Disclaimer: I do not own anything affiliated with the Death Note manga series or the book, Death Note Another Note: The Los Angeles BB Case.

Chapter 4

Tears stream down his cheeks, leaving behind their wake clean streaks over his bloodied face. What had he done?

"You know, Lonnie, you're really smart. Thanks for tutoring me with my math today. Do you want to just hang out and play tomorrow?" He laughs softly, a small tinkling laugh. "Sure thing, Tim. Just come and get me okay?" "Okay. See ya tomorrow," Tim says, waving as Lonnie walks across the street to his own home. Before entering his house Lonnie turns around and with a big smile on his face waves back to his friend.

"Mom, I'm back," Lonnie calls into the house, while taking off his socks and shoes and putting them by the door. When he hears no reply he begins to grow worried. "Mom," he calls out again. "Dad?" Stepping farther into the house he hears the muffled sound of someone crying hysterically. He finds Kristoff huddled into a ball in a corner by the stairs, rocking back and forth, a frantic look in his wide, tear-filled eyes. Lonnie kneels down by his little brother and rests a hand on his shoulder, noting the red stains on his pants and shirt before asking, "Kris, what's wrong? What happened? Where are Mom and Dad?" Kristoff remains as silent as if he were dead with only a shake of his head to show otherwise. Lonnie heaves Kristoff into a sitting position and finds something clutched in his hands, he wrenches it away. It was a kitchen knife, coated in a slimy red liquid that could only ever be identified as the crimson blood that courses through the veins of the living. Lonnie's gray eyes grow wide as he takes in the sight of the weapon. "What did you do?" he asks harshly. When Kristoff remains silent Lonnie lifts him up by the collar and sets him on his feet. "What did you do, Kristoff?" he shouts. Kristoff says nothing and merely looks off into the distance with blank, glazed over eyes.

Exasperated, Lonnie storms up the stairs searching for something, anything that could tell him what happened while he was away. What had happened? There had to be some kind of clue as to the apparent horrific events that had taken place in his home of nine years and Kristoff's of four. Nothing was moved out of place save for a few little things upstairs so he ran downstairs to conclude his investigation. As he ran past Kristoff, he finally broke his vow of silence. "They're in the kitchen," he says so softly his words could have been mistaken for a whisper in the wind.

Taking his direction, Lonnie runs into the kitchen and slips on the wet floor. When he looks about him he is horrified. Around him and being soaked up by his white long sleeved shirt and jeans is a large pool of blood. Tears leak out of his eyes in fear, but he wipes them away despite the fact that upon doing so he has smeared the blood on his face. He had to be strong. He had to find out the truth of what had happened at all costs. Lonnie stands back up, his legs shaking violently under him, threatening to give away, but he forces himself to go on and walk deeper into the kitchen.

As he rounds the corner of a counter his legs finally collapse from underneath him. On the floor lying motionlessly with their limbs in awkward positions were his parents. He buried his face in his hands as he began to sob uncontrollably. Tears mix with the blood on his hands for a while until he stands up once more, determined to get to the bottom of everything.

He spins on his heel, ready to confront his younger brother and almost falls over once again when he sees him standing right in front of him, head bowed with the blood stained knife still clutched tightly in his small hands. "What now, Kristoff? You going to kill me too?" Lonnie asks icily. Kristoff shakes his head, still not looking up from the ground. A long moment of silence passes between the two as Lonnie glares at Kristoff, waiting for an explanation. When nothing is said Lonnie decides to break the silence himself, "Why did you do it? All your life they had been nothing but good to you. Mom would be at your bedside whenever you were sick or scared and Dad would do everything in his power to come home from work early just to play with you." For a moment Kristoff says nothing as he contemplates his next vocalization. "I wanted it to be done by my own hand rather than by the unloving hand of a stranger," he mumbles. "Again with that, Kristoff? No one can ever tell when people are going to die!" Lonnie says through gritted teeth. "I can!" Kristoff shouts back, finally looking up to make eye contact with his older brother and match his glare.

Without saying a word Lonnie walks to the living room, trying to ignore the blood all around him. He felt dirty and disgusted with himself. If he had been home instead of helping Timothy with his homework, none of this would have happened. He picks up the telephone and dials a number. "Hello? Emergency operator, I need the police – my parents have just been killed," he says calmly, his voice smooth. They asks for his address and he gives it to them.

Kristoff walks into the room moments later. "I'm going to go to jail... Aren't I?" he asks softly. Lonnie doesn't respond as he sits on the sofa with his knees pulled up against his chest, his mind still moving as he tries to comprehend what on earth had just happened. "Please tell me I'm not going to go to jail, Lonnie. I didn't want to kill Mom and Dad, but I had to. I couldn't let someone else who didn't love them kill do it. Please answer me, Lonnie... I'm scared," Kristoff whimpers, standing closer. Lonnie stands up from his awkward sitting position on the sofa, an arm's length away from Kristoff. He raises his hand and strikes his brother as hard as he possibly can with the back of his hand. "You didn't have to do anything." With that said he walks to the door, but stops and turns to face Kristoff and says in a voice that lacks all emotion, "You're no brother of mine," before walking outside on the porch and closing the door behind him.

Those stabbing words sent Kristoff over the edge. He fell to the ground, hurting his knees in the process, and began to just cry and cry. He no longer had anyone; he was alone in the world and loved by no one. He cried until he could feel his throat begin to burn and ache and even then he still cried. What had he done? Old words, once spoken to him in the dead of night, come back to him: "Is the little human boy regretting making a deal with a devil?" These words only make him cry harder than he ever had in his life. Yes. Yes, he did now regret making a pact with a devil. It was only until he could cry no more that he finally felt the throbbing ache from where Lonnie had slapped him. He cupped his cheek with both hands almost as if in surprise and smiled. It was the last thing his brother had given him before he had said those hateful words and believe it or not he cherished it because he knew it was something he deserved.

Lonnie sat on the porch the same way he had on the couch not too long ago. Nothing had changed really, his mood was still very solemn. The only real difference was that he now hated himself with a passion because of what he had done to his brother – could he still even call him that, his brother, after what he had done to both their parents? That was a question in which he did not know the answer to in a heart beat.

Two police cars pulled up and men in dark blue uniforms stepped out, their eyes searching. One of the policemen came up in front of him and knelt down. He had a patch of unruly brown hair and his eyes were a dark chocolate brown filled with sympathy. "Excuse me, little boy, but were you the one that called us?" he asks in a warm voice. "It's Lonnie. Lonnie Lawliet," he replies in a soft and quiet voice. "Well, Lonnie, my name is Quillish Wammy. Could you please tell why you called for us?" "My parents were killed by my little brother," he answers. "Okay. Well, my buddies are going to go in and check out what happened. Mind if I stay out here and sit down with you?" Quillish takes the boy's lack of words as a yes and sits down next to him. It is only until Mr. Wammy sits next to him that he finally becomes self-conscious of all the blood on his body. It was everywhere – the blood; it was on his hands, smeared all over his face, soaked by his shirt and pants to be transmitted onto his skin. His parents' blood was all over him. He cringed at the thought.

"Please... Go easy on him. He's only four and I think he is emotionally or mentally unstable. Just... don't put him in jail – he's scared to go," Lonnie pleads, ignoring the question. "I can't promise you anything," Quillish says, his voice even and practiced. "Okay," Lonnie mutters, retreating deeper into himself.


Author's Note: This was a bit of a dark chapter, but I feel it really brought more life to my story. As for the character names... I'm aware that they have nothing to do with Beyond Birthday and L Lawliet... yet. I have a plan for their background story so just bear with me please. Reviews are still very much appreciated by those who wish to do so. And as always, Thanks so much for reading!