Chapter 4
[Matt's point of view]
Phew. That new bitch Mello's hanging with isn't his usual type. She's got a 10% chance of living through this. I've known so many with less than one.
I guess I ought to explain my actions over the past few hours. Let's begin with teaching the Rose to be dirty. Nature's not always clean, is it? So that means even flower's petals wither. Hers probably started shriveling the moment she took a sip of vodka. I guess Mello did his share in this part, picking her up and all the crap that started this. But I feel that I made a decent effort and got my two cents in. Teaching someone to smoke their first cigarette is quite an interesting thing. I still remember my first, even after all these years. I can still remember having my father hold up a little clear-blue lighter to the cigarette in my mouth. I was seven years old.
My father was my sanity. He hit me sometimes; I couldn't tell you how many broken bones that man had given me. But it brought me back to the cold, hard, painful reality of earth. I did bad things just to be hit by him. I wanted the approval that I'd done something, bad or good didn't matter. If I had done anything, I'd be beaten like a dog, and then my world would seem to become horridly real. I loved the scary feeling of everything around me truly being there.
But one day things went too far.
I was being me, doing something to offend someone so that my father would smack me like usual. I went down the street on Sunday, looking for something to do, when I came across a farmer's market. When I thought that I had some cover, but not enough to truly hide me, I grabbed a canvas and ran with it. Sadly I didn't anticipate the woman selling the art attempting to chase me. I figured, my intelligence shining at this moment, that if she caught me, I'd be beaten worse! And so I slowed down my breakneck pace, to a speed that she could catch me at. I was running in the direction to my home, so I led her on a bit farther, and then faded as she caught up only a few houses away from the little one I lived in with my mother, father, and sister. She grabbed me by the collar, choking me.
"Where d'you live, little boy?" She yelled at me, her hot and smelly breath making me want to shout.
"Just up there, miss." I told her, putting on the face of a young child stripped of innocence.
She then marched me up to my home and rang the doorbell. I was so exited! My father came out, drunk as hell.
"The hell'd my boy do to you, bitch?" He asked, slurring harshly.
She told him the story, and had to keep myself from smiling hugely and dropping the canvas I was still carrying. That's when things took a different turn. Apparently fed up with me in his drunken state, he pulled out a knife and started to stumble toward me. I wanted to scream, but with pure pleasure as he sliced across my arms and chest. The woman was looking at him, as if she were afraid for herself. She ran away as I had to keep myself under such control. It was so hard to keep myself from admitting my rapture, but id I did he'd stop. We were there in our front yard, me loving every moment of pain, as my father slashed at me. I kept up an act, dodging every now and then, and running around a bit at a slow pace. Oh god, it felt so damn good! The world was coming back to me, everything becoming realer than I could have hoped for.
But my father made a mistake as he mutilated me, one that caused me a hell of a lot of trouble. He tripped over a pebble, resulting in him falling on top of me. His bottle of beer smashed on the sidewalk, and the knife he held was driven into my eyeball.
If you think you know pain, think twice.
Even masochistic little Mail couldn't stand this. The knife felt like ice, cold against the heat of the summer. I was screaming now, although my ecstasy had left. I realized behind my thoughts of pain that it wasn't reality I was seeing, but some sort of twisted fantasy where my life was what my father wanted it to be. Pain was pain, and pain couldn't stop it. I was seizuring manically on the ground, unable to stop what I felt. It felt like an eternity I lay on the ground, bleeding like crazy, not even bothering to cry. Before I passed out, I dimly remember an ambulance pulling up.
Have you ever wondered why I where long sleeved striped shirts? It's to cover my scars. And the goggles I wear? They're there to hide the fact that I had an eye transplant in my left eye.
I was pulled in by a local orphanage, thanks to the work of some great adults. Shortly after that was over, I began to play video games. The fantasy worlds and amazing adventures they featured were my sanctuary. Since my reality of pain had been crushed, I needed something to hold on to. Video games and cigarettes seemed to be my only comforts. Cigarettes reminded me of my father, of my past. Video games constantly kept me moving forward, telling me I could be a hero too.
I guess I lost track of what I was talking about… I'll save it for another time. Another story to be told.
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Author Notes: Shit. This chapter seriously gave me some fucking nightmares. The more I read it, the more sickening it is. Ugh. I swear I just can't look at Matt the same way ever again.
Anyway, I figured chapter four would be a good time to put down some little notes to entertain you people who are twisted enough to actually read this. I chose chapter four because my second favorite number is two and two times two is four. No, really I only just thought about putting these notes in as I was about to upload this chapter and was like, "What the hell, might as well let 'em know that I'm not as sick as I seem after this all."
Story of my life.
I guess now that I'm proving that I'm not really Tsugumi Obha and Takeshi Obata [please let me have spelled their names right…], I should add that I don't own an part of Death Note. They do. I fear writing who "They" are, for I might spell their names wrong again. I'm quite sure I did the first time. I'd correct myself, but I have no idea how to spell their names for sure so I'd most likely spell them wrong again.
Hmm, now on to my notes about what's happening in the story itself. If you're wondering why I'm calling Miss Rose Miss Rose when I've already stated it's an alias, it's because I simply haven't thought of a name for her. [Sighs] My friend had a long rant about that. I had no idea I'd go beyond the first or second chapter in this story, so I never much worried about her name. Now I'm freaking out. I've always written by just grabbing paper or a computer and then it always just comes out. No joke. So when I started writing beyond the first or second chapter I realized I had no storyline to follow and didn't even know my main character's name [sweat drop]. I think I'll save it for the end, a little something to make you read for.
And now for notes specifically on this chapter. Masochistic mutilated little Matty-Mail-Jeevas. Hmm, has a nice ring to it, ne? Well, originally I wanted this chapter to talk about Rose and her role around this old building the American Mafia family Mello's with is staying in. I ate too much sugar and it took a different turn. That's what I get for having ideas. I'm sad to say that I don't know much of anything about the Sicilian or American Mafias, getting drunk, having sex, being mutilated, waking up in a stranger's bed, or being held at gunpoint. Seeing as I'm only thirteen years of age, I'd say that's a good thing, too. I guess I felt that Matt needed some history, not just, "There's some new bitch hanging with us. Lololololol." I needed more meat than they gave us in the manga and anime. Odd, considering as of today I'm going to be vegetarian.
Well, I must say that last paragraph was as off-topic as this chapter. I'd like to give large trophies and heavy medals or shiny awards to a few people, but sadly I can't. Two reasons: One, I'm broke. Two, It's the internet and there's no damn way I'm getting any of the aforementioned through the computer screen to you. I guess you'll have to settle for some small "thank you" s and a tad of recognition.
Sakura1243: Thank you for proof-reading these chapters through e-mail, I made so many mistakes in chapter two I felt like ripping my own head off. You're a great friend, and thank you for helping your dear Matt through his masochism. Now that they're with me for the week he's having some great fun. If you're not sakura1243 and you just read this and can't make any sense of it whatsoever… [Jedi mind trick] You saw nothing…
Smexychocoholic: Thank you oh-so-much for reviewing my story! It means a lot to me that anyone bothers to read anything I write. I've read at least one story by you and must say that it was wonderful. Although, I completely flipped out when I realized my father was standing behind me and might have been reading it as well…he hasn't mentioned it so I hope I don't die.[I'm praying with the combined force of a thousand Mellos and at least one Jesus, who cares if I'm religious or not. I have a feeling I mixed up religions there…shit…]
I wish I could give you each on eighteenth of the world, for the rest is surely mine, but I can't because I'm not really Hitler and I don't actually own any of the world. I'm sorry. I'm also sorry that these ANs are probably going to end up longer than the entire chapter. But, who cares, there has to be some sort of Brightside before next chapter.
Speaking of next chapter, I absolutely refuse to put it up until I get two more people to review! Two because it's my second favorite number and asking for four more people is probably two too much and you'll forget this story exists! That would definitely not be good, for it would make me unhappy, and considering I have the mental stability of BB, that would probably make you very unhappy as well. I'm quite sure you would like to read chapter four as well, for who wouldn't like to read about Mello's childhood? I swear the first two things that come to mind when I think, "Mello's childhood", are "Rape" and "Child molesters". You know it'll be good when it contains those pretty words.
Anyways, I've been writing these for about an hour –save the breaks to pop/crack my fingers/knuckles/anything else that's it's possible to pop/crack and the one trip to the bathroom- and although I'm on a roll, it's almost two in the morning. If my parents were to come in I'd be screwed. And these notes are almost an entire thousand words too! I sure hope you've enjoyed them. So many random things keep popping into my head that I want to write about! I'm going to have to devote an entire chapter to notes at some point…
As a final stand, please review this story. If you were paying any attention at all earlier, you hopefully noticed how much it means to me. I love you all very much! Goodnight! Oyasuminasai! [insert "good night" in every language known to mankind here]!
Also, I don't know Italian. I know Japanese. If I screw up the Italian, please alert me and I'll have a serious talk with my Google translator thing! Uh… If I screw up any Japanese let me know about that too.