Warning: Very Dark. Trigger warning.

Hi. I kind of just wrote this in a spur of the moment kind of thing. It doesn't make sense but I did it out of exploration. Like it or hate it – It was just a fling. I just wanted to write. I haven't in such a long time. I was hoping this would get me out of my writer's block so I can finally finish Blinded Justice.

Let me know what you think.

Again Very Dark. I suppose. I feel like it is. lol

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.

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Chapter 1: To Paint a Picture

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While the situation was almost laughable, Misa found herself unable to shake off the bitter reality that her tormentor was actually him of all people.

Misa swallowed roughly as her eyes scanned over his apparent posture, and gnawed over the fact that no one else could possibly sit like that.

Only him.

Yet instead of lashing out at her captor, she sat across from him, eyes locked on his lips as they parted ever so often. Ears ever vigilant to capture the sound of a single heavy breath. One that absolutely terrified her.

However to her surprise he actually appeared genuinely calm and merely smiled at her faltering recognition.

"Let's play a game, Amane-san." He told her gently as if their past encounters meant nothing.

It seemed to him that all those agonizing occasions had been swept under the carpet. Misa silently wondered how she had never been able to pin the voice as his until now.

Perhaps maybe because she was so dismayed that her brain just couldn't make the correlation at the time.

It was all so strange.

In fact normally this sort of scenario didn't faze her...After all she was usually blindfolded during their clashes.

However that all seemed to be a thing of the past especially since her handcuffs were now undone and eyes were openly exploring the colors of the world once again.

It was pleasantly strange.

Almost like she was alive again.

Misa parted her lips for a moment but nothing came, anxiety running through her mind at his would be reaction. Misa closed her lips tight and looked at him once more.

She would wait for him to explain.

She simply must. "Who am I to you?" He prodded with a smirk while she could only draw in a sharp breath.

Her captor's dark pools flickering with lively amusement as she did a double take. By now Misa could feel her brain hammering against her head and she couldn't recall if it was from the lack of sleep or food for the matter.

Misa really needed to access her sanity.

This must be a dream.

There was just no way.

Inwardly she screamed, but somehow she manged to words out of her. It was hoarse, strangled, but it was none the less there for him to take in and pry.

"Ryuzaki."

As soon as it rolled off her tongue, she heard a heavy breathe and Misa froze like a deer in headlights before finally jumping at the loud crack the followed. Ryuzaki had suddenly jolted out of his chair and flung the table across. It bounced against the wall before finally laying still.

"Wrong answer." He grit out dangerously as she stared up at his fuming face with widened eyes.

By now Misa knew her hands were shaking, but she couldn't get a grip on them. She couldn't stop. The panic just swept through her like a wildfire as all those dark memories resurfaced.

After all this time, it had been him.

After all this time...

It was most certainly laughable.

Oh how she wanted to paint the picture before but now she just couldn't. Especially after their previous relationship. A friend couldn't possibly be someone like her tormentor.

The very tormentor who barged into her room at night – nearly giving her a heart attack as his nails dug dangerously into her scalp. L just couldn't have been that person who ripped her from her bedside and dragged her across the floor like a rag-doll.

Ryuzaki never came across as the type of person that was ruthless. He wouldn't have placed a single hand on her like captor did. Especially when she pleaded and begged with sobs for him to stop. Misa hadn't ever seen Ryuzaki as a monster. He was always calm not like this person before her. "This isn't real." She managed as the identical twin laughed at her claim.

Misa did not wince when "L" raised his his right hand and slapped her across the face. The force of the blow causing her to hit the floor with a thud. Yet Misa would not yield. In fact she did not dare to look up at her perpetrator from her crumbled position on the floor.

Misa had gotten a bit smarter when it came to him. She had managed to pick up some survival techniques during their countless bouts.

In fact Misa had learned that when this person came to her breathing so heavily – that one wrong move could send her to her death bed. Misa knew she had crossed a line and did not dare to push forward.

Thankfully L drew away from her. His hands running through his raven locks as he went to go fetch the table that was thrown with an uneasy sigh.

"Suddenly so uncooperative."

The model almost grunted at his remark. She had always been fighting against him. This man just never noticed with his bursts of rage. Besides if she hadn't been – wouldn't she be dead?

No Misa would not allow that. She would not allow this good for nothing man to take her life away. She would fight. Even if the process required ever ounce of her state of being to be demolished. Misa would escape.

She already was.

For each night Misa crawled away from the sticky substance off the ground she knew could only be her blood. She knew that with the silence, that she was safe. It was only when she heard the footsteps and breathing that she was in for another round. Misa quickly dismissed it. Her brain reeling over how she saw a shadow of herself with shaky hands grasp the edge of the bed and rise with a bubbly laugh. She was still alive.

"Honestly you're a bore Amane-san." He told her, as she felt him hovering over her. Misa still did not look at him, even though his foot was pressed against the side of her face, pushing her further into the ground. "I would expect better from L's girlfriend."

It was then that something inside her snapped.

She had never been "L's girlfriend."

It irked to hear such a fabrication, and it quiet frankly insulted her. Perhaps even disgusted her as she felt herself wanting to vomit at the idea that L and she were a possible thing.

"In your sick perverted dreams maybe, Ryu-" Misa paused. Vision cutting in half as her lip trembled. She couldn't bare to finish as her eyes widened into horror.

They were red.

His eyes.

Blood red.

The eyes of a Shinigami. "You are not Ryuzaki." She confirmed feeling relieved that the picture painting could wait. "But-" She drawled, as she took in his entirety. "Why do you have his face?"

Her tormentor laughed at this while placing his foot on her head. Despite her clear glare.

"Don't you mean mine?" He sneered, shoving her face towards the floor. He took a heavy breath before pulling his foot away. Misa swallowed, knowing, but it did not give her solace as his hands drove into her blonde locks.

She couldn't contain the sob that escaped her lips when he threw her to her backside, and got on top of her nearly crushing her with his weight.

This again.

Misa felt her lips thin as she felt the handcuffs being rebounded to her skin, arms, legs, and knew eventually her vision would go too. "Don't look so angry." He commented as he unbuckled his belt, "BB's here for you."

And yet – that only made her feel worse.

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