I stare down at the crumpled paper in my hand. A test. I had scored a 97% and Near had scored two points higher. Two points higher. I'm always so close. But I'm never enough. I'll never even be equal to the flawless little sheep boy. What is the point of even trying?

Usually when I'm angry I explode. I'm fire. I'm fury. Not today. Today I am stony, cold, ice. Yes. It's time. Time I fulfilled the promise to myself.

I walk slowly over to the bathroom and lock the door; Matt doesn't notice he's too busy playing his stupid DS.

I've had it hidden in one of the sink drawers for a week because I knew it was coming. At first didn't want to think like that and I'll admit I was scared. But now I accept that I am not needed on this earth. At least, not when #1s around. I open the drawer the stolen knife is hidden in and slowly press the blade to my cheek and feel its cool touch. There is no need to rush. I reach in the drawer again and take out a piece of paper and a pen. I am going to write a note so they will remember me. They will remember my shrill cries ringing through every corridor the curses I yelled after every time Near beat me will echo in everybody's heads until they leave this wretched orphanage.

I set the letter aside and put the cap back on the pen, now for the more difficult part...I lay my left wrist flat on the counter. I take the knife in my right had and drag it vertically into my skin. Vertical is more dangerous. I grit my teeth at the pain; it's enough to make me wince but not scream. It's not deep enough so I cut again and again, loving and hating the pain. My crimson blood is making a mess against the pure white countertop. I giggle softly and tears form in my eyes and drip into the pool of blood. I start cutting my other wrist now; it's more difficult because I'm dizzy and also right-handed. I'm crying and laughing harder, I'm certain this is the root of true insanity.

When you're obsessed with something and you can't get it, and there's no way for you to get it and you can never get it no matter how hard you try and you feel like your suffocating...this is the only option.

I think I've done it. Everything is sort of fading to a grey...oh crap. I haven't even thought of how Matt will feel after this...but it's too late to do anything now...I stumbled to the ground, covered in my own blood and let the reaper take my soul...

"Mello?" "MELLO!" Matt called through the bathroom door

No reply

"C'mon man, how long do you need to take a shit?"

No answer

"Mello...your freaking me out!"

Matt Frowned. Maybe Mello was just TRYING to freak him out so he could tease him after...No. Mail's conscience told him something just wasn't right. He grabbed the desk lamp and whacked the doorknob with it. When it broke, the redhead pushed open the door and stepped into the bathroom...

Matt scanned the surroundings, blinked rapidly and removed his goggles. Blood all over the sink. Knife on the counter. Mello lying on the floor, not moving.

Matt stifled a scream. Then he saw the note lying on the floor and bent to pick it up.

To: Everybody (especially you, Near!)

I hate life. I hate everything. I know nobody cares because at Whammy's house ever fucking kid is just an object. Nobody needs me. Not when you all have fucking 1# Near! I can never do anything as good as he can, but hey I knew this was coming I knew sooner or later I would go insane and do this. I'm stupid compared to Near, and I'm inferior and none the assholes here even cared if I wanted to be a detective. And I guess I will be remembered as "that anger issue kid that everybody was afraid of and Near always got beaten up by and couldn't handle his emotional problems without hurting someone." Because that's who I am to you. And now, that's who I am to me.

Sincerely: #2