Mello was the kind of boy to walk confidently in halls of Wammy's all the other kids (older or younger) moving out of the way so as to avoid crossing paths with him. But even with this strong reputation, Mello wasn't as strong as people deemed him to be, for if he really was as strong as he said, he wouldn't be a slave to his own mind.
The boy sat in the library surrounded by piles of books. It was 1:35 AM and his elbows were red from keeping his head up, and his eyes were wide so as to avoid the risk of falling asleep. He sat still like a statue, though he let out shaky breaths as he was tortured from the inside out.
This was his fifth night without sleep. This was his fifth night pulling an all-nighter in the library and giving in to the voice in his head; the voice that belonged to his abusive uncle that disappeared many years ago.
"Keep going you worthless, scum!" He would say in the native Russian tongue, and a voice clearly affected by expensive cigars and alcohol. "You wanna make something on yourself, don't you? Or are you gonna finally give up?
That's what I think you should do. After all, you can't run from the fact that you're just plain dumb. You might be book smart, but there's a reason why that little white shit beats you every time."
Mello began trembling, letting out small breaths of air as he tried blocking out the voice with words from the text.
"T-The focus of a-anxiety and worry is n-not confined t-to features o-of-"
The voice let out a roaring laugh that boomed in Mello's mind.
"Holy shit, and you're still going at it? Oh that is hysterical! You think you can actually beat that little brat!" The laughter continued as Mello still shivered and stared down at the textbook. It was haunting, really, he could almost see his uncle laughing at him with a drink in his hand, taunting him and even squeezing his head a few times as he let out taunting words like "pussy" and "dumb-ass" through the laughter.
Finally the laughter calmed, but when it did, Mello could almost feel the chilling breath and smell the reeking vodka as his uncle whispered and growled in his ear.
"You aren't worth shit." He'd say. "You aren't worth L's time. Why are you even here to begin with? You're not gonna make anything out of yourself. The only thing you're good for is threatening little kids and getting into fights.
All you do is make a scene to disguise the fact that you're a weak little shit. You won't contribute anything to society. You're completely worthless, so why try? L can already see it and Near sure as hell can, too."
Mello could imagine his uncle slapping him upside the head for being stupid like he did when he was little. He could imagine him yanking his hair when the boy tried running away.
Mello felt a sudden pain on the side of his head that made him cry out and few tears fell from his face. His uncle's voice was gone, but Mello went back to the books to try and prove him wrong.
The morning that followed was normal, with people moving out of Mello's way, receiving a test score that was lower than Near's, and heading to the library for the usual late night studies.