"Am I to assume that you're joking?"
This may not be best way to introduce my story, but I really can't think of a more appropriate moment to sign as a beginning.
"Believe me when I say that I wish this was a joke."
The man who was speaking to me, his name was James Huffman, and he was my only contact to the world.
I've kept my identity a secret for my whole life, and I must be honest, it has never been hard for me.
Why?
Because I was no one.
I didn't have a name, I legally never existed.
How?
Well, my mother was somewhat of a criminal, not a serious one, just an eventual shoplifter.
She didn't have a family, and she never had a stable relationship with anyone.
She was extremely forgettable, nothing about her was special or unique.
A simple face, like many others.
An extremely condescending personality, never imposing her ideas, never speaking of what she liked or disliked, simply and utterly plain.
Maybe this is one of the reasons why she never had a stable friendship, or love life.
I was born out of a one-night-stand, with a man that was so drunk he couldn't even remember his name.
My mother had me at home, alone, without help, and for some the first two years of my life i've lived with her.
Then, during a night like many others, she simply died.
I've stayed with her dead body for weeks, eating what i could find in the fridge, until there was nothing left in it.
At the time I couldn't speak.
My mother never spoke to me.
That's why I don't have a name.
She simply never called me.
She probably did have an idea of a name for me in her head, but she never bothered enough to tell me.
Or maybe she simply couldn't.
I'm not sure.
Well, after weeks I was on the edge of death, I remember it clearly.
That's when i first met James.
I'm not sure how he ended up at my mother's house, and I'm not even sure if I can call it a house.
It was a single room plus a bathroom, in a terrible place where no one asked anything, where houses were simply taken by the first who would set eyes on them.
When James found me, he began to take care of me.
I really admire him for this, as he was only twenty when he found me.
He's the one who thought me how to speak, and he's the one who began to give me names.
Not only one, because he always said I had more people inside of me, and each of them needed a different name.
I think I've used these three names for most of my life, always introducing my self with the name that felt more me at the given moment.
Not that I introduced my self a lot of times, I've only been properly introduced to five people in my whole life, one of them being James, even if it wasn't exactly 'proper'.
What are these three names?
Monica was the charismatic child, who evolved with time in a confident, sarcastic and seductive young woman.
Bertha was the incredibly smart and talented child, who has grown into an over intelligent and far too skilled woman.
Priscilla was the silent, lonely and cold child.
Priscilla hasn't changed much, she only became cooler and lonelier.
There wasn't a name for me as an entire human, only for the parts of me.
I've spent many years believing I wasn't whole, that I was a puzzle created with three enormous pieces, but a puzzle that never seemed to create a clear image.
Growing up, each part of me started to cultivate different interests.
Monica became interested in psychology, wanting to fill her thirst for control over others, and that's why she studied an awful lot to learn as much as she could about human minds, always behind closed doors, asking James to buy her more books.
Then there's Priscilla, and she was rarely interested in anything.
She was simply emotionless, and she didn't care about anything.
And then there's Bertha.
She was interested in everything.
She had so many talents, in acting, in music, in sport and, more importantly, in her mind.
She was too smart for her age, and she soon got the name 'genius' following close behind her own name.
She was interested in many many things, and one of those was detecting.
She started at the age of ten, with solving little mysteries.
Most of the times she could hear what was going on outside her room, with all the people that would come to James when they were in trouble.
It all started with a conversation she heard, and in weeks she managed to hear all about it.
During a sunny day, when no one was home, she went out of her room, and told James what she thought could be the truth about that person's problem.
She never knew who that person was, but when the flick of pride took over James's eyes, she simply forgot about anything else.
From that day on, James would slowly turn into her secretary.
Many asked for her help, as Bertha was able to solve any kind of mystery.
It has been fun, really, until one day, James came in with something far more complicated than anything Bertha has ever dealt with.
"So you're trying to tell me that two people, two anonymous people, asked Bertha to find out about L's identity AND Kira's identity?"
That was Monica asking, her annoyed voice sounding way too deep.
James moved rather uncomfortably on his chair as he looked at Monica, unsure about what to say.
"Yes. And I really took my time to consider everything, I've spent a whole week thinking about this.
And I think, I'm sure, that you can manage this."
Said James when he found a comfortable position on his chair.
Monica got up, and she started to walk in the room, her black heels ticking when they would hit the black marble floor.
She pushed back her straight black hair as she considered the options she had in front of herself.
L had already began his research for Kira, and he had made known many informations that could have simplified her work by an awful lot.
And once she would get Kira, she would find herself steps away from L.
It looked rather perfect now that she was looking at it.
That's why she accepted.
"Well then James, tell this two anonymous people that I'll get to work in this exact moment."
Said Monica as she turned to meet James's blue eyes.
Her onyx ones looked like black holes when reflecting against his.
"Book a flight for Japan, and be quick."
She said, and as James left the room she simply stood in front of a mirror.
In that mirror, both Priscilla and Bertha were giving their consent to her decision.