((Hello! Author here. I thought up this idea on the whim and I don't know how far into this I'll get as I have no plot line in mind at the moment, but here you go! A Death Note fanfiction! Fair warning: this story does include child abuse, neglect, torture, rape, and a lot of shitty things. Also bad language. It's no wonder it's rated M, huh? Anyway, you have been warned! Read on if you dare.

The only thing I own is this sad story.))

Running was one of her earliest memories.

Sure, she had faint memories of when her mother would lock her up, referring to her as God's Mistake. She would beat her and lash at her with a whip, shouting about how she would never be loved. She shouted about how she could never be loved.

She had faint memories of when her father would apologise to her, over and over, when he had to leave for work. She remembered she never knew why. Wasn't it normal to be hated by your mother? Wasn't it normal to be locked up and whipped whenever she cursed or spoke back, or said something out of place? It was what she was raised with; it was what she deemed was acceptable - what was expected - in society. But, of course, she never could ask. She was taught to stay quiet unless spoken to, so she never instigated conversation outside of her home. She never spoke up at the dinner table unless her mother would ask about her grades.

Failing was unacceptable, she would be told. Failing meant losing, losing meant shame, and shame meant she had brought her family down. Bringing them down meant she was in trouble.

She hated getting in trouble.

Her mother never wanted a child in the first place, but being the over religious woman she was, she didn't believe in abortion, so when she got pregnant, she simply grumbled her way through nine months of pain and hunger until eventually pushing out a little girl.

Such a beautiful little girl, her father would comment, holding the child in his arms as he held down his tears, a wide grin on his face as the little girl reached out to touch his nose gently. Her mother was almost happy. She was almost excited. She was almost glad she had gotten pregnant with this man in the first place- until she saw her, herself. This beautiful child with onyx black hair flattened against her head, pale skin that glistened from her mother's blood as she had yet to be cleaned fully, her beautiful smile...

Those burning green eyes.

But no, it was not the color of the eyes that had startled the woman. It was the calculating mind behind it. The woman could see it already, the anger, the evil behind her eyes, in her mind.

Those eyes that had looked into the very soul of her mother, giggling as if she thought this all was but a simple game. Her mother had decided then and there that this child was not her own. It was the Devil's child, and she felt sick to her stomach at the thought of her holding this child in her womb for nine months.

She felt sick to her stomach just looking at the small girl.

So she would give her no name. She would feed her only once a day. She would give her only a sip of water to last a few days. Then she would punish her for every wrong she would ever do.

"We must beat the evil out of her," her mother would say. "We must snuff out the evil before it has a chance to begin."

And that was what she had always believed. She was evil. She didn't belong. She was a terrible creature. She shouldn't have been born. She was a burden to everyone around her. She knew all of this.

Her father was an ex-military veteran. He had been honorably discharged as he had hurt both of his legs in action. The little girl never knew a lot about her father's job, what it was like, how he had gotten hurt, who hurt him, for she was taught to keep her thoughts to herself.

"Every time you open your mouth, evil spews from your lips!" Her mother would shout as she whipped her across the back.

"Yes, Mother."

Her father made enough money each month to be able to pay for a private school for his daughter. Her mother never wanted this- "She can't learn, Kelly. She can't learn how to live- she will use it against us"

But that was the one time he didn't listen to her. He hired the tutor, and she was taught the basics.

"She's a very bright young girl!" The tutor, a young, spritely woman had commented, a polite grin on her face. "Your daughter is a fast learner." Her father was proud to hear this. "However, I have but one problem..."

"She claims she doesn't have a name?"

It really was no wonder she ran. She ran from her home at the age of 14, soon after her father's death.

In the middle of the night, when her mother had her sleeping on the floor in the living room, under the kitchen table - evil doesn't deserve to be comfortable - she had awoken at midnight. It was odd, she remembered thinking. She always fell asleep around 12 A.M., and she always woke up at 5 A.M., so why had she waken up so much earlier?

But then she almost froze as she had an idea. Her head had turned, vibrant green eyes latching onto the window in the kitchen. It unlocked from the inside.

So she ran. She ran and she ran until she could run no more, then she continued to run. Her legs ached and burned, her lungs screamed at her to stop- but she couldn't, she wouldn't. If she stopped her mother would catch her, she would catch her and drag her back there, back home. So she ran with everything she had, not even bothering to stop when the gravel road tore through the sensitive skin of her feet, not even when the gravel road suddenly turned into sharp twigs and rough leaves and painful spires in the ground. Not once did she stop, even as she tripped and scraped up her arms and abdomen even further. She did not waste a single second getting to her wobbly feet and running through the forest, not even once stopping to look at the trail of blood she was leaving. The blood that she was losing.

And that was how she ended up unconscious, on the streets, her single white shirt and white shorts that she had gone to bed in ruined and torn, muddy and bloodied beyond recognition. Her clothing almost looked as though they were meant to be red, but had been bleached white in some areas. She lay there, unconscious and in pain.

Unconscious, in pain, but free.

((So tell me how it was! Seriously, I don't think I'll even continue this if I don't get a few reviews telling me about it. This was just on a whim idea, so there's no point in taking it farther if nobody likes it, right? This will be the shortest chapter of the series, if I do continue it. I plan on writing longer chapters- MUCH longer chapters, heheh. So, anyway, R&R, and have a nice day!))