Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or any of the characters except for the OCs.
CHAPTER 2
Valerie
When I woke up the next day, the clock at the opposite side of the wall was already showing 09:30. I yawned, forcing my sleepy half-lidded eyes open and slid down from the bed, my bare foot sunk into the fluffy carpet beneath. It wasn't my habit to get up late, even on weekends, but I figured it wasn't much surprising considering how many hours I had been sleep-deprived these recent weeks, preparing for the clinical rotation.
It took me a while to regain full consciousness, before lazily dragged my legs across the room to hit the shower. I didn't forget to brush my teeth, especially because last night I didn't do the routine due to over-exhaustion hence the unpleasant taste inside my mouth cavity. After getting rid of the sleepy face, I made myself a bread and jam with a cup of hot tea while turning on the TV to watch some morning news.
Well, there was nothing interesting except for crime news such as murder, robbery, missing person and so on as I surfed through the channels so I gave up. I turned off the TV and decided it was better for myself to go outside, since it was still quite early and the weather might be not as freezing as yesterday. I wasn't in the mood of re-reading the differential diagnosis books that were scattering on my desk.
Someone had told me this good advice: when you're not in the mood, don't do anything you're not in the mood. I found that worked just flawlessly since I had always screwed things up whenever I wasn't in the mood of doing so.
So yeah, textbooks could wait. Sorry, VINDICATE(1), will catch up with you guys later...
I changed my clothes, put on my coat, scarf, and boots, grabbed my cell phone and wallet and put them into my bag before I walked out of my room.
Mello
Matt sat quietly on the chair as I leaned against the backseat of the couch next to him. I slumped lazily, extending my legs, my heels perching on the edge of the wooden surfaced table. My eyes were closed while my leather-covered fingers running on my temples, massaging them in certain spots. An unwrapped chocolate bar clutched to my other hand was on its way to my mouth, and I snapped off a small chunk before munching in silence, slowly. Whenever I put more effort the pain would emerge back.
Fuck. The hammering pain was yet to disappear from my head, even when I had taken another pill. It wasn't only the sore headache that felt like a shitty hangover that troubled me. Nausea completely screwed up my body and I had to spill the contents of my stomach a few hours ago at the bathroom.
It wasn't the first time I vomited and feeling nauseous since I took the painkillers; after all Jack said those were common side effects of the drug and I would be better in no time.
Hmph. In no time my ass. In reality it only got much worse, and mind you I was one of those people who had great metabolism. Yet I still felt like shit.
"I think you should call Jack." I opened my eyes to peer at Matt, who was looking at me in serious face. He spoke again with unmistakable concern that could be heard clearly from his voice, "You're not ok, and I know that."
"I'm ok, Matt. Five minutes is all I need," I mumbled with my usual nonchalant attitude, but I guess Matt caught the faintest hint of uncertainty on my tone.
"You're NOT ok, Mello. I'm not blind," he countered, sighing heavily. He reached up to my cell phone on the table and handed it to me. "Come on, at least you should ask Jack to make sure there's nothing wrong with you."
I looked at the cell phone half-heartedly before rolling my eyes back to Matt, not giving any reactions. But eventually my lack of response made the redhead clicked his tongue in annoyance and snatched the chocolate bar from my hand, shoving the cell phone instead between my fingers.
"Just fucking give a call or I toss this to the dumpster." He threatened while waving the chocolate bar, only making me snorted and smirked at his poor attempt.
"As if I don't have any more left. Fine."
I began to look up for Jack's numbers before suddenly it started vibrating. The screen displayed an income call.
And it was from the very person.
"It's Jack," I stated, lifting one eyebrow. What a rare occasion. Jack never called during work hours; he even called me only once during my hiding period. Most of the time we only exchanged texts.
"Coincidence? Well, take it."
I hit the answer button and lifted the cell phone to my ear. "Yeah?"
Valerie
I stepped down from inside the bus, carrying bags of groceries on one elbow, one hand holding an opened book, walking down the street loaded by pedestrians brushing past me from every direction. I had settled on going grocery buying during my short time outside of the apartment, as well as giving myself a little service by buying new books from the bookstore. I was very much a bookworm; you could see that from books tidily placed in lines inside two bookcases in my flat. Well, not really as tidy as it sounded like; there were more of them mounting on my desk or on certain places in the room, but you got the point.
Books, be it anything: fiction or non-fiction, but I personally liked the heavy-themed ones; were my main interest. Most of the time I could walk while reading without accidentally bumping into something or someone (apparently my Mom hated this quirk of mine, since whenever I was "in the zone" it would take an earthquake plus an airplane crash to bring my attention back to the universe, she said). Precisely like what I was doing now, reading 11/22/63 by Stephen King, my long-time-favorite author. Horror and dark suspense all the way!
Before I knew it, I had arrived in front of the apartment building. Saving the book for afternoon reading, I put it into my bag when someone who was standing just outside the front doors caught my eyes.
Isn't that the lanky neighbor?
I couldn't be wrong; the flashy red hair, the goggles, and the striped shirt told me I was no wrong. I had never seen him outside of the building since I presumed he didn't like going outdoors that much.
I stared at his figure and immediately noticed that he seemed like waiting for someone. He swept his gaze around, constantly checking his cell phone, probably expecting any calls or messages—I wasn't sure. I guess he didn't get any since he put it back to his pocket, instead pulling a cigarette box from inside his vest, took one cigarette, lit it up and started smoking.
Huh. I had never respected smokers. Four bucks only to have your respiratory, circulatory, immune, and musculoskeletal systems contaminated by nicotin, tar, carbon monoxide and hydrogen cyanide? Absolutely wasn't my choice of life.
After contemplating for a while, I decided to say hello. A little hospitality can't hurt, right? Especially to your own neighbor. I thought someone should start the conversation somehow, just to be polite.
Approaching the goggled guy in steady steps, I stopped before him. "Hi," I called with a small smile. He turned his head and looked at me, seemingly confused at the moment. From what I saw, he's around my age, less or more perhaps.
Not really sure what to say, I continued, "You're the guy from the next room, right? We briefly met yesterday at the hallway. My name's Valerie and I live near to your room. Thought I just want to say hello." I extended my hand.
I supposed he was trying to scrutinize my face before finally smiling, took his cigarette off his lips and shook my hand.
"Hey, Valerie. The name's Matt," he introduced himself. Smoke and tobacco-contained breath sneaking their ways into my nostrils and I had to resist not using my hand to shove the stink away in front of his face. "Sorry if I didn't recognize you beforehand, I never pay good attention to my surrounding. Oh, and sorry for yesterday."
"That's ok. So, uh... what are you doing here? Waiting for someone?" I asked, trying to start a topic.
Matt shrugged indifferently. "Been waiting for ages for nothing though."
"Oh. Is it your... friend from the yesterday?" I didn't know if I mentioned the right word (maybe they were more?), but anyway, I chose to play safe.
"No..." he gave a sigh. For a second he looked frustrated, placing the cigarette back between his lips and inhaled the condemned thing. "I'm waiting for a doctor acquaintance of mine. My friend is upstairs."
"Oh…" I nodded in understanding. "You're not feeling well?"
"Nah, it's not me." He paused for a moment, brows furrowed. "It's my friend."
"What happened to him, if I may ask?" I tried to sound concerned.
Matt seemed hesitated. Below the tinted glasses I could see him looking right into my eyes, as if gauging if I could be trusted. After a while he finally gave his response, practically whispering. "He's been taking painkillers recently, and I guess the effect completely screws him."
So we have a painkiller addict here huh? "Nausea and vomiting, I suppose?"
"Yeah... and shallow breath. He also got severe headache just this morning."
"Tylenol, Vicodin, or...?"
"Vicodin."
Hmm. Vicodin indeed may led to the mentioned symptoms, including headache, but severe? "How long has it been?" I asked.
"Uh... the using or the nausea...?"
"Both."
He thought it for a while. "About one week. As for the sickness... it's getting worse past these three or two days."
"How many pills a day?"
"I'm not sure... he was told to take one every three to four hours though. But I guess he often took more."
He was told to? Hmm, maybe this wasn't a case of an addict after all...
I nodded in understanding while my brain processing the given information, not aware of Matt looking at me bemusedly.
"I don't want to sound rude or anything..." he began, making me turn around to meet his goggles. His head slightly tilted to his right side as he continued, "... But what's with those questions anyway? I mean, thank you for your concern, I appreciate it very much, but you sound more like... you know, interrogating?"
I blinked at his statement. Interrogating? Maybe I would have to re-rehearse how I was supposed to interview a patient.
I just laughed and shook my head. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound like that. I guess it's kinda an impulse I always do whenever I listen to complaints of symptoms."
Matt gave a questioning look as a response. "I'm a med student," I explained.
"Really?" His eyebrows lifted as he removed his cigarette. Gah, the smoke. "Wow, that explains. Year?"
"Two," I replied.
Matt seemed intrigued. "So you've been handling a patient before?"
"I have classes for that, but the real thing is coming next year," I said. "I'm having my clinical rotation in January."
"Oh. That must be awesome."
"I hope so..."
He finally put his cigarette away, dropped it to the ground and stomped his feet on it, before fixing his attention back to me. "Hey Val, do you think you can do me a favor?" he inquired, a hint of pleading in his voice.
I arched an eyebrow, not only because his sudden request but also his way of shortening my name, but I chose to ignore it this time. "About what?"
The next response was quite expected.
"Can you take a look at my friend?"
Mello
I was lounging on the couch, working on my eleventh chocolate bar in a row while surfing television channels, not really watching though. I was physically feeling better now since the headache gradually ceased and the nausea wasn't so bad as before, but mentally not, as I was too busy seething under my skin.
For God's sake, what took Matt so long? It's been one and a half fucking hour and still he didn't come back. Did he lose Jack? Or maybe Jack didn't come? My last text to my companion was replied by 'Shut up and stay there like a good kid'. What the fuck, Matt?
Something wasn't right. I was more than aware of that. Not only that I was surprised Jack told me he was in New York, but also the way he spluttered on the phone then. It was odd. He practically whispered on the other line, as if he phoned me secretly and was afraid of getting caught. Jack said he wanted to meet me in person, so I gave him Matt's apartment address and told him to get here. He said he would come in less than an hour.
Yet now it was almost one hour and forty-eight minutes since Matt left downstairs. I was left here, dwelling on the tattered couch alone, staring blankly at the television show like a complete idiot.
Damn. No one dared to make me wait, no one. I swore, another minute and nothing new, I would get into my bike and leave to Jack at once to demand an explanation from his own mouth. I could ask Matt to track down his location.
But before I could set up another plan in mind, the sound of the door opened accompanied with footsteps made me turned my head, and I pulled myself to my feet.
1. VINDICATE : a mnemonic used by medical students to learn differential medical diagnosis: Vascular, Inflammatory, Neoplastic, Degenerative/Deficiency, Idiopathic/Intoxication, Congenital, Autoimmune/Allergic, Traumatic, Endocrine.