author's note.xx Unfortunately I was dragged off to the beach (oh joy) with exactly 45 minutes notice…so sorry it's a bit delayed. (My family has a tiny little condo thing in Alabama that can fit 8 people in 900 square feet and randomly decide that I need socialization…) :O Oh, and thank you guys very very much for the reviews, the favorites, the alerts…they make me extraordinarily happy. So happy they make me want to do cartwheels. And no one wants to see that, now do they. ;)
disclaimer.xx No I don't own Death Note, not that you asked.
C H A P T E R – O N E;
All of the white was frightening. So much of the color…the "clean", "pure" color that wasn't a color in the first place, but tricked people into believing it was. In a way, the white symbolized Wammy's—white steals color for itself. Takes even the brightest, most vibrant color, mixes it with every other color like it didn't matter, and what was reflected? White. What color could be pure that stole color and manifested it into something under control, something…pure? But, white didn't show the struggle of the colors, each trying desperately to come out on top to overtake the blinding white…nor did it show the chaos that ensued, the overwhelming effect pushing together things so different and emitting something completely different. The colors that make up white don't matter anymore—everything about the colors cease to exist.
Exactly like Wammy's. I mused. Wammy's smashed a hundred impeccably intelligent children together, ones who were so different, so unique; and caused something entirely different. Keeping all of the little geniuses together caused…a force to be reckoned with. A bloodthirsty, dog-eat-dog force to be reckoned with. Chaos…utter chaos. Every color had at least some sense of itself, some sense of itself even while captured in the white. And the small ability it had to recognize it's former self wanted out. And that caused ambition…
And ambition equals doing whatever it takes to get out on top. Achieve that life of fame and fortune. Get that money. A desire so strange, I thought. So, so strange. I had never experienced that kind of want. Maybe it's because I've been trapped here all my life, left to observe it and try not to become that way. Well, it's worked. I have no ambition. I don't care about anyone or anything. Well…except for gaming, but that's different.
I sighed. I really did want to believe in something…exist for something…but I just couldn't, dammit! I, in some sick and twisted way, wanted to be like the others. Wanted to care so much as to be so violent.
I looked up at my ceiling from my bed. I had been lying on it since I woke up for the first time during the night, at 4am—35 minutes after I had finally coaxed out the long-awaited (and usually non-existent) sleep. The ceiling, as everything else at Wammy's, was white.
I laughed—a poisoned, humorless laugh at the weird irony of everything, and went back to sleep in a fashion much quicker than I had expected to.
-x-
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BE—
I jammed my finger into the alarm clock sitting on my bedside table, ending the obnoxious noise abruptly. The glowing red letters informed me that it was 5:15am.
Time to beat the crowds and be sanitary.
I grunted as I swung my feet out of my bed, wincing slightly at the cold of the tile floor. Which was, indeed, white. Hastily grabbing a change of clothes from the walk-in closet—holding around 10 or so of what it should if a "normal" person inhabited the walls of the room--I walked out of my room. I didn't bother to put on shoes as I stumbled down the long corridor that existed outside of the boy's rooms. At the end was a white door, which, once opened, led up a staircase.
I subconsciously counted the steps as I trotted up, feeling more awake now, and opened the other white door that awaited me on my trek up to the kitchens and showers. Why the hell do they keep the kitchens and showers together on the same floor?
It didn't really bother anybody, though. Well, no one except for me, but that's okay. I just preferred to not have penis near my food. But, to each his own, I guess…
I walked through the kitchens, various smells flooding my nose as the cooks prepared for feeding the hooligans breakfast, and opened yet another white door. I was greeted by a white room.
White, white. White, white. WHITE WHITE WHITE WHITE WHITE! I screamed in my head, nearly having an emotional breakdown right then and there. WHY CAN'T WAMMY'S PAINT THINGS BEIGE?! WHY NOT?! WHY MUST THEY HAVE EVERYTHING IN GOD DAMN WHITE!! I threw a little hissy fit in my mind for a couple minutes until I calmed down. Somewhat.
Somehow, I maintained enough composure to go open my locker and retrieve my ziplock bag of supplies and walk into the actual boy's shower room. The moment of panic past after a brief bit of hyperventilation, thankfully. Not like the last time I had stayed up a bit at night thinking about white and proceeding to come to the showers.
I cringed slightly as I remembered the day that I had lain on the floor for several hours in fetal position with an 'insane' look on my face and biting through my lip,
until I was found by the other boys and had my arm broken due to being stepped on. Well, I have more self-control now. I'm not so fragile anymore, I don't let things affect me that way…much.
I fished out a towel from the large basket containing them and picked the stall I wanted. I hung it up on the bar and got undressed in the showers, discarding my clothes on the bar that held my towel.
I turned on the water, adjusting it with relative ease to the perfect temperature. I let the water fall over me, warming my body and causing angry pink welts to come up on my skin, due to the fact that it was excessively hot. Sighing in relaxation, I let everything that had bothered me previously go down into the drain—along with the filth of living in such a corrupted place.
"Shit." I said as I realized my lack of shampoo. I had left my ziplock by the towel basket. I turned off the water reluctantly, and grabbed my towel—wrapping it around my lower half. Even though I knew no one was going to be awake at this time, I still took the precaution. I really didn't know why, though. Premonition, perhaps? But then I shoved away the thought. That's silly. I told myself firmly. Premonition doesn't exist, because I believe in the fact that people make their own choices, nothing is lain out in front of them at the time of birth, you can be who you want, and such. Therefore, premonition could NOT exist.
But I used the towel anyway as I made my way over to where my ziplock was sitting, snatching it up. I looked both ways, feeling somewhat paranoid.
And then I met the blue eyes of a stranger.
"FUCK!"
another author's note.xx I love you guys. I hope the white-rant thing didn't make sense. Or at least, not that much sense. :X It wasn't meant to make that much sense. Matt is a strange person (in my eyes), is he not? Oh, and if I make a weird grammar mistake, tell me. Or if I spell something wrong, or do anything stupid in general. OH, and Matt IS insane. Being at Wammy's for his entire life and knowing what was happening with the others effected him differently, but he is still insane. Clearing that up. Urm, please review. :D
EDIT of the AUTHOR'S NOTE: I re-read the white-rant thing and I decided that it DID make sense. :D It didn't make sense in my head. XD And Matt isn't insane. He's just acting a tad bit emo. Or so I have decided.
EDIT OF THE EDIT: Actually, on a re-read, he isn't acting emo at all D: I like making characters act emo and then poking them. But anyway, emo isn't the right word, and neither is insane. ...confused, maybe. Maybe not confused. Having..issues? Is a bit mentally unstable.
WAIT! MENTALLY UNSTABLE! THAT IS HOW MATT IS ACTING! :D Yay I can classify him now
