The television was blaring. It was the only sound echoing within the panelled walls. He didn't know exactly where it was coming from; just that it was there.
He was by himself in his dark dorm room; the only light being from the crack between his doorway stretching across the floor in a blonde glow. His neck was the only dull pain he felt. Everywhere else, he was numb.
His lips were chapped. He ran a finger across them as he stared at the shadowed ceiling.
He didn't want to remember why his neck was hurting. He didn't want to remember. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want the memories; the boiling hot feelings that ate him alive. He wanted it gone. Gone for good. Gone forever.
He was by himself in a dark room. His neck was hurting. His lips were chapped. Alone. Alone. Alone.
Breathing hurt too much. Would it be easier to simply stop? No, no. He'd die, wouldn't he? Last time he tried to do that, he… no. He didn't want to think about that; didn't want to remember; wanted the memories gone. Gone for good; gone forever.
He sat up; running a finger through his hair. His neck was hurting; the pain made him want to cry out, but he kept silent. The floor was cold. His neck hurt at each step he took towards the door. He wanted to whimper, but he kept silent. He opened the door and his muscles ached. He wanted to flinch, but stayed still. The blonde glow filled the room; erasing the shadows and warming his body. He wanted to crawl back into that darkness, but he proceeded forward.
The TV was louder at each step he took. One step; two steps; three steps; four. Sooner or later he found himself at the bottom of a staircase. One he hadn't seen it what felt like years, although he knew it'd only been weeks. Long ones, at that.
The television was flickering in and out of static; grey and red lines dividing the news program and riding up the length of the screen. There was a touch of white-noise in the background; scratching at the sound and the picture.
An Asian Newsperson with her arms folded and a serious expression cutting across her features was on screen. He couldn't understand what was being said or what he was looking at when the little square behind her grew larger and showed a wave of footage for whatever story was being told. He twitched the antennas lying on top of the television set and soon enough, the picture and sound grew more understandable; white-noise cutting only cutting in every now and then.
"… virus spreading in Thailand…" The footage showed men, women and children screaming; their skin boiling up into bright red hives; running; crying; panic. "... it has been discovered that this is no accident, but an act of terrorism…" The footage centred on a tall, ugly grey building. "… main suspect is a woman of European decent…" A forensic sketch opened up on the screen; large, yet with miniscule detail, but he immediately recognise who it was; for how could he forget her? How could he forget anything about her? "… goes by the alias 'Kujo'… if spotted or seen, do not approach; dial this number immediately…"
"Kay." He whispered. It hadn't yet hit him, yet; exactly where she went and what she'd done. But as seconds passed and the news bulletin died, that's when he felt that blow; straight into the centre of his stomach. A mixture of dread, fear, sickness, sadness, but mostly hurt. For then he realised, Kay was just as bad as Beyond. Just as mental; just as wicked.
And it ached.
He was biting back tears; his hand cupping his mouth; stepping away from the television screen. He didn't want to cry for the tears would feel like acid. He didn't want to hurt because each little pain added together and thusly created new scars. He had enough ugly scars to look at; tracking up the length of his arms and the length of his legs. They itched and burnt and got infected far too easily. He had enough of the pain and sickness; the people he loves turning their back and showing their true colours; killing off little pieces of him from the inside and out.
It wasn't fair. Why did he have to lead such a painful life? Why didpeople have to suffer? Why did people make other people suffer?
His hands were shaking; sweat clinging onto his skin. His entire body felt cold and his chest was heaving.
'I… I n-need to turn the television off. I… I can't…' He wanted to vomit. The newscast wasn't even on; replaced by some pathetic excuse of a soap-opera. But he couldn't forget it; swelling skin; pus exploding out of each mark; Kujo; Kay. Kay had done it. Kay destroyed them; those people. She's a murderer. A psychopath; a freak. A monster.
His neck was hurting and it reminded him. Reminded him of that. He couldn't stop the memories from coming; they were too much for him to handle. He wished his neck had snapped. He wished his spine broke through his throat so he could drown in pain and blood. He wished he threw himself off the top of Wammy's instead.
But he would have survived that too, wouldn't he? After all, his time wasn't up. He vaguely heard Beyond mention something of the sort as he lay on the hardwood floors, spitting out his own blood; Backup standing with a mocking grin above him. One that made him sick to the stomach. And Zero. Zero had helped him. Zero had tried to save him. But it was too late for that. Alternative was far too lost to be rescued from his pain. Too deep in the shadows to be dragged out; no matter how much he wanted to feel that real sun on his skin.
.-.
Dead white fingers dipped into an opened jar of jam; sweeping along the glass interior and then pushing into an open red mouth; a stained tongue licking off the remnants before dipping back into the jar. He licked his bottom lip realising there was a drop of jam coating it before sucking it in until the sweetness was gone.
Raspberry jam. It'd have to do, because the strawberry was gone. Not that he really cared, anyway; the flavours were similar with only a slight difference to them. But then again, small differences made matters change. Small differences separated people from being the same person all-together. Beyond's 'small' difference were his eyes. They separated him from everybody else. They reminded him that he was 'different'; that he isn't 'normal'. Yet he wouldn't change that for the world, even if it offered him all of its riches and power.
He was staring out the window; perched on the opened window sill; three storeys high. He knew he could fall if he weren't careful, yet he knew he wouldn't. He wouldn't let himself fall. And even if he did, then that's just nature taking its course.
He could see them; Zeki, Andy and Xara. They were sitting together on the opposite side of Wammy's underneath a thick tree. Zeki between the two; little Andy Spark sitting close enough to rub shoulders with him, yet he was looking away from them; moping, almost. His hand nearly brushing against his throat.
Like a liquid movement, Beyond tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes; trying to get a closer look. Beyond's sight was exceptional and beyond what was deemed as 'normal' for an average human being. Those were his Shinigami eyes in action.
Xara wasn't smiling, either. Zeki was frowning as he glanced at little Andy Spark. A returned the glance and shifted his hand closer to Zero's, against the grass.
"Naw, isn't that cute." Beyond teased, although he knew that there was no possible way for any one of them to be able to hear him. "Little A is already over me."
His door clicked and creaked and small thuds echoed across the hard floorboards. Beyond snapped his head to face the intruder.
"Why, good afternoon Mihael." He greeted in a sickeningly-sweet tone of voice. Mello felt the hairs on his arms raise.
He studied him with ice blue eyes from where he stood; making no move to get closer to him. "Mama flung herself out of a window. She asked me to help her fly. So I did, and I watched." His voice was thick and calm. His English words were getting easier for him to pronounce every day, yet his accent still managed to get in the way of every spoken.
Beyond smiled warmly down at the boy. "That's adorable. My mother thought it'd be fun to jump in front of a train." Beyond gripped onto the top of the window sill and leaned closer; licking his lips in the process. "All that was left of her was a piece of torn skin and a squished eyeball." He made a slurping noise and Mello's face grew dead white.
"That's sick."
"And you don't feel any guilt for killing your mother?" The teen asked thickly; only letting a flat, stern expression grace his features.
Mello didn't answer. His eyes glinted; his fists clenched; his mouth thinned. He couldn't meet eyes with him. Beyond supressed a grin.
"What of your father?" He was merely asking out of curiosity, as it didn't really matter what happened to either one of his parents; the main point was that they were cactus, and that should be the end of it. But it was always fun to toy with people's emotion and having a piece of information as personal as that never hurt him; only them, when it was used 'appropriately'.
Mello took a step back. "Alive." He rasped and Beyond's footing slipped from the window sill out of surprise. He quickly gripped onto the sides of the sill and pulled himself in, in a split second of time; his heart racing quicker than hare getting chased by a lawnmower. And he assumed that'd be an item of nightmares, for the little rodent.
"Alive?" Beyond's mouth gaped. "Then what the fuck are you doing here?"
Mello only stared at him before jogging out of the room. Beyond could hear his footsteps thudding against the hardwood floors. He sighed to himself. Alive. How is that even possible? Then again, how was anything possible? How was he possible?
Beyond glanced back out the window sill he'd previously been perched upon. Xanthus, Zero and Alternative were gone. Beyond shut the glass window and closed the curtains as he remembered exactly what was going through his head before Mello pointlessly disturbed him. An idea associated itself in his mind and a deep smirk gouged across Beyond's mouth.
.-.
"Fast I fade away, it's almost over; so I suffocate, I'm cold and broken"
Song: Fade Away – Breaking Benjamin.
Phew, it's been a bit of a while since an update. To be honest, I'd actually completely forgotten about Ghost; I've been too preoccupied with, well, life. And yeah, it's been a bit rough but I'd like to say that I've emotionally grown as a person in the past year and I can tell that not only has it affected me, but it's affected my writing, as well. I don't know about you guys, but it feel different to me, you know? It hasn't got the same 'craziness' as it did in the first few chapters.
And yes, this chapter was basically a filler, of sorts. I was just trying to not only channel a bit of my own emotion into it, but I tried to find that 'mood' that Ghost continues to linger in, no matter how long I leave it for.
And if I must, I'll disclaim Death Note before I forget. I just haven't written fanfiction in so long and sadly, I am literally not obsessed with Death Note anymore. I barely ever think of it, these days! And yes, I suppose the only thing I own of Death Note (besides the anime, movie and manga collection) is a mini-Beyond sitting on my shoulder and whispering to me what evils of society I should commit. Yes, he is my conscience. ;D
But Ghost isn't going to last for much longer and to be honest, I'm kind of devastated by that. This fanfiction has been a part of my life for almost three years and it means the world to me. Not only is it the first fanfiction I've ever written with an actual storyline to it, but I feel like I've learned too much about Beyond to handle for one person, just by writing as him. And Alternative, too. In fact, even though he isn't real, I feel close to him and wish I could just give him a hug and tell him everything will be alright, but I know it won't because canon canon and what Takeshi Obata and Tsugumi Ohba says goes. I'll probably cry for Alternative, anyway :'(
