ." I mumbled. He trembled as I whispered his name. He flipped up over in the pool of blood we had created. I was now on top of him. He picked up the knife that had been discarded in our passion.
"Breathe, cut me," Beyond murmured, almost pleadingly. I smirked, gripping the knife in my hand and feeling that same power pulsing through my veins. I had control. No one could take this feeling away from me.
I carved into his skin, and Beyond moaned and arched into the blade. I sliced move of his skin, carving my name into him. I would always be a part of him, he would carry that with him always. By the time I carved the last E into his chest, he had actually reached his climax.
"Oh, god, BREATHE!" he screamed, releasing his passion.
I felt the exact same way, the power from the knife seeping through my body to my very core. I had climaxed long ago, but the power still pulsed through me, leaving me breathless.
"I know, Beyond," I murmured, cuddling against his bloody chest, licking his wounds. I had branded him as my own, claimed him.
He stroked my hair, his eyes closed. I could tell he was exhausted, as was I.
My ears pricked, their sensitivity sensing a buzz. My eyes widened and I pushed off of Beyond.
"What is it?" Beyond asked, half annoyed, half worried.
"Cops," I simply said, and he understood immediately. I threw his shirt to him, and he picked up the knife. I felt as if a piece of me was being torn away.
"Evidence," he whispered, understanding my anguish. I nodded. He walked down the hall, wiping things down with his bloody shirt as he went, making sure no prints were left behind. I stared down the hallway, watching him leave.
I would not let the police arrest him.
He was my prey.
Not theirs.