Hi! Updating again (I know, shocking right?), so yeah, review and all that :3
Emily x
Darkness was cast over Winchester as the sun fell down beyond the curvature of the earth. In the upper confines of Wammy's house lay the isolation room, normally reserved for the likes of A and B. Cowering in the corner of the isolation room was a certain Mihael Keehl, clutching one of the pillows that was scattered around the small space. The child was talking to himself quietly, rocking back and forth as if he were clinically insane. A gentle knocking could be heard, caused by the rain and wind rattling the window, yet the bow continued to gaze at the door, as if soon someone would appear, ready to give him the news that he'd die in order to receive. His eyes were read and swollen, and glittering tracks still ran down his cheeks where the tears had been. It was such a change from the confidence that usually etched its ways onto the boy's features.
After Mello had been sat alone in the room for the majority of a day, the door creaked open and a man walked in. He walked with back curved, head down and took small steps. When Mello first saw the man, he hesitated, believing it to be B with a simple clothing change. Yet, when he looked closer he found the eyes to be a dark, deep brown rather than the colour of fresh blood. Letting out a shriek, Mello threw himself backwards to be pressed against the wall.
"I'm sorry L. Don't send me away, not until I know he's alive."
"… No one's came to talk to you."
It wasn't a question. This was L, he never questioned; he simply stated facts. Mello found himself nodding in agreement anyway, gazing sorrowfully at his mentor. The room was filled with an awkward silence as neither knew what to say or ask first. As to be expected of him, Mello spoke out first.
"Is he alive?" He started out simple, only hoping to whatever God existed that he hadn't killed the boy; that fragile, beautiful, intelligent boy that had crept into his life in the middle of the night. Mello found himself shivering out of fear that the red haired child could be dead. There'd been so much blood…
"Mello! Calm down." Snapping his eyes open, Mello found himself pinned to the floor by L, shaking madly with fresh tears upon his cheeks as the onyx eyes bore into his soul. Taking deep breaths, Mello sat back up to watch L. "Mello, Matt is alive and becoming more stable by the minute. It looks like he'll be okay, so calm down."
Smiling to himself, Mello hugged L's legs tightly, glad that the boy had survived. He barley listened as L explained Matt's state to him, instead opting to drown it all out and focus on the fact that he was alive and any progress on top of that was a bonus. He picked up on the fact that Wammy had decided that he wasn't allowed to see Matt for now, seeing as he'd caused the whole mess. Something about the room arrangements was mentioned, but he didn't hear quite what. Releasing L's legs, Mello shuffled back to sit in the corner of the room, appearing to be slightly less demented than he had been prior to L's visit.
Hidden in the top floor of Wammy's was the infirmary. In the nurse's office, there was a small bookshelf that seemed to contain useless, old textbooks that gathered dust. A young matron who'd recently been hired heaved the bookcase out of the way to reveal a small tunnel in the wall. Gracefully, she lowered herself to the level of the tunnel and shuffled through the slightly uphill space on all fours, her lace apron becoming tinged by grey by the dust that had gathered in the tunnel throughout the time it had fallen into disuse.
When she reached the end of the darkness, the lithe woman rose, brushing the dust from her clothing with the back of a gloved hand. A small strip of silk was torn from the lining of her dress and used to pull back her hair while she made a first assessment of her patient. She'd been hired in the dead of the night by a man named Quilish for what was apparently a very unusual case. Taking in the site before her, she could tell the short brief she had received was at least accurate.
A small boy was sat upon the edge of the bed, shivering slightly. The state of his face was first to attract her attention; his eye was swollen shut and caked with blood that had been fed by a stream of coagulated blood sticking to his forehead. His forehead was caved in slightly, bruised and swollen a little as if it has been hit by something heavy. He appeared to have a broken nose and his lip was bust, but these seemed trivial in comparison to the other injuries the child had sustained. Due to the red hue of his hair, she couldn't see a lot of the blood hidden in the locks but his skull appeared to have received a similar hammering to that of his forehead. His chest rose and fell with a shiver, and the hand resting upon his back by a sadistic looking man appeared to be the only thing holding him up.
The woman didn't ask questions. She wasn't paid to ask questions. Peeling back the lace gloves that hid her skin, she placed them in her pocket and swapped them for a plastic alternative. Pushing the boy onto the bed with her index finger, she began to unceremoniously cut his clothing from him. The boy's torso was covered in deep bruises and contusions. Propping the boy up, she began to treat the wounds and bandaged his torso up. Shooing the orphanage workers out of the small, specialised room, she spoke for the first and last time to the orphanage workers.
"You better get out of here. I have a lot of work to do."