Chapter 2…. is up! Whoop! ^-^!

Well…I'll just get to the story…

Death floated through unconsciousness, wincing as memories replayed, over and over, burning and branding themselves into her heart, the memories feeling no pity to the scars that already stained it. She whimpered again, wishing that she could wake up and then never sleep, blink, or even breath again, knowing that whenever she'd close her eyes, her life would dance for her, mocking her once more.

I wake up…It's August 20,2002 and I know something is wrong when I don't hear Beyond's laughter. Death cringed as she found herself narrating.

I walk up the stairs, to his room, and I find it empty.

The sinking feeling in my stomach won't leave and I decide not to eat anything.

That's a good thing.

But it's when the phone call comes do I realize how good my decision was. I answer and in five seconds flat, my stomach is flip-flopping as it plummets to my feet.

The caller is a Naomi Misora, the same FBI agent who BB claimed wouldn't solve the case.

I guess now that B was wrong.

It's now 7:00 p.m. as I'm instructed to wait at a bus stop on L.A.'s main street. I do so, feeling myself pale as a police car pulls up and I'm ushered in.

We race to the hospital, no one giving me straight answers as we do.

I'm scared.

We get to the hospital, and my police escort now includes several uniformed FBI agents, all leading me to a certain hospital room: room 404.

I'm about ready to pee myself and my nerves are on fire. Scorching, scarring fire.

Almost like the fire that created a singed guardian, a singed-and failed- Beyond, who now lays in a pitiful state of life on the bed.

It's when I see him in that pathetic way does everything starts to fall completely apart.

I hate myself as I gape at him and his scorched skin. I hate how the burns have left his skin red and charred, wishing that it was only me again to have scars of fire dancing across my back and arms.

I thank God quietly to see that he's asleep and maybe unable to feel the pain that my heart is feeling now.

Then Naomi calls me over from the corner she had been watching from, the light glinting off of her leather jacket.

I then tell her my story, wishing all the while to pull the trigger on my pathetic, pitiful excuse for a life.

Mello tossed and turned on the floor, grimacing as he tried to fall asleep, burying his head under his pillow. Man, he thought, why can't she sleep on the floor?

He nodded to himself, making up his mind as he sat up, reaching over and shaking Death gently, muttering, "Wake up, Death-you sleep on the floor. It's my bed anyways!"

Death wriggled away, her features becoming marred with fear, much to Mello's surprise. "D-don't hit me, daddy…I-I didn't do a-anything b-bad! I-I'm s-sorry…I-I didn't m-mean to drop the dish, Mommy…I didn't!" Death gasped subconsciously, trying to get away from Mello as he stood and grabbed her shoulders, sitting her up.

"Don't! Don't! Nooo! Stop! Please! Please! PLEASE! I wasn't bad! I-I'm a good girl!" Death now screamed, clutching onto Mello and yet, she thrashed about, trying to get away.

"Death! Death! Death! Death! WAKE UP!" Mello shouted at her, shaking.

"DON'T CALL ME EMILY!" Death screamed back, Mello's instant response being, "HUH!"

Death's eyes snapped open, her breathing horse and in gasps, her forehead drenched in sweat.

"M-mello?" She asked shakily, nodding as she fell forward into him in tears, holding on tight, as if she'd be ripped away.

Mello's face reddened, but he recovered, feeling her forehead. "You still have a fever." He reported. "I still have nightmares…" She replied, tears seeping into Mello's shirt, much to his exasperation.

He pushed it away, his curiosity taking over as he asked, "Your name…is Emily?" He waited for a moment as she was silent before she whispered, "It means…Oh…never mind…It doesn't matter…It's not my name anymore, anyways…"

Mello shrugged, asking instead, "Your parents…were they abusive? That's what your nightmare seemed to be about…"

"You mean, my FOSTER parents…and my nightmare was about my whole life, thank you." She retorted, getting up, despite her trembling and peeled off her black turtleneck in a nonchalant manner, rolling her eyes at Mello's shocked expression when it was revealed that she was wearing a black tank top underneath.

"Is that where you got all those scars?" Mello asked, observing the sliver of moon in the window, the one thing that marked midnight. Death turned away, softly cursing as she smacked her hand on the dresser, before she turned back to Mello, a soft glare piercing from her eyes.

"It's rude to point that out, Mello."

"And it's rude to not to tell your host about yourself BEFORE you take their bed."

"I barely know you!"

"Likewise."

Death sighed in defeat, sitting next to Mello and showing him the scars that stained her arms, pointing at certain marks, declaring, "These ones are from them. I did the others by myself. They used glass shards instead of knives though…sometimes my foster mom used her nails."

Mello grimaced before glancing at Death's neck as she pulled her hair into a ponytail, the red highlights catching the light. "They burned you…"

Death shrugged and got up, laying down on the floor on her stomach, "Doesn't matter…I just got too close…"

"Liar…you're lying through your teeth." Mello argued back, reaching down and lifting up enough of her shirt to see the scars that fire and cigarettes had left. Death, rolled over and smacked Mello's hand, glaring, mumbling, "So what? You don't give a rip!"

"Why shouldn't I, Emily?" Mello watched Death tremble and wince.

"You just shouldn't-Goodnight."

Mello shrugged and climbed up on his bed, burying his head under his pillow, rolling his eyes.

Damn, all this for his bed back.

This didn't turn out exactly the way I planned.