I slept in late the next morning, and would have stayed in bed longer than I did, if it hadn't been for Matt pounding on my door, telling me to come down to breakfast. I'd never changed out of the previous day's clothes and hadn't showered the night before either, so I certainly wasn't feeling fantastic. However my rotten mood vanished when I remembered the happenings of the previous night, and what would happen tonight.
I was nervous, excited, and anxious all at once. This wasn't just about surpassing Near; I truly was curious.
I changed my clothes before leaving my room, just outside of which Matt was still waiting for me, leaning against the wall. I wondered suddenly if he was upset about how I'd treated him last night.
"About time you got up," he said, not looking at me as he did. His eyes were otherwise occupied, staring at the screen of a GameBoy "You have a late night?"
"Yeah, soft of," I said. I was relieved that he didn't seem mad. How I treated him was one thing I would really, truly feel guilty about. Sometimes.
Over breakfast, I suddenly began to wonder if I should investigate the room alone…or tell Matt of my plans and take him with me. It had been he who had really gotten me interested in the first place, and encouraged me to try to find out more about it. It didn't seem fair to go without him. Not only that, but he had a tendency to make things better. He wasn't afraid to let someone know when he was impressed, and I seemed to have a tendency to impress him often. The story of having stolen the key, and found out what I did about 259 already, would certainly make him happy to hear.
I had to wait until the meal and morning school lessons were over before we got a moment alone. It was in the library, where we were both sitting to finish the brief amount of after-lessons work we would have to turn in tomorrow. This gave me a good excuse to sit close to him, since we were sharing the same book, and I was therefore able to whisper without looking suspicious. It was fun watching his eyes grow wider with every word I told him.
"Tonight then?" he said, making sure to whisper as well. "That's when you'll go?"
"Probably, if everything works out right. I don't see why it wouldn't, but…" I shrugged. It was always best to prepare for the unexpected.
"Where should I meet you then? What time?"
I hadn't invited him, but I said anyway, "As soon as it's lights out, meet me outside 259."
He nodded, smiling excitedly, and I got to my feet, my work finished. "I'll see you later then." I turned to go, and immediately my whole body tensed. Near was sitting just a little ways away from us, an open book on the floor in front of him. He was focusing on his reading, but just the fact that he was sitting there, right there, so very conveniently close, put me on edge. Had he heard anything? Had he actually been eavesdropping on us?
I walked past him without a word, and though I didn't turn my head my eyes followed him until he disappeared behind me. I was lucky I didn't run into a wall. If he'd heard anything, then how much? Did he know everything now? He'd probably tell Roger and spoil my plans!
I spent the rest of the day waiting. Waiting for lights out, waiting to see if Near was going to tell on me. I watched him carefully throughout the day, looking for any sign, but there didn't seem to be anything unusual. He acted as he always did, but I didn't relax. He had to be planning something.
9:30 pm, and therefore lights out for all the children of the House, drew close. I paced in my room, anxious, waiting. I didn't like to wait for things. There was an ill feeling in my stomach, a desperate want to get things moving, to accomplish this. It had been running through my thoughts all day, and if it was spoiled now…
I sat down on the floor, leaning back against the bed. If Near spoiled this I could well imagine how I'd feel. I always disliked him, but at times I would feel such a vicious hatred towards him it would frighten even me. I wasn't afraid of hurting him for his sake, but my own. It would be one thing if I hit him, or even beat him, but was I capable of killing him? I had imagined it sometimes, what it would be like to do it. I'd imagined strangling him most often, but sometimes-
No. I shook off the thoughts. They made me feel even sicker with worry. If I were to do such a thing, what would happen to me? They would send me to jail certainly. A life sentence? Or a death sentence?
I had to keep such thoughts far from me. If I were to think of such a thing while angry enough, I didn't want to end up doing it. I knew well the dangers of my own temper.
With my mind otherwise occupied, lights out suddenly came quicker than expected. Roger's voice sounded over the intercom, the order for all lights to be turned off in five minutes. I was never sure how exactly they would know if one left the lights on, but if they weren't turned off, you were in for a personal visit from one of the staff to see what you were up to. I certainly knew, because I'd tried it.
I gathered up my flashlight, some candles and matches from under the bed, took the key out from its hiding place in my drawer, turned off the lights, and waited for an additional ten minutes. Just enough time for all the lights to go off, for everyone to be in bed. Only then did I venture out into the hall, shutting the door behind me. I'd used the classic trick of some pillows to give the appearance of someone in my bed – which would work as long as no one looked closely - just in case someone checked in on me. No one ever did, but still. Preparation.
259 was located in a very far corner of the house, down unused corridors and past dozens of empty rooms. I was used to creeping through the House at night, but there was usually some noise, however quiet. The creaking of beds, children talking in their sleep, the soft footsteps of the easily avoidable night watchman. But the farther I got into the deeper reaches of the house, the quieter it got, until it was a bit creepy. Of course there were always the noises of the house itself, but those noises weren't human, they weren't living. I'd been to 259 before, as had almost every child here, but that was during the day. Things were different at night.
It was a relief to reach the room at last, and find Matt there already waiting for me. He jumped up when he saw me coming, rubbing his bare arms. "Kinda cold down here isn't it?" he said, as I reached the door and took the key from my pocket. "Seriously, the rest of the house is not this cold."
"Maybe the heating vents in this part of the house have been closed," I said. "Since it isn't used. Here, shine this on the keyhole." I handed him the flashlight, and he did as I said. The lock was really old, not like those on the other rooms. It was probably one of the few original locks left in this old place. I shoved the key in, and for a moment had a panicky feeling that it wouldn't work, that somehow it was the wrong key – but the key turned, the lock clicked, and I turned the knob.
We were in.
…
The door had been stuck pretty tight, and I had to have Matt's help to shove it open. A cloud of dust seemed to waft out as we opened it, and I had to cover my mouth to keep from coughing. The door creaked frighteningly loud on its hinges, and as we stepped inside the floor turned from cold hard wood to something soft. A rug?
Matt shone the flashlight about the room, giving little glimpses of dirty, cobweb strewn furniture. A bed, a chair, a desk. It was bigger than the other rooms of the house. It even looked as if it had a small bathroom.
"Well," said Matt, giving me a light shove. "Go in."
I glared at him, but stepped into the room a bit further. It was as if no heat had reached this place in ages; it was freezing. That, along with the smell of dust and some other odd scent I couldn't put my finger on, the place felt very dead. It wasn't a good feeling at all. The thick darkness and looming furniture didn't make it feel any better.
I was beginning to frighten myself a bit, and sniffed dismissively. It was just a dusty old room. A room that a boy had died in – not that that meant a thing. I took out the candles and matches. "Shine the light along the walls. There might be some sconces in here."
"Can't we just find a light switch?" said Matt, even as he did as I'd instructed. I rolled my eyes.
"Then they'll know someone is in here. They have ways of knowing when lights are on. Come on Matt, think."
There were indeed sconces along the walls. I dusted them off one by one, lit the candles and put them in place. That helped a bit, but the darkness in here just seemed so wretchedly thick, as if the flames had to struggle to give off light.
"Well this is just fascinating," said Matt sarcastically. "It's a room. A big room, but still a room. I don't know about you, but I was expecting something a little more-"
"No," I said, shaking my head. "Look at the walls."
His mouth dropped open, just as mine had. All over the walls was writing. Messy, scrawled text, child-like letters. Sentences, paragraphs, single words, everywhere. In the corners were piles of crumpled papers, discarded pencils, ancient pens, and little blue bottles of something. Ink perhaps?
"Amazing," said Matt. "He was certainly a writer wasn't he?"
I turned all around, looking about, and caught sight of some particularly large letters above the doorway.
These words are my will.
This room is my testament.
This breath is my last.
The works of my life, the only things of worth I ever created.
Let them stand.
I reached behind me, taking the flashlight from Matt's hand, and shone it at the ceiling above the doorway. I'd thought I had seen something, and I had been right. A dangling rope, its end severed and frayed.
Well that certainly gave me a chill. A had died right here, right in front of the doorway. The first sight anyone entering would see was his body. And the words above the doorway was a request to leave this room, his works, alone. Perhaps Wammy had felt guilty for the child's death, and had therefore honored his last wish, ordering that the room remain untouched. Mystery solved? Perhaps. But all this writing proved there was yet more to be discovered. There was more of a story here. Something deeper.
I walked over to the room I'd suspected to be a bathroom, and found my suspicions to be correct. I set the flashlight on the sink, turned upward to light the room. There was a deep four-legged tub, with a thick ring of rust around its inside. It rather resembled some kind of beast that would like to eat you, and the toilet was much the same. In short, I wasn't liking this place at all. There was more writing in here though. Even the sides of the tub were written upon, in faded blue ink.
"Creepy isn't it?" said Matt, suddenly beside me, making me jump. He giggled a bit to see that, and I punched his arm lightly. I couldn't help that I was on edge. Everything about this place was unwelcoming.
There was a sudden loud creek, followed a click, startling me enough to make me yelp. Damn it. What on earth was I scared of? It was a small comfort that Matt had reacted no differently, and I shook off the sudden grip he had on my arm, turning to shine the light into the previous room.
"Near!" The name grated from my mouth like a curse, and the boy turned to me with wide eyes. He was standing in front of the closed door, reading the words scrawled on its back, curling a short lock of his hair around his finger as he did so. "Why are you here?!"
"Mello said he was coming to this room tonight to investigate," he said. "I wished to see what it was like in here, too."
So he had been eavesdropping! "I didn't invite you!" I snapped furiously. "Get out!" I could feel my hands clenching into fists, and I jabbed a finger at the door demandingly. "Go!"
Was it my imagination, or had he winced slightly when I yelled? He nodded, turning back to the door and turning the knob. Of all the nerve! He dared come here, uninvited, after listening in on a conversation that was none of his business?
"Well what are you waiting for?" I said. He was pulling on the door with a slight frown on his face. After another moment of tugging, he said bluntly, "We're locked in."
I stormed over, shoving him out of the way. I tugged on the door, putting all my strength into one massive jerk. My arms felt as if they were almost pulled from their sockets. The door wasn't stuck, it was really locked. It must have locked automatically when closed, locked from the outside. Damn it!
I turned back to Near, my heart pounding so hard with anger it felt as if it would explode out of my chest. "You idiot!" I practically shrieked. The back of my hand struck him across the face, making him stumble, and almost immediately Matt had my arms pinned to my sides, holding me back.
"Stop Mello! He couldn't have known. It was an accident!"
Matt was stronger than I was. He kept me in place even as I struggled. Near didn't back away; he didn't even look afraid. He just watched me, one hand rubbing where I'd hit him.
"I'm sorry," he said, and my anger flared anew.
"Sorry isn't good enough! Sorry doesn't mean anything! Sorry doesn't open that door!" Matt was panting as he struggled to hold me back, and I went on yelling. "You just had to ruin this for me, just like you ruin everything else! You just watch yourself! You got yourself stuck in here me; there's no way out until someone discovers where we are, and who knows when that'll be. Matt can't keep me away from you for long. You better just stay away from me, or there will have been another death in here by morning!"
At last, a reaction from him. His eyes widened, a flash of fear going through them. It felt amazingly good to see that. I ached to see it again, to see more of it, and I tried more than ever to squirm out of Matt's hold.
"Mello," his voice was rough, a result of the effort he was having to put in to contain me. "Stop it-" I jerked suddenly, tripping him up and causing him to stumble to the side, hitting the wall. Restrained as was, my head got struck pretty hard against the doorframe, and my vision slid out of focus, my whole body going limp.
I suppose I lost awareness for a minute or so, because the next thing I knew I was laying on the bathroom floor, having water splashed on my face. I gasped at the cold, opening my eyes dazedly, and saw Matt kneeling over me.
"Your head okay?" he said, as I sat up slowly. I reached up to my sore forehead and found it was especially tender to touch. I winced.
"Just fine Matt," I said sarcastically. "Thanks for nearly splitting it open."
He frowned. "It was your own fault."
I stood up, still feeling a bit dizzy. I saw Near sitting on the bed in the other room, one leg against his chest and his finger curling in his hair. "We're still locked in?"
"Yeah," said Matt gloomily. "I thought all your yelling would have been heard by someone. But we must be too deep in the house."
Then we really were stuck here. But for how long? How long would it take for someone to realize we were missing? Until morning at least, and when I glanced at my watch I saw it was just after 10: 00 pm. Stuck here all night, or longer, locked in a room with Near. I groaned. I'd lose my mind.
I exited the bathroom, taking a seat in one of the dusty chairs. Near had a pile of papers beside him on the bed, collected from around the room, and was reading through them one by one. Matt hovered close by my side, watching me carefully. He needn't have bothered. I was still too dazed to make any violent movements, at least for now.
"Things were quite different for the children here before us," said Near, not looking up. "It is not surprising that A was driven to suicide."
"It won't be surprising if I'm driven to suicide, stuck here with you all night," I grumbled.
Near glanced at me, a careful, wondering look. "Yes," he said. "I wouldn't be surprised either."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"Only that you and A are rather alike. In some things, the two of you seem to have the same mindset."
Saying he wouldn't be surprised if I killed myself, and honestly meaning it, certainly was insulting. He thought that little of me? He thought I would give up life that easily?
"Isn't there a window in here?" said Matt. Nice timing indeed. He had just managed to interrupt me in the process of thinking up a brilliant come-back. "It's so dusty I can hardly breath."
Now that I actually looked for one, there surprisingly wasn't a single window. As a writer, it seemed A would have liked to have a view outside, as a source of inspiration or something. Yet another oddity.
However, the dust was indeed getting rather bothersome. Since there wasn't a window, I had to assume the dust wasn't made up of much dirt; it was probably mostly ancient spiders' webs. I was going on my second night without a shower, and the dust was just making me feel filthier. It was even getting in my mouth.
"Well, since it seems we're stuck here," I got up from my seat, "I guess we might as well get comfortable. I'm getting a bath."
"Of course that's crucial," said Matt, but I ignored him and shut the bathroom door. This gave me time away from Near, time to clear my head and relax. It was only a bit less dusty in here, probably because there was no cloth for the dust to cling to. I turned on the bath faucet, wondering if it would even work, and it thankfully did. Hot water rushed out, and I had to spend a bit of time searching about for a plug. I finally found it, laying beneath the tub.
As I stripped off my clothes I began to read the writing scrawled on the tub's side. It was in pretty neat lines, going all the way around in a spiral form. But the sentences didn't fit together. It was as if each one was a different thought, just thrown together. One of them even mentioned L, but that subject, like every other mentioned, seemed to be quickly abandoned.
L is the goal that drives me, the thing I must obtain.
I continued to read as the tub filled, squatting down to get a better look. Were these sentences really so carelessly arranged as I had originally thought? Now that I looked closer, there seemed to be a pattern. There were two subjects being spoken of: L (the first sentence), and Wammy (the second sentence). The pattern then seemed to begin again. After the second sentence (concerning Wammy), the next sentence seemed to return to the subject of L.
His name is but a title.
Now, I knew Wammy sometimes went by the alias Watari, but he was not being referred to as Watari here. L was an alias of sorts, but it was, perhaps first and foremost, a title.
I turned off the bath water, and continued to read the sentences in this pattern, focusing on those that seemed to be on the subject of L. I had to follow them all the way around to the other side of the tub, which wasn't easy.
L is the goal that drives me, the thing I must obtain.
His name is but a title.
L is not the boy, L is the title, the goal.
The boy who has the goal, who holds the title, I don't know his name.
I know nothing about him.
I have never sought to find out about him, nor will I ever.
I know him only as far as his title.
To me, that title is his whole being, the only thing there is to him.
He goes no deeper than that.
I frowned. Things had indeed been different for the old generation. I didn't think any child here now could possibly think of L in such a way. L was our idol, our hero. We sought to become him, to earn his title, not steal it.
The more I read, the more I was convinced of how much A hated this place. The way he spoke of L, and even Wammy.
Why did you take me in?
For your gain, not for my good.
Another invention, another experiment.
However, I am the one that failed.
Your plans were wrong.
You'll redraw them and try again.
Your failures are thrown away.
I climbed into the bathwater, sinking in up to my chin. I had been right about the tub; it really did seem like it would swallow me, if only it could force itself to move. There was no soap, and no towels either, as I realized stupidly late. I would have to go without both. The words I'd just read wouldn't get out of my head, and they were making me rather uncomfortable. I couldn't figure out what it was exactly, but they seemed somehow familiar, especially those concerning L.
It took me hardly ten minutes to scrub off, getting myself as clean as I possibly could without soap. The heat helped relax me, and my frustration and anger towards Near for our predicament calmed. As I pulled the plug, emptying the bathwater, I felt as if I could manage to face him again.
I shook off the excess water on my skin, and simply put my clothes back on while I was still damp. I exited the bathroom, and found that the other two had fallen asleep.
Matt was curled up in the chair I'd previously been sitting in, mumbling quietly, and Near was on the bed, the papers he'd been reading having been moved to the floor. I was quite tired myself, but it seemed the only place left for me to sleep was the floor. I didn't like the idea. Though there was a rug, it was small and extremely dirty, and bare floor wasn't comfortable. Besides that, sleeping right on the ground in this room…it seemed so vulnerable. Unsafe. What exactly I had to be safe from, I had no idea.
Then the only option was the bed. Next to Near. I practically gagged. Share a bed with him? If only it had been Matt, but no, he'd just had to choose the chair. It was a big bed at least, there would be room between us. Still, the very idea of it was just…ew. I even began to seriously consider attempting to squeeze onto the chair. Or I could just go ahead and sleep on the floor.
But that would mean letting Near win again! Letting him have the whole bed to himself while I slept on the floor? No, that was not happening. I lay down on the available side of the bed, making sure there was as much space between us as possible, and tried to convince myself that I was perfectly comfortable.
I just hoped he wasn't a restless sleeper.
