-.- I've been feeling very down lately. Oh well, when I read this theme, I thought of A. In this short fic, A is a girl. Oh and this is rated Tfor suicide. Do I have to change the over all rating? Please tell me in a review or something. Sorry for the Abrupt ending.
I don't own B or the idea of A.
73/100: I Can't
Average.
Ambushed.
Absurd.
Alive.
Ancient.
Alcoholic.
Adorable.
Aggravated.
Awful.
Arrogant.
Angelic.
Ashen.
Apathetic.
Annoying.
Abnormal.
They had never told her what A stood for. It was always left to her imagination. Why would they? She was just an experiment. A practice. The first pancake. A rough draft. A slopy copy.
She was…
Abandoned
… as soon as they figured out that she wasn't cut to be the next L.
She wasn't…
Astounding
Astonishing
… or Amazing, therefore she shouldn't have been at Wammy's House, the place for extraordinary children. She was…
Average.
What were they thinking, bringing her to this place after her parents died? She was probably…
Accidental.
She was never meant to go to Wammy's. She couldn't keep up with all the work. The only person she talked to was B (Backup. Betrayed. Beyond. Bemused. Bold. Beautiful. Bountiful. Boring. Blasphemy. No one knew what their letters stood for. )
She was…
Ahead
…for a while but that didn't last long. She was…
Almost
…there, but she got lost under all the pressure. She couldn't take it. It was all an…
Anemic
…attempt to make herself believe she wasn't worthless. But they would show her the truth eventually. Force her to see it. She couldn't be the next L, even though that was what she was raised to become. What was she supposed to do now? Try harder?
That was the only option. So she did. She strained herself so hard, she went days, weeks without eating or sleeping and her friend, her only friend, B, trudged beside her wearily and worriedly, always for some unknown reason glancing frantically at the empty space above her head. What was so interesting up there anyway? It's not like her life was hanging on top of her head.
She could feel herself withering away; she could feel herself dying little by little, her weak little soul turning into nothing.
And one day it became too much.
"I can't do this anymore."
x.X.x
It was a rainy morning. A hadn't been down to breakfast. She hadn't gone to the library either. She wasn't studying in the garden. B had checked. He started to become worried about her (more so than usual).
Was today the day? Had she finally given up? Had she finally cracked under the pressure? Poor girl…
A blanket of sorrow was somberly placed over his shoulders. The melancholy rain cloud above his head refused to go away as he trudged up the stairs to the left, shuffling slowly through the hallways and to the front of A's room.
He hesitated for a millisecond as his hand hovered near the door knob. He didn't bother knocking as he pushed open the door lightly. He walked in, closing it behind him. The lights were turned off, and her room looked very dark. The only window was covered with a thin curtain. The tap-tap of the rain hitting the window was the only thing breaking the silence.
A was sitting on her chair in front of her desk, facing B as if she had been expecting him all along. B noticed she had something in her lap and taking a closer look he finally realized what it was.
She fingered the gun lightly, and looked at B with teary eyes.
"What do you think 'A' stands for, B?"
He pressed his lips together, his mouth becoming dry. His eyes darted to the space above her head. The numbers were going down oh so fast.
She sat up straighter. Her hazel hair fell neatly around her shoulders. Her legs were crossed at the ankles and tilted slightly to the side. Resting on her lap was the gun, her pale fingers ghosting over it.
"Do you love me, B?" She asked, once again breaking the silence.
He answered both of her questions.
"Always."
She smiled, a tear sliding down her cheek.
She picked up the gun placing it against the side of her head. Her eyes were trained on B's. No words were said. B didn't try to stop her (he knew her time was up. The numbers were almost there). He knew there was nothing he could do about it anyway. And she was glad that she didn't try to stop her. She didn't want to die…
Alone.
Now she could die in the company of B, her friend, her would-be lover. She could finally rest in peace.
"Thank you," she whispered.
BANG.
"Always."
