I do not own the characters or Death Note.

SMACK

"P-please stop..."

SMACK

"Please! It h-hurts!"

SMACK

That last punch sent me flying towards the ground, blood spilling from my mouth and dripping down my chin. Salty tears flooded from my eyes and splashed onto the dirty floor. I looked up through half closed eyes at the shadow above me. His orbs glowed with anger and hate, causing me to tremble with more fear than I thought possible. I started to choke on blood and saliva, my stomach muscles screamed in agony, making me wrap my arms around my bruised abdomen.

I then felt his filthy hands on my face, forcing me to look him in the eye. I winced as his grip on my jaw tightened.

"Look at you. You're disgusting, you little whore." His voice was rough and penetrated through my aching skull.

I don't know why he treats me like this, my own flesh and blood.

Keeping one hand on my face, he pulled me up so I was standing against his chest, and whispered in my ear, "You don't deserve to breath."

I shuddered as his hot breath hit my cheek causing me to screw my eyes shut to keep the tears from spilling down my face.

Then he raised his hand and smacked me around the face, causing me to stumble across the pavement until I fell once again into the dirt.

"That's where you belong, in the gutter. And don't you ever think of coming back, Miheal."

And with that, my own father turned and walked away, leaving me alone and bleeding in this dark alley way, shaking as I finally allowed the tears to flow.

That was the day I learnt to never trust anyone.

I spent a few days wandering through the streets, sleeping on the curb. Dried blood clung to my shoulder length, blonde hair. My chocolate brown eyes were empty of any life that might have remained in me. Yeah, people would stare but no one ever spoke to me, never offered to help an injured child. It made me sick.

I was only 13 when my dad abandoned me. Only recently had I discovered that he killed my mother and that it was my fault. He never wanted me, he said I was a waste of space, a disappointment.

Not once after the incident did a tear spill down my cheek. I can never cry, crying is a sign of weakness.

The swelling on my cheek bones had started to go down, but it was still incredibly painful. Even sitting here, on the corner of the road with the cold wind stabbing at the bruise. But I was past pain.

I had never been to this part of town before, but I couldn't really care about where I was. It was the same as the other places I had passed through: cobbled roads, orange brick houses, uncared for lawns and over grown bushes. The only difference was the large iron gates 20 yards down the road.
Next to the gate was a rusty silver plaque that read "Wammy's Orphanage: Home For Children."

There was a child standing at the gate, his thin hands wrapped around the bars, his pale face held no emotion.

He coughed once, obviously trying to get my attention but I continued to stare at the wall in front of me.

He coughed again, louder this time. Doesn't he take the hint?

Sighing, I turned to look at him, wincing slightly as I strained my damaged muscles.

The first thing I noticed where his ridiculous orange goggles. Who wears something like that? Him obviously. I continued to study him. He had strawberry red hair that framed a surprisingly attractive face. Attractive? The blow to my head must have damaged my thought process. Behind the goggles were grass green eyes that shone in the morning light. He had a few freckles dotted across the bridge of his nose that made his pale skin stand out. He wore a black and white striped shirt that seemed a size or two too big. His light red lips curved upwards into a crooked smile when he saw me looking his way. He looked about my age, maybe a year younger.

I continued to stare for a few more minutes, not really knowing what to do or what he wanted.
He cleared his throat nervously, blushing slightly before he spoke.

"Um. Do you want to come in?"

His voice was quiet and he rubbed the back of his head with a gloved hand.

I sat on the pavement for another minute before slowly pushing myself up. My face screwed up as pain shot up my arm, but I didn't let that bother me.

When I got to my feel, I gradually started walking, well, more like limping towards the dusty gate. But before I reached the smiling boy, he ran away from me, and disappeared behind the large oak door of the ancient building. The hope drained from my body, being replaced with disappointment and I turned to walk away. But suddenly, there was a strained creek as the gate opened and the boy came bounding down the path towards me. He came right up to me, flashed a toothy grin and grabbed my arm. I squeaked at the sudden pressure and he looked at me apologetically. His grip loosened as he started to lead me towards the huge structure.

"Oh, by the way, my name's Matt, what's yours?" he asked me, still smiling. Is that all he does?

Not knowing what to say, I simply answered with "Mello."