"The silence that guards the tomb does not reveal God's secret in the obscurity of the coffin, and the rustling of the branches whose roots suck the body's elements do not tell the mysteries of the grave, by the agonized sighs of my heart announce to the living the drama which love, beauty, and death have performed."
- Kahlil Gibran
Fallen
Los Angele 21st September, 2012. 7:31pm
She sat alone in the darkness, letting the obscurity overcome her, to welcome to the end. Her silky raven hair is damp with sweat, and the once perfect hair looks dull and untidy in the dark. Her delicate hands shake as she grab a photo frame into a deep embrace, then let the frame drop to the floor; glass piercing the frozen smile of an attractive young man, holding tightly a woman in his arms. Her. Her hair weakly held together by a golden ribbon, a few strands of hair fell artistically against her full rosey cheeks, gently touching her slender neck. But more importantly, her smile, her non replaceable smile. All gone. The photo was only taken a year ago, yet so much changed. She stared down blankly at the shattered frame, her overgrown, unkempt and greasy hair cling to her sunken cheeks. "You look like you are on drugs." One of her old friend told her, a few days ago, looking concerned and worried. That was gone too. She added mentally, Thanks to a certain maniac with godly ego. Glancing at the empty sleeping pill bottles covering a portion of the bed, she looked away, unconcerned.
Slowly and weakly, she lifted her frail body off the stiff bed, ignoring the ominous creak, she walk towards the toilet without a backward glance.
-
She let the scorching water pour over her sensitive body, her every cell scream in protest as the heat burn into her scalp, leaving red marks branded onto her body. "Why? Why am I so cold?" She murmured, questioning almost inaudible in the clattering of the water surrounding her.
The grumble of the water pump slowly silent as she step out of the misty bathroom, her thin body covered by a thin towel. She shivered as a cold of the room got to her, cooling her down rapidly. It was winter after all. Or is it because of the lack of a certain someone's presence? Tossing the dirty clothes onto the mess building up on the unwashed floor, she pushed the heavy curtain aside and let the soft evening light flow into the room. But she knew, the soft light cannot penetrate through the coldness in her, it cannot light up the darkness that covered her insides, completely. Because she knew, she knew what she has done.
She killed him.
She couldn't shake that sinking feeling in her stomach. She couldn't forget his presence, not that she has a reason to do so, but this is so hard, so hard for her to go through. She told herself time and time over again that it wasn't her fault, so she should god damn stop blaming herself, but every time she set foot in this room, their room, the pass memory flooded her. And her body is so used to his presence when he's in this house; every little detail reminded her of him.
His smile, his touch, everything about him.
Vain and proud, like his father; gentle and caring like her mother; and stubborn, like her.
He was everything she wanted.
And she lost him.
Forever.
She knew that partly the reason that she loves him so much is because of his uncanny likeness with her family, a family that she has lost. She thought she lost everything around her, and then he comes along. But now, even that little corner that was untouched in her heart when she lost her family has broken down, like any other pathetic emotion that she held. She closed her eyes, giving up on blocking the feeling, and let his scent enter her. He died a week ago, only a week, but his smell won't linger here for so long, he… moved on. She told herself this continuously over the pass few days, but another part of her brain screamed "No! He is still there! Can't you feel it? This place is full of him! It smelt of him, for Christ sake!" She would try to stop that voice, but inside she knew that she enjoyed it, the assurance that he is still there, with her.
Her thoughts were stopped by the slow clatter of hail, along with an occasional flash of thunder. The hail hit the window in a regular rhyme, slowly filling all her senses. She loved the sound, the white noise that fills her body, stopping her thinking. Silence, but not empty. Then why am I feeling so empty? She asked herself again, unable to comprehend the feeling. Why does it felt like a part of her heart is torn out, leaving an empty space that cannot recover, and will keep on bleeding, until she dies?
"Beep. You have got three messages. Message one, 7: 49 pm." The mechanic female voice spoke clearly on the recorder. "Elle! Where on earth are you? Are you at the stupid… anti Kira thing again? What the fuck do you think you are doing? You re not just looking after yourself now, think about me, Elle, and our unborn baby, then about yourself. I really care about you, babe, so please… look after yourself… Uhm, this is Kevin here, by the way, if you didn't realise… phone me, I love you." He voice turned from fierce to gentle, his softly accented English bought tears to her eyes. He learned English for her, knowing how hurtful it is for her to hear Japanese again, her mother tongue. She hasn't heard it again after her parent died. (And as for her father, he died from a 'mysterious heart attack.") She moved her hands to her stomach. Yep, gone too. She almost fainted after she heard of his death, and after a rush to contact his family, after many tears, screams, and cries, she did. When she wakes up, the tiny pulse of life in her womb is gone. Her only connection to him.
"Message two, 7:58pm." The mechanic voice returned. "Babe, where are you? I'm here at the protest walk. If you are planning to risk your life, I'll do it with you." – a grunt – "Fuck, shit, fuck, hold on, babe, I'll call you back." His voice turned urgent towards the end. "Message three. 8:00. They are all dying. Every one of them, people are still dropping. It'll…it'll be me soon. I just want to say… I lo–" The message ended in a strangled cry. He left the last message in Japanese, apparently he have too little time to translate what he wanted to say in his head. She never said bye. She wasn't at the protest, she was ill at home, hearing the message yet too proud to reply. She even snorted and laughed when she heard him say "Kira" hesitantly. "Elle, if you are doing this, why don't you just have an abortion, at leas I don't have to worry about two lives at once." He hissed in angry Japanese, just a few days before his death. She told him he's an asshole with no guts. The last word she said to him. Now, she regrets. She thought she can punish herself enough by recording the messages, making sure she never, never forget, never become numb of the feeling – never forget that it's her that killed him. She knew that if he was there, he would point at her and call her stupid, then hold her tight in his arms. If only he was still alive. She broke into a smile as the image form in her mind. And the hard cold reality returns to full blow when the image faded. She walked over to the recorder, and began the hit its dials to get the timer to repeat automatically again at tomorrow at 8 o'clock. The time of his death.
"All message deleted." The mechanic voice rang loud in the silent room. She grabbed the recorder, eyeing it with surprise, and began to fiddle with the dials. "You have no saved message." Ignoring the monotonous message, she shake the recorder desperately, hoping that the messages will return, and after realising that it won't, she threw the recorder against the wall, where it smashed and dropped to the ground, shattered into pieces. She covered her face in her hands and back away into the wall.
"No…" She gasped, sliding onto the floor, and hug her knee deep into herself. "How can I live…without you…" She choked out between sobs. She let herself cry, releasing that damp horrible feeling that she kept in her chest, trying to let go of, but too scared to. The room dimmed as the night fall, the room was momentarily filled with the sound of her hollow sobs, and the sounds of the rushing traffic outside her window. The street outside was buzzing with activities, the workers rushing to go home. A home that she gave away. Her tears stopped abruptly, and she stood up with the support of the table beside her. She swayed dangerously as she crossed the dark room, narrowly missed walking on the pieces of the recorder. She grabbed a bottle of whiskey from her alcohol cupboard. She sank into a sofa beside it, and began to drink. The amber liquid burn her throat but she didn't care, she can feel the hotness bubble down her stomach smoothly, appreciating the hotness warming the coldness that was suffocating her. She let out a giggle then downed half the bottle at once. She let herself fall into the pit of blissful obliviation.
-
When she woke up, the room was in complete darkness, she felt the pounding in her head as she struggle to stand with her head still groggily from the strong alcohol, her legs buckle beneath her and she fell, face down, onto the floor. Painfully picking herself up, she peek at the clock. 3:49am. The street outside is completely silent. She glanced out the window and as expected, it was just plain dark. She looked away, and quickly looked back as she caught movement at the corner of her eyes. Seeing nothing, she looked away again, rubbing her neck that was painful due to the fast turn. Just the alcohol doing its job. She began to move away, but pausing as she finally noticed the pain shooting up her leg. Nothing compare to the pain of my heart. She mused as she looked down. Her ankle was covered in blood, but a huge cut was clearly visible where the crimson was deepest and wettest. Must be the recorder. She shrugged, looking indifferent as she advance to the kitchen, with her head filled with only one intention.
-
She sat on the chair before her computer desk. The harsh light shined on her unhealthy, dull face. Her hair pulled back to a tight ponytail. She study the letter laying on the desk, she caressed the smooth sheet, am almost cruel smile playing around her bare, but still delicate lips. "Let my death be a final protest against Kira. And a warning to those mindless Kira supporters." She spoke quietly to herself, as if promising herself something. She picks up the thin knife beside the letter. The light reflected from the sliver of the blade hit her eyes, she turned away, slightly overwhelmed by the brilliant light. She closed her eyes again, the broken photo appearing yet again, his frozen smile suspended in time. He'll never come back. Her smile faded in a grimace. She refrain from shutting her eyes again, resisting the image of his face if he knew what she's after, But she could already hear his voice, barely a whisper, brushing against her ears.
Why Elle, why are you doing this to yourself?
Oh Kevin…
Elle, you meant so much to me! Please don't do it!
But I… I missed you, Kevin, I wanted to be with you, I need your touch, your anything…
Elle… I lo–
NO!
She blinked as tears fall on her cheeks uncontrollably. Losing him once was tough; she didn't need a constant reminder of him…although she cherished this connection, appreciating his voice constantly playing by her ears. It's been like that for a week, after she threw her anti-depressant away upon realising his image and voice fade on the impact of the medicine. She hate, despised the feeling when she slept soundly in her comfortable bed and forgetting about the guilt that swallow her whole when she wake up again. She concentrate at the blade again, longing to release the warmth of her body, to be the same temperature as him, to be close to him… and more importantly, to release the throbbing pain in her chest, the strong pumping heart that constantly telling her that she is still alive. She's been living under the satisfaction of her heart pumping weaker and weak as her originally toned body began to waste away, leaving the skin barely covering the bones. But she realise this is not enough. She despised the feeling of the blood in her veins flowing around her body keeping her alive. The very thing that she was so wary of. His blood.
She had inherited a bone condition that is later confirmed as cancer and it was him that donated his bone marrow to her, after finding out his blood type is same as her blood type. Now she's still alive, under his magic, and he's gone, under her curse. It should be the other way around! She yelled internally. "His life ended and yours is still going, live it to the full, for him!" Her mother told her this on her father's funeral, but days after she suicided, and she felt the same. She didn't feel like she deserve to be living, even on his behalf; she don't feel like living using his blood, feeling as if she's leeching his life away from him. She let her thought concentrate on his smile again then bought the blade closer to her wrist. She is scared, sure, after all she is only human, a mortal that are scared to lack knowledge, hence, in darkness, human are frightened because they can't see, similarly, human are frightened of death, because what happened after is unknown. And she, as an intelligent individual, hated the idea of not knowing something; it sends an annoyed and slightly scared impulse to her brain, but all the same, it was nothing – nothing when compared to the pain she felt when she lost him.
"What will happen to me, after death, will I see you again, Kevin?" She murmured, letting all her guards down, her sharp features, softens as she relax. Then her muscle tense again as she place the blade on her wrist, and begin to apply pressure; a thin cut appear as she paused, shaking, then closed her eyes again. As if giving up the world around her, she pushed down with determination.
"Nothingness." A sinister voice spoke not far behind her, following by a few crackles that didn't sound human at all. She jumped and dropped the knife, and she almost screamed when she saw the creature behind her through a mirror on the desk.
"Who…who are you?" She spluttered, turning towards the creature, taking in its black gothic look and the inhumane bone feature.
"Shinigami Ryuk." He replied, before reaching to a fruit basket beside the window still – which he was 'attached' to – and let out a disappointed groan when he saw the mould covering the apple before flinging the demented apple away from him. "Yuuuck." He yelled uncharacteristically, and sent a reproachful look at the offending fruit before looking at the shivering woman in front of her with a serious look.
"Shiniga– God of death?" She looked up into the crimson that was his eyes. "Did you…come to take me? Is it my time?" She asked, a glint of hope glittering in her eyes.
"Heh, human imaginations never cease to amuse me. Haven't you heard me? I said 'nothingness'" He held his stomach and laughed in an exaggerated manner.
"Nothingness?" She stared at the death god, not understanding, or refusing to accept.
"Answer to your question, what happens after death, nothingness, mu, whatever you wanna call it." He chuckled again as the woman sink deeper into her chair, looking exhausted and in pain.
"I thought this is what you expected, lady, holding that knife as if the world failed you." He said, suddenly serious as he placed a pointed look at the discarded knife on the floor, stained with her blood.
"I guess so." She followed his glance, returning to her coldness once the initial shock has faded. She reached down and pick up the knife with ease and place it on her wrist again.
"Oi, no need to get emotional, as much as I want to witness someone suicide, I can't lose my potential L for dear Raito!" The death god flung up his arm and moved forward, making the woman flinched with the creature's closeness.
"What do you want, death god?" She remained focused on the knife, working to build up her courage again.
"Don't you want to kill the 'god' of the world, Elle?" Ryuk smirked as he saw the woman shiver and the knife moved away from her wrist for a few inches. He loved seeing emotions and reaction leaking through the tough mask that these so called emotionless people wear. He took his notebook and held it within her reach, just hovering a couple centimetres away from her hands. "This notebook, Elle, is a Death note. Whenever a name is written onto it, the person dies." He looked at the woman, satisfy that she abandon the knife and glare at the notebook.
"Kira got one too." He added for effect, and laughed happily as it gained another reaction from the woman.
"If I use it, I'll be the same as Kira." She finally spoke, looking away. Face drained of the previous excitement. Mentally struggling between the two emotions: The hate for Kira and his tool, and the fear of how much this power will change, and corrupt a person.
"Yeah, but you'll kill him." He relied smugly.
"Kevin won't want me to use such thing." She shuddered at the slip of his name, her argument immediately weakening.
"And he didn't want to die." He countered her argument easily, successfully making her reconsider. "Elle, I've been watching you, you are the perfect candidate to fight against Kira. Or…" He paused, staring into the woman's eyes. "Replace him."
The woman crutched the knife harder, feeling the hard handle sinking into her palm.
"I've decided."
-
A maniacal laughter filled the air as black wings expand and the slender body of the death god flied out of the window. "What a woman, what a woman…" He said, smiling to himself as he did a cartwheel in the air, looking delighted. He savoured the moment. The determination in her eyes. Beautiful. He thought, absolutely work of art.
Phew, that was long for me. This fanfic took me 2 weeks (to be honest, 5 nights, but it did, however, spread across 2 weeks) to write up in pen and paper, then almost 4 hours to type up. I've used 8 A4 sheet as my initial draft for this. The longest one short I've ever done. So tiring for the mere 3000 words. As for the ending, I'm into "it's for the reader to interpret" thing again, apologies if you don't like it. But if you are for Light. Elle can just suicide for your pleasure, But for me, I prefer someone killed Light. I typed this quick so there ought to be some typos, just send me a message or a review and I'll change it, as long as it's within 50 days before it don't let me change it. Lol, well thanks for reading this fanfic.
EDIT: I've looked back and corrected some typing mistakes, but thanks to Mia for being an annoying beep.
Review appreciated.