Death Note

001

The bell rang, and it was finally time to leave for the day. All the exams were making the kids jumpy. Harry stands up from his seat and begins placing notebooks in his backpack.

"Harold," the teacher speaks up, "You're a bright young lad, make sure to study for finals tonight."

"Yes, of course." Harry smiles politely and makes his way out of the class room.

He turns down the hall and trudges out of the school. He was tired, as usual. His methods of studying consisted of staying up until late at night, cramming for finals and entrance exams. He had to get into a great uni. In fact, it was expected of him. He was at the top of his class, one of the most intelligent students in almost the whole district.

"Hey! Watch where you're fucking going!" another boy yells as he slams his shoulder against Harry's.

"Sorry." Harry mumbles.

Everyone was so rude. Harry couldn't change that though. Some people just happened to be...bad. Harry just keeps his mouth shut and keeps his head down.

He continues down a small concrete path. The same way home for years, memorized like the back of his hand. Before he knows it, he is walking up his front porch steps and unlocking the front door.

"Mum, I'm home!" he shouts, but gets no reply.

His mother is usually running errands at this time, so it's really no surprise that he is alone. Even his sister has places to go with friends after school. Harry shrugs off his coat and hangs it up by the door way. He brings his bag with him upstairs to his room and locks the door.

"Time to study." he sighs and plops into a seat at his desk.

He turns on the small tv to a news station and takes out a book. Only a few minutes pass before the television noise has faded and Harry is deep in his studies.

It was the same, boring routine everyday. Nothing ever changed. He barely saw his friends anymore, let alone have time to talk to them or hang out. There were no times for him to go on dates, or spend time with family. His father worked hard as the Chief of Police, and was barely home anyways.

This was Harry's life, and he supposed it was as good as any other life he could have. Any other life he could create. Would he change it if he could? Maybe.

After only a few moments, Harry looks up at the screen of his small television. The news station was always running, talk of murderers and their faces flash across the screen. Harry leans back in his seat, kicking his feet up on the desk. A photo of a man crosses Harry's view.

"Killed his wife and daughter at the scene, we are here with local police officers trying to digest what happened at this horrific incident." a new reporter speaks.

"People are disgusting." Harry scoffs and clicks the remote to turn off the screen.

Harry sighs and opens a new text book. Same thing every night. Every single night.