AN: May I remind you that murder is illegal and that if you kill me, the author, you will not hear the end of this fanfiction. Also, I might change the rating because of an idea I got that I'm going to use next chapter. Give me feedback on whether I should or shouldn't.

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note

Chapter 7 – Dream

My heart skipped a beat and I froze, confused and caught off guard. His soft lips brought me back and I finally reacted. Our bodies were pushed together and it was perfect. It was like we were one human being, with hearts beating together forever.

But then it was over. And I wanted to kiss him again.

I hated myself for thinking about that and I hated him for making me think about that.

I was finally able to fix my features into a somewhat decent glare.

"Get out," I said through gritted teeth.

His eyes were begging for that last statement to have never been said.

"Leave!" I shouted, my voice cracking, "Get the fuck out!"

I could see his heart breaking behind his beautiful eyes. I turned away and pointed to the window, resisting the urge to reach out and apologize. Resisting the urge to beg him to stay. Resisting the urge to beg him to take me with him.

But I didn't do anything.

Once he was out the window and down the tree, I collapsed on my bed, holding the blade up to eye-length.

Then I placed it on my wrist.

I didn't care about hiding the scars or potentially lethal cuts; I just wanted this familiar pain.

Yeah, I knew it could be worse.

Yeah, I knew that I didn't have any real reason.

BUT I DON'T FUCKING CARE!

I sobbed as I drew the blade across my wrist, the pretty red line appearing and dripping.

Why am I such a screw-up?

I drew another one right under it, my sobs turning into half-laughter.

Why do I always do this?

A third one finds it's way underneath the first two.

What's wrong with me?

And then a fourth.

Everything.

That's what's wrong with me.

The clock reads11:38.

Really now?

I can't concentrate. The blade somehow gets thrown across the room and I am curled up under the covers.

I have to make it up to him. I can't drive him away. I wouldn't be able to live.

If you can call this living...

My alarm clock went off and I jumped. I almost got up to get ready for school, but it was Saturday.

"Fuck," I muttered and rolled over.

This was going to be a long weekend.

So I fell back asleep, hoping to just dream the weekend away.

"Hello, Love," Matt greeted me with a kiss as he walked through the door, wearing a pinstripe suit and carrying a briefcase.

"How was work, honey?" my voice sounded soprano and I was wearing a standard 1950's style housewife outfit. And…I had boobs?

"Wonderful! I got a promotion!"

"That's awesome! Kids! Dad's home!"

"Yay!" two young voices called out.

A young girl with red hair in pigtails came running into the room. Following her came a younger boy with shaggy blonde hair. Matt scooped them up.

I giggled as he twirled them around.

"How was school?" he asked as he set them down.

"Boring," the girl pouted.

"Daddy, daddy!" the boy pulled on his sleeve, "We got 2 new students!"

"Really? What are their names?"

"Mail and Mihael!" Mommy, what's for dinner?"

"Turkey," I replied, "Now why don't you kids do your homework?

"Fine," they sighed in unison.

As they walked away, the scene changed.

The cheery house was replaced with a dingy apartment. The redheaded girl was now a teenager and she was lying facedown on the floor, bleeding. The boy was next to her, screaming.

"Shut up!" I sneered. I caught sight of my reflection – messy hair and bags under my eyes.

"You bitch!" Matt was yelling at me.

He punched me.

I awoke, breathing heavily. Silent tears started rolling down my face and I didn't notice them until I saw my face in the bathroom mirror.

AN: So, the reasons for the dreams? Try figuring it out…