I own nothing, except for Anya/Anira. I do not own Death Note, If I did, L wouldn't have died.
On with the story!
It was cold. I remember that. Snow drifted gently and landed on an already snow covered sidewalk. The orphanage, Wammy's it was called, towered over my eight year old self. Clad in black, I was led to the enterance by Watari, the man who had drivin me here. He opened the door and I was bathed in warmth. My hazel-green eyes widened.
The floor was rich oak and the walls a pale blue. Over in a corner, in an old chair sat a boy. Wild raven hair and steely grey eyes. He was older than I, that I could tell. I looked at this boy, captured in his grey gaze. Watari smiled gently and gave me a nudge, to encourage me to go over to the boy.
I bit my lip and started to walk towards the boy. I reached him and spoke softly, " Hello, I'm Anira." I was told to use an alias, a fake name.
He looked at me with his wide eyes. " I am L.", he stated, as if it were an everyday fact.
Seconds later, another boy walked into the room. He was startlingly similar to the other boy, L. Save for his eyes. Eyes that would haunt me for years. A brown so rich, it was red. Something about his eyes, caused dread to wrap around my heart, and squeeze.
His gaze drifted to me, and he smiled, "Hi! I'm B.", he said. I smiled weakly back.
I stuck my hand out, "Anira." He shook it.
Then he asked, " Why are you dressed so darkly?"
I frowned. "A funeral."
"Who's?"
"My mothers."
So what do you think? Review it please. I want to improve my writing. Anything is helpful.