𝐃𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓 - 𝐿. 𝐿𝑎𝑤𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑡 ♘

𝟎𝟏𝟎.

❝ some may call it 𝒂 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆 ❟ a life 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆. ❞

────────  CHIYO'S PIN-STRAIGHT, insipid brown hair cascaded underneath her, catching the fear driven drops of perspiration that started to pool right above her navel, cooling her down. She lay in her bed, choking on the fear that twisted in her gut, bunching up her stomach with torturous efficiency and squinting painfully into the night. The forced recollection of her worst moment had left her weak to her own pains, the imaginary but still very remarkable wounds robbed Chiyo of something, even if they had not been fresh. It took Chiyo several minutes to level her crazed breath, to remember where she currently was because although safe she could no longer afford to relive a trauma she wasn't even supposed to have remembered. Nor was she supposed to have remained here, returning to consciousness again, returning to life as always. 

Chiyo slumped over in her bed, clawing softly at her burning wounds as she fought to adjust her thin night dress, bringing the fabric over her legs, although it did nothing to cool her from the fever dream nor warm her from the cold anguish that- for one, long moment -made her believe she was dead again. The girl softly sobbed into her pillow, twisting until the pain subsided and she could do nothing but stare into the dark with hatred, bitter from defeat. Her cried were ones of pure frustration and anger that had been brought upon by the memory of seeping blood spilling in large quantities onto those dirtied floors and her begs for mercy, a complete upheaval of humiliation. The invasive rays of moonlight that scattered onto her skin upon contact blended in with her sickly pale; her hair a brown so light it might've been considered blonde if it weren't for its reddish hue; just vivid enough to tawny her hair but not darken it. Her steely grey, red rimmed eyes glared hatefully at the darkness, she was made up of light shades of yellow and orange; her skin was a yellowing pale and her lips pallid and cracked. 

Chiyo's skin was fair in many ways but she felt for a moment startlingly angular, sharp and hauntingly familiar. What she had been- who she had been -had all been cut from a sharp and dangerous cloth but now it was colorless and frayed cotton cloth, sullied with loss. Chiyo slowly rose from her bed, toppling out of it and onto the wooden floors, gulping in lungfuls of air as she shakingly brought herself to her knees. Slowly rubbing the skin of her neck leaving behind a strip of violent red and irritated skin across her throat, a pain that lulled her back to her senses for a moment; finding a sick comfort in the repeated harsh, deliberate kneading motion. 

The girl curled her toes momentarily before raising her hands to clutch her hair forcefully, latching onto it roughly. Poor little Chiyo's adulations of running from her past could not shield her from the sheer tragedy of her existence, the realization angered her beyond comprehension as she kneeled on the floor, her poise replaced with a hunched posture. She was there, she was always there; in that room, there with him. The company was unwelcomed, her thoughts rushed and unfiltered. Maybe there had been a hope she would find consolation in the warmth she had surrounded herself in, but it might've left her to endure even more in her long-lasting grief. Who could she call for? She was too lost in her own terror to do nothing but grit her teeth as Chiyo felt the aching in her heart grow flagrant and culpable. How undefeatable she had seemed, although Chiyo's reality was nothing short but a reminder of her own weakness. 

These thoughts grew more prevalent as her eyes blinked uncontrollably with unwanted moisture, her tears barely registered while Chiyo fought stubbornly to regain control over her mindless wheezing spell. Soon Chiyo became soundless in her despair, her breath labored and hot. Chiyo's misery slowly started to cool down as she did, her thoughts grew more incoherent but the melancholy declined in potency until it's intensity almost completely ceased. Dragging herself to her tottering feet, Chiyo unsteadily pushed until she entered her bathroom, flicking on the lights and blinding herself with its fluorescence before slowly bringing herself to the sink- unable to look into the mirror, her breath growing more intense as she tried not to cry at the anxious disgust and confusion flickering in her heart, no not yet- knowing no longer could she handle looking into her own eyes. 

Instead the girl pitifully entertained her own cowardice and glared at her feet. Her gutless eyes continued to gaze at the tear blurred sight of the ground beneath and this cowardice became so drawn out she could do nothing but clench her fists and shift her eyes to the large mirror before her, trying to ignore the knowledge of that blasted Death Note hidden in the overhead lamps. 

The sight of her married neck, disorderly and greasy hair, and brutal reddish eyes caused her to pause her scrutiny. Shutting her eyes tight, Chiyo ignored the stinging feeling and instead focused on her heart beat, it's lazy drums assuaging her mournful thoughts. Suddenly flicking off the light switch; the girl left the bathroom and quietly crawled into her bed, retreating within her own warmth as those teeth chattering sobs began to lessen. She disregarded her moisture filled eyes, blaming it on the yawn that escaped from her chapped lips. Soon a genuine calm washed over her,  the serenity partly because she was tired and also due to the cold of the dark night soothing her pains. No longer gritting her teeth; Chiyo grew tired and unlike the hysterical bout she had recovered from, poor little Chiyo quit feeling sorry for her revivalistic life for a single second, which proved enough for her body to drowsily relax into a depressive slumber.

Unedited.