Dr. Phillip silently handed me a box of tissues from the desk beside his chair, obviously spotting the tears that brimmed in my eyes I'd been trying to hide. I didn't open my mouth to deny the tissues or even to mumble a 'thank you', just took one out and wiped my eyes with a sigh. I was glad that Dr. Phillip was the one to interview me with a camera like this, since all my past doctors were either too nosey, too happy, or too just plain out annoying. They kept trying to get inside my head, but in the most obvious and... Annoying way possible. Dr. Phillip was successful at doing what all the others failed to achieve: Getting answers without too many questions. Or, to put it simply, he just wasn't annoying in my eyes.

He could also tell that A was a subject I'd be happy to steer clear of, so he cleared his throat and swiftly moved on. "You've mentioned your eyes a few times. I also heard quite a few rumors around the asylum from the fellow staff and even patients about them.. But only you know the truth. So tell me about them?" My doctor asked with a small polite smile. Not one of those wide grins the others would try to make me smile as well, but just enough to encourage me on. Make me comfortable.

"My eyes. My Shinigami eyes." I smirked proudly, chewing on the inside of my bottom lip and balling up the tissue in my right hand. "I can see human's names and lifespans above their heads. I know when everyone will die. Except myself." I allowed my crimson red eyes to shine vibrantly on command, one of the many cool perks I had from being half Shinigami, and half human. My vision was heightened, I could make them flash vibrantly whenever I wanted, I could stare into the sun all day, and could even see in the dark. I told Dr. Phillip all this, and he took notes of every word I said, though he didn't pressure me into giving away his lifespan. He only asked once, and I did not respond. I never told anyone their lifespan. I wasn't about to start today. Even if he was probably the last person that would ever ask.

"How did you get these eyes, BB? Were you born with them?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. I exhaled slowly, absentmindedly ripping up the tissue that was once balled up in the palm of my hand. "I told you. My Dad was a Shinigami. A Death God, living up in the Shinigami realm." I pointed up to the ceiling with the hand that didn't clutch my tissue. "And my Mom was a human. I am the only known example of a half Shinigami and a half human. And when I die, I will get to join my Father as a Shinigami too." I grinned, excitement in my crimson hues from the thought. Though I knew once I was a Shinigami, I'd receive my own Death Note, and would be able to return to the human world whenever I decided to drop it. I just couldn't kill humans with my special knife anymore.. What a shame.

"I see.." Of course Dr. Phillip looked extemely doubtful, though he didn't say anything. His job was only to provoke me to speak more for the video, and nothing else. And people should know better than to attempt to get me to change my story. "You've never met your Father before, right? He left when you were born." I nodded in clarification. "Yes. I lived with my Mother up until age three, when she died in the train incident. I was then brought to Wammy's house."

Dr. Phillip nodded, glancing briefly down at the clipboard in his left hand, and the ballpoint pen in his right. He pressed the tip of the pen to a new page, as if he was preparing to write. "Tell me about your Mother. Anything at all. Nothing is known about her. Not even her name."

I was silent for a moment, as if I was trying hard to remember her name. But of course I did. How could I forget? The first name I ever knew, even before my own.

"Kazumi Ryuzaki."

Flashback

My Father could no longer stay in the human world once I was born, since the Shinigami king forbid him to. What he did was wrong, and could easily be punished. Though he promised to stay away from us, and he is already almost as important as the king in the realm. That was what my Mom told me. Even at the age of three, even with how young and innocent one could picture me as, I still understood everything and anything she said.

The name I was given was Rue.

Rue means to regret.

I didn't have the best childhood, no surprise there, though I didn't have the worst either. I suppose we could've been poor, living on little to no money and food stamps, with my Mom working at some strip club to keep paying the bills. I could've been physically or sexually abused by someone close to me, or ended up living out on the streets, which didn't ever happen either. So one might say I should've considered myself lucky.

I don't ever remember receiving presents from my Mother, and even though we were a Christian family, I didn't even know what Christmas or Easter was. Or any holiday for that matter.

Well.. I shouldn't say that. I did know Halloween, but that was only because Halloween and my birthday are on the same day. Yet another reason to prove to people what a demon I really was.

I loved Halloween. Not just because it was my birthday, but the whole holiday itself was such fun to me. Dressing up in costumes, getting candy, scary spirits or monsters lurking about.. As a child, I was obsessed with horror movies or books or anything scary. I didn't ever go trick or treating while I lived at home with my Mom, but once I got to Wammy's, things changed. I got to dress up in costumes and go out for candy with A, although he hated whenever I scared the younger children off and laughed about it.

I first found out about Christmas once reaching Wammy's as well, and A was extemely surprised when I had no idea what the holiday was. We watched the other children and adults decorate the tree, neatly wrapping boxed shaped presents and placing them on the rug beneath it. A got me a present every year. The first year I didn't realize what Christmas really was, and ended up being empty handed, but every year after that got better than the last.

And isn't that sad? I received presents from A before we really got to know eachother, and none from my own mother. What a shame. But also something I didn't necessarily care about at the time.

What I did care about, was how she treated me. She was afraid of me, and didn't try to hide it at all. I think she was glad I didn't have Shinigami wings, and could still hear my footsteps almost silently walking down the hallway. She stocked up on jars of strawberry jam for me, and didn't make me use a spoon to eat it either, though she always put two locks on the knife drawer, after realizing I could still get in with only one lock.

"Mommy.. Are you scared of me?" I asked her one day, licking strawberry jam off my fingers with the open jar in my lap. She stared back at me for a moment, as if she was shocked this question came to my mind, before laughing lightly and shaking her head. What a good liar. "No, Rue, Mommy isn't scared of you. Why would you say such a thing?" She didn't wait for an answer though, ruffling my hair a bit and walking quickly into the kitchen. Did she check to see if all the knives were still there? I don't know. But I did hear a drawer or two open without even having to look in her direction. If she wasn't scared of me, why would she lock my door every night, and her own as well? Why would she have such a fearful look in her brown eyes whenever I played with one of the knives, or twirled it between my fingers? Why did she ever think her own child would intentionally hurt her? To this day, I still believe there were some things that occurred before I was born that I will never know.

I used to have nightmares a lot more often than dreams as a child. I would wake up crying in the middle of the night, hugging my stuffed bear to my chest and calling out for 'Mommy'. She'd unlock the door to enter my room and sit on the edge of my bed, pulling me into her lap and hugging me close. "It's okay, Rue.. Mommy's got you.. It's okay.. It's not real, just a nightmare.." She rarely asked what they were about, for fear that they would either become true, or be too dark and evil for her to comprehend. As if having red eyes made me Satan's spawn. Though it was moments like that, being hugged and assured that I was safe and sound, that I will cherish and remember until the day I die. I just wish I was treated that way all the time by my Mother.

"Mommy.. How come we don't have any pictures of Daddy?" I asked one day after lunch, my legs swinging back and forth slowly from where I sat on the couch, the remote control to the TV in her hand. I don't remember what it was that we were watching.. Though I assume it was a cartoon she deemed suitable for me to watch. "Um.." She thought for a moment, glancing over towards a picture frame of just me and her, as he tried to word her answer correctly. Of course I now understand that Shinigami cannot be captured on camera, but back then, I wouldn't have understood even if she told me. "I'm not sure, Rue. I suppose Daddy never really liked taking pictures." She smiled slightly, a saddened expression on her facial features.

Like most children, I was very curious and always asked questions about anything that came to mind. And like most children, I wouldn't stop until I received a proper answer. "What was Daddy like? Why isn't he here with us? When can we visit him? Where does he live now?" I loved to ask questions about my Dad, because I loved when she gave me answers for them. She told me my Dad was special, and that he wasn't human like the rest of us. I asked if she was a monster, and she looked shocked at my choice of words, but quickly shook her head to explain to the best of her ability.

She said my Father was living in a realm of people like his own kind, the Shinigami. She told me Daddy had to leave once I was born, and though we technically met, I never got to see him. She said Daddy was watching over me right now, and pointed up to the ceiling. That was how I assumed the Shinigami realm must have been somewhere in the clouds, picturing it like another Heaven. But no, the Shinigami realm and Heaven cannot possibly look anything alike.

"One day.. One day Daddy will come back. One day you two will meet. Of course, he can't stay, but.. He will visit. I just know it." My Mother gave a small hopeful smile, which was enough to end the conversation and send me running off to play with my toys. But he never visited. Not once. And never will. I always wonder if he's still alive up there, and I hope he is. Because I won't truly feel complete until I meet him, even if it's only for a brief moment.

When I saw my Mother die, it was quite traumatic. Though I can honestly say, as messed up as it might sound to anyone watching this video, that it didn't come close to upsetting me as much as Aiden's death did. Even though they were both suicides.

The day before her death happened, I asked why the numbers above her head were decreasing drastically. She didn't know how to respond that first, probably because you shouldn't necessarily tell your child you were planning to commit suicide the next day, but she only responded to my question with a completely unrelated statement. "We're going to the train station tomorrow, okay? You're going to wait by the wall so you won't get hurt, and don't go anywhere near the train tracks, understand? You wouldn't want to fall."

But that was exactly what she did. She threw herself in the train's path, as I watched my crying mother get flattened underneath the wheels. Needless to say there was an immediate panic, and a man who'd been watching me earlier knew that I was her son.

That man was Quillish Wammy. Known to the world as Watari.

When a nice old man came up to me to steer me away from what seemed like such a threatening crowd, I held no protest and allowed him to take my hand, following him in whichever direction. "You look a lot like another child I know, did you know that?" He chuckled, looking me up and down. Back then, I had no idea what he was talking about, only shaking my head and staring up at him with curious crimson eyes. But I do now. I reminded Watari of L. He told me it was not only that, but a strong instinct, that led him to take me to the orphanage.

At first I was taken to one of Watari's normal orphanages, one where testing went on to see which kids would go to Wammy's with the rest of L's possible successors, and which would stay here. I passed with flying colors, and on only the second day without my mom, was sent off to live at Wammy's Institution. I was perfectly okay with this, trusting the man who seemed to be the only person ever who didn't judge me on my red eyes. If he treated me like any other human, I should trust him, right? And that was exactly what I did.

On my fifth day there...

I met him.

L.