Light must have taken his sweet time in the john last night, because I'd fallen asleep before he returned.
But I could have sworn I stayed awake for another fifteen minutes at least. It's true that time is distorted in the middle of the night, but I'm usually pretty proficient at gauging it nonetheless.
I have an idea of what may have taken him so long in the facility, but it would be improper to think too long and hard about it. If I do that, I may end up feeling guilty myself.
It's early morning now, and Light is still asleep. I usually wake up well before he does.
Light must be every mother's dream. he sits up straight, does his homework, eats his vegetables, and always gets his eight hours of sleep at night. But I get the feeling he's not such a good boy at heart.
Who are you, Light? I'd like to know.
As always, I catch myself staring at him while he sleeps. I'm sure he would think it creepy, but no matter. He doesn't have to know.
He looks so different when he's unconscious. He lies on his stomach, legs crossed primly at the ankles, one hand curled up on his pillow, a bit of drool glistening on the knuckle closest to his mouth.
He looks so young and innocent when he sleeps. I wonder if I look that way?
Still less than awake myself, I yawn and stretch. In doing so, I discover something: Light's wrist is connected to the other end of this chain. I'm sure I was asleep when he returned, so he must have put it back on himself. But why?
Any normal person would find sleeping in handcuffs unpleasant; I know I do. I certainly would let it slide if Light wanted to take a break for one night. If Light is Kira, of course, he would detest being chained to me. He wouldn't have reconnected the chain out of habit; it is only taken off for restroom visits, and I always put the cuff back on his wrist afterwards.
I suppose I shouldn't overanalyze, but under the circumstances, it seems odd. In the middle of the night Light went to the bathroom, flustered and clammy, most likely due to a mild sickness or a plain old night-time erection. When he returned, would he be likely to be thinking about something as minor as replacing the chain? Probably not. So I wonder…
Making doubly sure that Light is still asleep, I lift his sheet to uncover his other wrist, the one the chain is attached to. The fingers of his right hand—the wrong hand—are pinned under his thigh, and his lower back is exposed. If he were to wake up now, I would be rather embarrassed.
What I notice more, though, is that the metal cuff seems to cut painfully into Light's skin. The area around the band is a raw red, and his hand is an unnatural purple color. He must have slapped the chain back on hastily, and put it on too tightly. Why, then, didn't he wake me to loosen it?
It's quite obvious that he's hiding something now. I just want to know what.