Chapter One

Just So Much Love

"Love, love, love!" She chanted.

Each time she said the word was worse then the last, each word tripping with poison and malice, each word accompanied with the stab of a knife. Blood gushed from the stab wounds. A coppery, sickening stench filled the air of the house. The pool of blood grew bigger and bigger. It is amazing how much blood the human body contained. It was also amazing how much thicker and gooey it was, yet how easily it flowed. I felt sick o my core but all I could do is stand there and stare. Blood splatter rained on my face and clothes. My socks were drenched in red. The warmth still in the blood sent shivers down my spine.

The sound should have been enough to make me pass out. The swing of the knife in the air, the squelch as the knife entered the body, and the sound of blood splattering on the floor.

Run. I wanted to run. But my feet would not move. I couldn't speak. My muscles did little more then flinch with every movement of the knife. I was a prisoner in my body. I was a prisoner in my mind. I could do nothing but watch with undivided attention.

Finally she stopped, taking ragged breaths and adjusting her grip on the knife. She stared at her gruesome work without a hint of sanity or guilt in her eyes. Not pleased with what she saw she gave her victim a finishing slash across the chest. She straightened up and stared at her hand. The knife still dripped with blood, the body still oozing it.

"I just wanted you to love me." I was not sure who she was saying that to, me or to him. She turned to me and looked at me with cold dark eyes; the angry frenzy that had been in her moments ago seemed to be returning fast. She dropped the knife carelessly to the ground and bent down and picked something off the body of her victim.

It was a gun. Its barrel was still shiny, and it's fear inducing power down diminished by it's miniscule size. She turned to me again and lifted the gun to point at me. My heart beat so hard I could have sworn she had heard it and was using the source of the sound as a target. I quickly glanced at the still and bloody corpse of my father lying on the floor.

"It's your fault." She said. They were the last words I'd ever hear from my mom, before she shot her self in the head.

That was the day both my parents died.

I was born to Soichiro and Sachiko Yagami. At the time I was beloved by both my parents. My mother was glad to have someone to fuss over and keep her company while my dad was at work. My dad loved that I was there to carry on his legacy.

It was when I was two when my intelligence started showing its self. I had amazing drawing skills and learned words quicker then anyone had seen a toddler do before. My father was so proud of me and took every opportunity to encourage and enrich my mind. He read me books and I read him others back. He taught me Japanese history and traditions and told me about his job.

His strong sense of justice left a great impression on me, inspiring me to have my own. He was so honest and devoted to his work, making me want to do nothing but become a police officer like him.

Young me (ages 3-7) wanted to do nothing but please my dad. He was the world to me. I drew pictures of him and me on paper and once or twice drew fake glasses and mustache on my face, which amused my father greatly.

When I started school I worked hard to excel at everything I did, which was easy for I always seemed to be at least a step ahead of my fellow class mates. When I finished school work early my teacher would let me read books, which I used to make me learn even more. My progress gained me praises from my teachers and fellow students, but my dad's praise was all that mattered.

He brought me often to the police station to show me his workplace and show me off to his coworkers. They all loved me, too. They called me the deputy chief and gave me many tasks to complete. These tasks ranged from shredding old paper documents to fetching coffee. I so wanted to follow in my father foots steps and become a detective and solve crimes.

Despite my love to learn, the best days were the ones Soichiro had a day off of work and took me to the playground. Those days I acted like a true child. I ran around like a ball of energy, collected leaves to give to my dad, and climbed the jungle gym and pretended to be a god who was invisible to anyone.

I guess neither me and my dad noticed the way my mom's eyes tightened when Soichiro would come home and greet me first, or the way her smile faltered when dad praised me at dinner, and not her cooking, or the way she weakly wished them a good time at work when my father brought me to work yet again, having only brought her three times in total since she met him.

We also failed to notice how she would get angry when dad chose to spend yet another day off with me at the playground instead of taking her out on a date and leaving me home instead. Those days she would prepare a huge meal that must have taken hours to prepare, most of them spent cutting vegetables with her kitchen knife in silence for hours.

At home I was too busy reading my books and playing with puzzles and my toys to notice how my mother would rarely speak to me or showed me affection. I got all my loving attention from my dad, so I never seeked it from my mom.

I guess one day she snapped. She had spent too long watching he husband drift away from her and dote on another, too long watching her only child depend on another and not need her for comfort and care like a normal young child.

I was seven at the time. It was a weekend so I was home from school, reading a book on the couch about the solar system. My mom had been acting somewhat odd. She watched none of her usual daytime dramas and spent all day in the kitchen prepping vegetables.

The chopping sound became a part of the background noise in the house, so when it stopped I looked up from my book to see my mom standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. Her knife was still in her hand, her apron still on.

"Light," her voice called out, weak at first then gained a little strength. "Do you want to go out for dinner?"

I put my book on my lap and looked at my mom with confusion. "I thought you were making dinner already?"

My mom stiffened a bit, her lip trembled. "Yes, but I thought it would be fun going out to eat."

"Is dad coming home early?" I asked eagerly. Perhaps she wanted to treat him to a professionally cooked dinner. After all, he saves so many lives each day he deserved to be treated.

She froze up a bit more, her hand twitched. "No, Light, honey, just you and me."

I frowned. "But you prepared a lot of food today. Wouldn't it be a waste?" I questioned her. It's unnecessary to waste all the time she had spent that day on me and her alone. Just yesterday I read a book about the environment and how so many countries wasted food when other countries did have enough to feed all the people in it.

My mom stayed silent, and just looked at me. I thought it was weird but went back to reading my book. I let my self get sucked back into the book. I was floating through space near Neptune when I heard my dad return home. Quickly I put down the book and ran to greet him at the door. He had just taken off his shoes when he looked up and saw me. I jumped into his arms and he laughed.

He put me down and I took his hand leading him into the kitchen, for when he came home it was usually dinner time and he liked to greet mom with a kiss on the cheek. As I led him I recited all my new information on the planets, hoping he'd be happy and give me more praise.

When we arrived at the kitchen I immediately stopped talking. Something was wrong. My mom was sitting in a chair, still holding her kitchen knife, resting her elbows on her knees, her head slumped down.

"Sachiko?" My dad said, his voice worried. She looked up and I instantly moved closer to my dad in fear. Her eyes were different then they had ever been before. They had gone dark and cold, yet burned with an intense fury focused on me. Dad moved me behind his back, his body taking a defensive stance.

"Sachiko? Are you okay?" I could see her at the time but I heard her stand up, the chair screeching as she pushed it back.

"Glad your home, dear," she replied. Her voice had a bitter tone to it. "I'm great, thanks for asking. I'm fucking great." Her language startled me. I took a step back, and my dad one forward. He had his hands out in front of him and he was hunched over cautiously.

"What's wrong? Tell me what's wrong." My dad pleaded. He was battling between police man mode and husband mode. As her knife hand twitched his own hand twitch towards the spot on him I knew held a gun.

"I just want you to love me," my mom stated like it was the simplest thing in the world. She sounded crazy and spiteful. Dad was shocked, but before he could say anything she suddenly lunged forward and stabbed him in the throat. He instantly crumbled to the floor, and the first of his blood spilled out on to the floor. I backed up against a wall, speechless and unsure what to do. My mom didn't even glance my way as she stood over his body. He was still alive, I could see his eyes flashing wildly around and hear him attempt to speak, but it was coming out as a gurgle.

My mom then went down on her knees as the initial shock of her action wore off. She then let herself go completely to the rage inside of her and began screaming at him and stabbing him over and over. She talked bout me and how it was my fault she had to do this. How it was my fault she didn't get the love she needed. The more violent and angry she became, the less and less I felt anything but fear. I just stood there and watched, to afraid to move, or speak. I was frozen. The only things that moved were my rapidly beating heart and my stomach and it's contents swirled around and convulsed.

She ran out of things to say and started to chant the word "love" over and over, delivering a blow each time. She was covered in blood, and so was I from standing close enough to get the splatter when arteries were cut.

When she finished, gave me her cruel final words, then killed herself, covering me in even more blood, I stayed where I was for countless minutes taking in the whole scene. My dad, my life, was dead at my feet. By my mom's hands, her body partially on top of his and her fall when she died caused her to fall forward. I just stared.

Finally I regained control of my body, stumbled out of the kitchen into the living room and vomited. I was shaking so bad and was lost on what to do. Then an idea came to me. The police! I must contact the police. Call them? I only knew my dad's number at the police station and he was dead now. The phone was in the kitchen anyways, and I knew I would never go in there again. The station, I must go to the station.

Slowly I stumbled to the door. Once outside, and shoeless for I had no thoughts left to spare on shoes, I vomited once more on the steps to the house, and then set out to the station.

It was dark out. A cold, crisp night. No one was out on the streets except me. I knew the way to the station, having walked there with my dad many times. At first I walked, my balance taking time to find itself, and then I began to run. It was several blocks away but I ran the whole way there. The city past by me in a blur, and tears were stinging my eyes. The run was long and quick at the same time. I had slipped a few times due to my red, wet socks, but the thought never occurred to me to take them off. All I could think about was getting to the station.

At last I arrived. I ran up to the main doorway and pushed open the glass doors. Someone was at the main desk but they didn't lift their head until I tried to say something.

My voice was lost to me, so all that came out at first was a whimper. The desk person looked up, then down to meet my height. There was a pause until they stood up in a surprised motion and exclaimed in fear. A blood soaked kid was not a common sight in the lobby.

"Help," I said before I burst out into tears and began sobbing. The person shouted for help and quickly circled the desk to catch me as I swayed, my legs giving out to the ordeal.

As I was sobbing people gathered. There was curses as they took in my appearance.

"Are you hurt?" One asked. I shook my head.

"What's your name?"

"Yagami, Light" I said between sobs. More swears followed.

They coaxed a few more things out of me, like where my parents were (at home), what happened (They are dead), and other basic details. But I was too lost in my sorrow at that point to answer anymore. Someone picked me up into their arms and held me. It was Matsuda, the man who was very kind to me and gave me the best tasks when I visited in the past. Things blurred around me again, and somehow I found my self in new clothes and on a couch in the break room.

I cried until I couldn't cry anymore, and then fell asleep out of exhaustion and mental drain.

My world changed forever that day.

I have never been the same.

Thanks for reading! Please review. Not good at author notes, so bear with me. Ha ha… bear.