Title: Luminous
Summary: "He bathed himself in white because he feared the dark; the shine could illuminate the inky blackness. But the moonlight became stained in red…"
A/N: So I wanted to write horror for whatever reason, and so here we are! This is vague, but enjoy. Dedicated to MyMello'sMatty.
Nate Rivers walked through the halls of Wammy house, one hand twirling absentmindedly in his snowy hair and the other clutching a toy robot. The moonlight shining through the stained glass colored the floor and the walls and washed the boy in soft pinks and blues. He continued walking until he found a corner set up with a white sleeping bag. The ceiling to floor window was clean of any oils or fingerprints or dust, perfectly clear and pristine. Bright moonlight shone through and illuminated the hallways as Near climbed into the sleeping bag, clutching the toy robot tighter.
Ever since he was young, the white haired boy had been afraid of the dark. Realistic, really, that a small child should be afraid of the dark and of the possibilities of what lurked in the shadows, but the genius boy of nine would be ridiculed now if anyone knew. But the dark is why he'd come to Wammy's, for in the dark his parents had been slaughtered. His once beautiful, light brown hair had been splattered with their blood as the knife that killed them descended on his chest, slicing shallowly into the cavity. And ever since, Near had been afraid of what lurked in the dark, afraid of sleeping and afraid of venturing into shadows alone.
The boy curled up on his side in the sleeping bag, hugging his knees to his chest and taking small comfort in the moonlight that washed everything in its pale luminosity. The creaks and groans of the old building sounded and the boy knew all of them, methodical and frequent. Wind howled outside; occasional footsteps padded through the carpet; doors creaked and wood groaned. A door nearby opened slowly and a figure emerged, still unaware of Near's consistent camping here. The soft padding through the plush carpet told Near that L was awake when Wammy wasn't; L was making a cake run. When he returned, and if Near strained his ears, he'd be able to hear the chair rolling and the keys clacking.
He rolled over and began playing with the robot, adjusting and readjusting the arms and legs until his hand fell limp and the toy dangled from his grip.
New footsteps sounded nearby, but the white haired boy was fast asleep, comforted by the shining light behind his eyelids. The slouched figure approached and stood behind the boy, the bag's shadow cast about his bare feet. Eyes looked down at the small lump in the moonlight as the figure crouched, pulling his knees to his chest and tilting his head in a comical manner. A small knife came into view, glinting in the light. It was a throwing knife meant for hunting birds or small game and used only by those gifted with aim and strength.
The man pulled out another toy; a Slinky. He twisted and warped the plastic until it was pliable under his hands and set it aside for later use, pulling a bag closer to him and extracting a small ball of cloth and beads; a Hackensack. The figure smiled gruesomely and peeled the top of the sleeping bag back, stroking the snowy hair and worming his hand underneath a pale cheek, uncurling the boy. As a shadow passed over Nate's face, coal eyes opened slowly and widened with fear at the glinting eyes looking down at him.
Nate squirmed onto his back and tried to lash out, only to have his wrist caught by a bony hand. As he opened his mouth to scream, the Hackensack was shoved harshly into his mouth to muffle the sound. His wrists were encircled by the warped Slinky and tied up in the plastic as the hunched figure straddled Nate, kicking his legs down and locking his thighs down. The small knife came into view again and the murderer grinned, eyes gleaming sadistically at the fear written in the black eyes that were swimming with tears that cascaded down his cheeks.
The knife plunged and began a thin outline of Nate's lips, digging in a little deeper with each round it made. Five times around and the man moved the knife up, placing the tip against his left eyebrow and dragging it down. Shallowly, the knife penetrated the flesh all the way down past the eye that was weeping blood and tears. The process repeated once more before the murderer brought the knife down and began carving at his victim's throat. The incisions were now deep and though hurried, methodically patterned. Nate bled out quickly and his eyes faded from stunning black to slate grey, unseeing.
The torso was stripped of the pajamas and long, thin cuts were formed with the knife until the moonlight washed over a bloody torso inscribed with Roman numerals: XIII.
Beyond Birthday straightened from his unnatural crouch with the knife, moving to the opposite wall where the bloody letters would be seen. He dug the knife into the wood and began carving in gruesome letters, eventually forming words.
Lawlipop
I'm back
A cruel smile twisted Beyond's lips into something unrecognizable as he stalked through the halls of Wammy House, humming to himself.
He'd make Lawli see that he was the only true successor.
A/N2: Hey you! Yeah, you reading this. You're amazing for reading, but you'd be even more amazing if you'd review. Please? *puppy dog eyes*