Authors Note:
A one-shot I thought I'd try considering this is my first attempt at fanfiction in a while and in a new fandom altogether. It is probably a bit senseless and confusing, I was trying to catch a mood I suppose. I probably broke a couple of grammatical rules, but it was somewhat intentional. Anyway enjoy if possible.
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.
Perfection
His dreams had taken a dark form, an endless nightmare from which he could escape only in waking. Always the same bleak surroundings, the garden of ash filled with the pungent stink of rotting wood, giving birth to decay. Shadows reached hungrily for him, ripping into the softness of his flesh and peeling back the skin to find the secret buried there, mindless of the warm blood red sea that watered the earth at his feet. The pain had once existed only in his mind, but with passing time he came to feel the effects of the pain even in his wakeful existence.
His life that was so perfect in it's construction. Each detail carefully considered, each possibility broken down and reassembled to fit. His was a life of such stability and routine that it had become a mind numbing activity. How it had come to be such, Light did not know. It simply had always been that way.
His world was one filled with academic genius, athletic achievements and social popularity. Everything he did was achieved with a single-minded determination that left no room for failure. He simply could not handle failure, not in his own eyes or in the eyes of others.
His parents could not fault him, Light, the ever obedient and bright son. Respectful, polite, smart, handsome Light. He was all that they had expected him to be, if a little distant. He helped Sayu with her homework and Soichiro with police cases. He was home on time and gave his mother little to stress about. Perfect. He was perfect.
Perfection.
The mask that concealed the cracks, the imperfection, the heart that even now strained under the control and tested its bonds for weakness. Weakness that he had never allowed.
But.
Then.
In a guise of innocence, unassuming, natural – dangerous. A little black book, soft and flexible, light and ultimately captivating. Death Note. A foolish little prank, sick, twisted and strangely fascinating. Its discovery was a minor detail, easily woven into the fabric of his life and yet he could not forget it.
It was written in english, it's contents morbid and impersonal. Kill. It wanted him to kill. His heart grew turbulent, hungry, his chest tight. No. His mind was still in control. The book, innocent except by name, a prank, nothing more.
The cracks deepened. His heart strained. His mind bent.
He killed.
The cracks deepened.
The stability of his life weakened, unable to support the structure and collapsed. He was left floundering. Disorientated, fearful and paranoid. Hunted.
The nightmare started. The bleak surroundings, the garden of ash filled with the pungent stink of rotting wood, giving birth to decay. Shadows reaching hungrily for him, ripping into the softness of his flesh and peeling back the skin to find the secret buried there, mindless of the warm blood red sea that watered the earth at his feet. The suffocating loneliness, depression, drowning in sin. A man, hunched and pale, wide eyes boring into his own. Watching, waiting, judging him, accusing.
A guise of innocence, soft smile, gentle face, captivatingly intense eyes – evil. A boy, innocent but by name, a killer drowning in sin.
Kira.
Monster.
Justice.
Perfection.
God
He watched; friend, enemy, L. The dying breath, the knowledge it brought and at last the end.
His heart soared.
Insatiable in it's hunger, ignorant of logic and sense. Caged for too long, rotting and diseased in the shadows, angry and vengeful. It laughed, cold and cruel, wild and foolish. Emotion battled with Logic and won.
His mind broke.
The nightmares continued. Pain crept in, ran through his veins like ice, stabbed his bones with razor sharp blades and drowned his very soul.
Bleak surroundings, the garden of ash filled with the pungent stink of rotting wood, giving birth to decay. Shadows reaching hungrily for him, ripping into the softness of his flesh and peeling back the skin to find the secret buried there, mindless of the warm blood red sea that watered the earth at his feet. The suffocating loneliness, depression, drowning in sin. Alone.
Alone.
…..Alone…..
Eventually even his heart shattered, consumed by fear, taken by death.
Bleak surroundings, the garden of ash filled with the pungent stink of rotting wood, giving birth to decay. An overcast sky, grey and unforgiving. Empty. Alone.
Not Heaven.
Nor Hell.
Alone for eternity.
Imperfect.