A/N; Been awhile, huh? (Today is Febuary 3rd, 2011!) And sorry if it's choppy. I wrote this at different times and kept half of it and rewrote most. o.e So for anyone reading, that's why it took so long. But it's the longest chapter so far. Just randomly longer too.

(Actually, I plan on making this into a comic one day, so that's why it seems like a lot is going on. You could probably see where the chapters would be broken up for the comic too.) Anyhoooo, please enjoy!

The Death Note 2

Pages: | Third

Entry Name: | Block

It's pretty clear that there's a high chance that I'm a Kira now. I guess I have a truly murderous side in me. And Yuka praised me for it. A page a night, every night. And those pages were probably filled with thirty to forty something lines.

I never knew that I could and would do that – kill and kill and kill, that is. I'm a murderer. Some may agree and some may disagree. But the thing is, those people may they be 'bad,' but at the same time they had lives out there and someone that cared about them.

Fuck. I'm going to throw up again. Headaches and wanting to throw up constantly. Strange that I could never bring myself to puke though. What is this; stomach flu?

I lay on my bed and close my eyes. It has only been a week since I went to the headquarters. After that occurrence, I was writing names and causes until my hand hurt. But surprisingly, my hand didn't start hurting for a while.

What was it... One page of thirty-ish lines times seven (six and a half?) for each day so far. … Damn.

I had told Anna I was sick and didn't want to be disturbed. Luckily she respects my privacy quite well.

It's Friday right now. The first Friday back from the break. Sure, it was weird to be back at school after the break ended. But I'm glad it did, though. I had less time to write in that damned notebook. It's depriving me of doing work and sleep though…

Is the Death Note a blessing or gift? Or was it a curse? I don't know, but I can't eat, I can't sleep, and I can't think. Well. I can think, but the only thing on my mind is the fucking Death Note.

Again, I don't know if that's good or bad; probably bad. But at least it was something exciting, even though it's criminal at the same time.

"Are you writing more names now, Jenny?" A simple question that holds so much significance. I can't even begin to list what it all means.

I pause to answer her, "Yeah." and then continued to scribble down some names of criminals.

Why am I writing names of criminals too? That's what the original Kira did. … I hate to admit this, but that's the only thing that wouldn't make this completely wrong; That sense of justice.

Pen to the paper, eyes to the TV, other hand on the keys of my laptop; all of this is so stressful. Maybe I should just plan names. Or not even write them at all.

"… before I continue, do you have anything else to mention to me?" I whisper mindlessly. There's always the couple fine-prints I or any person would be too lazy to read.

Yuka was quiet for a moment. "Actually, yes." My hand stops writing and I wait for her to continue.

"The shinigami eyes – Eyes of a god of death. For instance, I can see your name and your lifespan by looking at you." That was to the point.

"… what's the price?" Something like that has to come at a price.

"Half of your remaining lifespan." I winced. I know we all must die one day, but half of the rest of my life? Inside, I've always wanted to have a long, healthy life.

"… I don't know," I answer. "I don't think I'd need it at this point." Why would I need that when I still have my TV, the internet, and my aunt mentioning criminals?

I can feel the death god smirk at me. "Suit yourself."

"… You probably won't answer this, but what's my remaining lifespan?" I tapped my pen on the desk.

"You are correct. I am telling you not." Damn. But whatever. Let it be more of a surprise whenever I die.

I went back to scribbling names down. Sighing, I bit my lip. Now that I think again, did those people actually deserve to die?

We're all innocent once. Most of the people in the world don't actually kill. But a lot of us do want people to die. In this world, we all commit sins. I may not be all that religious (plus the fact that I am Buddhist), but no one is pure or clean.

Fuck – Everything is in this world is hypocritical. People suck, I thought plainly. I facepalm'd to myself and shuddered. I hate that sudden bad feeling.

Maybe I should wean off of the killing. I kill about thirty or so people a day. I wonder what the first Kira thought. Probably that killing the scum of the world daily and steadily would make the people afraid and the bad people would go away eventually.

They were probably ambitious too, considering how many news broadcasts all the way from Japan were played and mentioned all the way here in America. Most likely planned a lot of things, also. I mean, all those news lasted for so long, years at that. It was like Kira was playing a game with the world.

But I don't want to a Kira. I'm not going to go so far for this. It really isn't worth it. It's too late now. I'm already too deep in. I could have burnt the notebook or gotten rid of it. But I didn't.

"... Yuka."

"Yes?" the god answered, throwing an apple up and down.

"Is there any way to get rid of the Death Note? Or return it?" I ask, spinning the pen in my hand.

"There is. There's quite a couple with different bits to it, too." I spun around to face her. "You can give up the Note and it will belong to me again. But in return your memory of all things concerning the Note will vanish."

"Sounds alright," I reply, thinking of possibilities of the things that will happen if I do forget. "Next one...?"

"You can burn or destroy the Death Note. Surely, all that paper will be wasted, but it is technically completely gone then. And I will leave also."

There's a small chance a small flake or scrap of it could be flying around or something. Ugh, well, at the least I have this information on hand.

I don't know if I want to continue usage of the Note or if I want to give it up now. I'll be bored again without it, but with it I'll probably become even more insane and maybe even get locked up. Whether it's because of the law or my own sanity.

"Meh," I murmur, sitting still, trying to make a quick decision. … It can wait till later. I place the pen down and put the notebook into my drawer and lock it.

I dig into a plastic bag aside my bed and handed Yuka a red apple before laying down.

There's no need to over-think about this and overwork myself. There's still time, even if something I don't want to happen, happens.

| I |

Thirty becomes twenty-five, afterward twenty. The one page become half a page, ten names become nine. Then eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, and one. And finally, zero.

If I'm unconsciously making a pattern, so be it. People who actually notice will think what they want to think.

Eventually, after a solid month of weaning off, the killings stopped. Yuka pestered me for a good day, and became bored too. Honestly, I was bored too. Oh well. Life goes on; I think you could say this was a phase.

Not really. But, anyways, lately, Anna was coming home later. It was every day since last Tuesday. I would have asked her why, but she would always come back around two in the morning. And, yes, I was awake at two am.

I guessed it was just a new case that came up that was difficult and time-consuming, but today, she came home at noon one day in early June and sobbed. She just cried and cried.

I'm horrible at comforting when people are crying, sobbing uncontrollably, etc.

I sat there and watched her cry and tried to say a few words and ask what was wrong, and she just laughed and kept crying. I couldn't understand what she was saying, but I caught a simple phrase.

My aunt, sprawled on the hard and cold wood floors sobbing, and I hear, "they think it's you." I froze up, and I went upstairs.

I won't scream, I just won't. I won't cry. I will not confess. I won't think. I can't sleep. Why can't I go to sleep. I haven't written anything in nearly two months. This paranoia won't go aw– no, it's nothing. It has got to be nothing.

Maybe it's about something else – Yeah, school or whatever. Maybe it's mom and dad and Frank. But it's definitely not that.

Not that I'm a murderer or a wannabe Kira.

I held my knees to my chest and bit my lip. Deep breaths, yes. One, one, two, two, three, three... Don't over-think, Jenny. It'll be the death of you. Just remain calm.

I stand up and go back down the stairs. It seems my aunt had stopped crying. I glanced into the kitchen and she was sitting in the same chair she always sits in, faced the same way she always is faced. Her eyes, that looking out the window, were red and her face was messy with smeared makeup and tear stains.

"Now that you seem more calm, I began, what was that you were saying? I tried to sound normal and casual. Just like a cautious, but not guilty, teenager in trouble.

"You seem so di-distant and introverted lately... I'm worried that something's wrong. The school notified me that you haven't been seen a lot and cutting people off... Pushing people away."

"Anyone can do whatever they choose to do," I said, "I'm not doing anything bad. Let me finish my school year out the way I want to."

"But, Jenny... You being in the top ranks, it worries your school so they think you should go to the counselor." And she went silent, and fidgeted with her fingers, awaiting my reply.

Like hell I'll go to a counselor, nonetheless, my own school's to help with my 'problems.' No one can really help anyways.

I repeated what I had just said again, and then added in, "Don't worry. I'm fine. I just want my space so I can relax. It's almost exam week and I can't even concentrate."

Well, that was true-ish. Again, a good lie is two parts truth, one part lie.

She just stared at my feet and was voiceless. I sighed and went back up to my room. I had nothing more to say, and she wouldn't say anything. So that was the end of that.

I heard Yuka giggled, with another apple in hand.

| II |

And that was the end of me and my aunt talking to each other like we used to. Now it was pretty much a bit of small talk every day or other day, depending on how much I saw her. I really don't see her often, either; She was just as preoccupied with that case as always.

I went through the last months of the school year, just slightly quieter. At home and at school. My friends stayed the same, and they try talking to me, too. I do feel a twinge of guilt when I push them away though. My grades were the same, maybe a point or so higher. I felt the same also, just more bored.

I haven't really gone out either. When I go to pick up groceries, sometimes I see a friend and we exchange a few words, but really just to be polite.

Sad thing that I really can't act the same way I used to. At the same time I'm a horrible liar too.

I hadn't written in the Note for a good time too. It was laying in my drawer as always. I had put it in a simple, cliche kind of hiding place after the minor quarrel. It was inside of a thicker book with a cut-in-hole for the note, and that book was under a couple more in my drawer which also had a lock.

Not that safe, but as a precaution, if anything happened and I was suddenly followed around constantly, or if I had a visitor or friend at home, if anyone besides myself had even opened the drawer, she would automatically take back the Note and my memories of it.

It wasn't the best plan, but when you're paranoid enough, it works. Besides, there's not a totally high chance that I'd even need to go through it. No one is ever in my room besides me and Yuka, obviously. Even the occasional friend that comes over is probably in my room for less than five minutes.

But I was never fond of people in my room. My comfort zone. And I'm not talking from a high horse or anything, but that's just how I am. I've always been like that.

I grabbed my iPod Touch from out of my backpack and turned on some music. I just need stop being so bored. They say people who are always bored are boring themselves. I kinda believe that, since I seem to be not that social (introverted as my aunt called me), or caring.

It's not confidential, I've got potential
Ready, let's roll onto something new
Taking its toll and I'm leaving without you
I'm ready, let's roll onto something new
'Cause heaven ain't close in a place like this
I said heaven ain't close in a place like this
Bring it back down, bring it back down tonight
Never thought I'd let a rumor ruin my moonlight –

I couldn't help but hum along to the song as I spun a pen in my hand. Even drawing is kinda boring now. What is with this creativity block? Meh. "Hey, Yuka. Nothing is going to happen to me if I don't write in the Death Note anymore, right?"

… Why didn't I ask this back when I first stopped? I felt my heart beat a little faster with realization of the possibility of death by not writing in the murder book.

"Not really. You can lose the ownership of it by losing it or having it stolen if you don't get it back in four-hundred ninety human days, but you won't die." the god of death answered plainly.

I sigh in relief. That's no problem then.

"Why don't you just give the Death Note back to me? It'd be easier and I'll be on my way. Even though the apples here are delicious, heheh." Yuka giggled at the thought of the fruit.

Hm... I do wonder why. Why am I still holding on to it anyways?

"Is that you still want to kill?" Another giggle erupted from the being. I could only hear her voice right now, strange, because I've been able to completely and always see her for a while now.

"... I don't think I do."

I'm not going to blame this on my subconscious or desires of any human being on that. Maybe I really do want to keep using it. Maybe I don't. Maybe I don't want to give up my memories of it.

"Whatever you say?" Her image appeared again and now I could see her laughing. Was I or any other human really that entertaining?

I turned on the TV and sighed again. Nothing good was on, and I didn't want to watch the news. … I think I might actually relapse back to writing names if I do watch it. … God dammit, did I just compare killing to a drug? There is no way that it was addicting to ruin lives and kill. Absolutely no way.

I realized my iPod was still playing and as I was turning it off, I hear a knock on my door.

Through the door, "Jenny? What are you doing? I called you and you didn't come down," was Anna.

Switching off the TV and turning off my music, I say, "Sorry, I couldn't hear anything." Obviously. I clicked open the lock on the door and face my aunt.

Home oddly early.

"Would you like to eat some dinner?" she said in a low tone. Maybe she was tired of sick. "I just got home and I brought back some food..."

"No thanks," I answered, and added in, "I'm not really all that hungry."

"Suit yourself?" the woman tried to add in a laugh of some sort to cut the tense air, and I almost sighed in frustration.

In actuality, I think I don't care for your company. I can't bring myself to. I may just be awkwardness, or maybe

I'm silently pushing you away for what could happen next.

AN; I'm suddenly thinking that if I make Yuka tell Jenny all of those rules and things, would it mary-sue her/me? Hmm. I hope not. Don't take that to mind, lol. I don't think I was wrong about any of the (official?) rules, but if I am, feel free to tell me!

And I was actually listening to 'Somebody Told Me' by the Killers. That exact line as I was typing it, so I looked up the lyrics and pasted the part that made sense-ish. I love that song, and I think it gives a taste of what could happen in future chapters, teehee.

Well, now I can finally continue. (: Till next time, readers.