Chasing Broken Dreams ~A Death Note Fanfic~

Chasing Broken Dreams /*Chapter 1*\

I tossed and turned frantically in my bed for at least 5 minutes before stopping and letting out a deep sigh, but I instantly regretted it as a sharp pain blossomed in my abdomen. I shot up and gripped my stomach before leaning over the side of my bed and spilling out my dinner into the small bucket. Well, there goes the only thing that kept me from starving.

He must've given me molding bread. And I wondered why it tasted like dirt. I gasped softly and waited for the disgusting burning sensation to leave my throat. When it finally did, I sat back up right at looked at my glowing watch.

1:30 a.m.

Wonderful. Note the sarcasm.

I slipped off my small make-shift bed and pressed my ear to the door. Silence. Perfect. I quietly unlocked the door and poked my head out, looking around. Empty. Even more perfect. I slipped out, leaving the door open and tip-toed into the living room/kitchen/dining room.

My blood ran cold when I saw a large shape sitting on the recliner in front of the TV that was on some stupid boxing channel. Snoring drowned out the voices of the commenter's from the TV. I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding in. He was asleep. Good.

I made my way to the cupboard as quietly as I could and opened it. I stopped instantly when it creaked. Shifting came from the room I was just in. Then a voice.

"Whatzzit? Whozthere?"

I shut my eyes tightly and waited for the footsteps. Silence. I opened one eye. More silence. The other eye. Snoring. Thank all that is good. I reached into the cupboard and took out a pop-tart. The wrapper made a loud crinkling noise. I instantly shut the cupboard as quickly and as quietly as I could and tip-ran back to my small room, shutting the door loudly. I flinched at the loudness and threw the pop-tart under my pillow before diving onto my bed and covering myself, pretending to be asleep.

I bet you're confused. I couldn't blame you. So let me explain. My name is Aisuru Yume. It means loving dream. Indian, isn't it? Well, it wasn't my choice so hush. Anyway, the 'large shape' as you read, was my father. He's not the greatest man in the world. Actually, he's probably the worst.

And for any of you looking for a nice little story that ends with a happy ending, yeah, no. It probably will end up sad. So if you don't like it, don't read. But back to the problem at hand here, I just stole a pop-tart right? If you say yes, hooray, gold star for you. And at the beginning, I puked up my dinner, right?

Good, let's hope you're following me so far. So my family was full a few years back. I had a wonderful mother. I swear she was the nicest woman in the universe. Then, I had a little sister, sweet as can be. I even had an older brother.

Sounds like a nice life, right? It wasn't. Let's put this in an not-so-bad way. When I was nine, I woke up, went upstairs to see my mom. Guess what I saw? I saw her lying on the ground, covered in bruises and cuts, and lying in a puddle of her own blood. Wonderful thing for a nine year-old to see, don't you think?

I went to tell my older brother, only to find him and all his stuff gone. Not even a letter to explain his sudden disappearance. But that's not all my dear people, I go to the living room to find my father passed out on the couch with a sake bottle in his hands that was tilted and spilling onto a knife covered in blood. Have you figured it out yet?

Yep. My father murdered my mother. People are soo wonderful. And guess what happened a year later? He killed my little sister in front of my eyes. And when I went to the police, they turned me away, thinking I was some brat wanting attention. One officer even told my father. So I was abused! Hooray for me. Again with sarcasm. The only reason i'm not dead is because he kept me around for cleaning purposes. Yes, he was a slob. A low-life murdering slob.

But to the present we come. I'm now 18. We just moved to a new town in Japan. Well, not exactly justmoved. We've been here for a few months. Long enough to hear about Kira. Personally, i'm kind of rooting for him. Why? Because i'm praying that he'll take care of my father. And i'm scheduled to start school tomorrow. Whoopee. I get to meet a whole bunch of people who will turn against me. Wonderful.

So now you know about me. Let's get back to the story, shall we?

I heard heavy footsteps heading towards my so-called room. Oh no, I forgot to lock the door properly. I'm so dead. The door shot open, letting in light from the hallway. I mentally cursed myself for being so careless.

"Get. Up." The gruff voice of my father commanded. I pretended to be woken up and looked at him groggily. I'm pretty good at acting if I might add before I get killed. "Y-Yes?" I questioned, rubbing my eyes. A rough, beefy hand wrapped around my throat and slammed me against the wall. Yep, that's gonna bruise. I made the mistake of looking into his dark black eyes that probably held the devil himself. Oh, who am I kidding? He is the devil. "Don't look at me!" He hit me across the cheek while letting go of my throat. So I went flying into the other wall and I slid to the ground. Ow. That hurt.

He kicked me in my side, causing me to grunt in pain. "Don't. EVER. Wake me up again. Understood?" He shouted at me, grabbing my left arm and bending it backwards. I gritted my teeth and shut my eyes. "Yes."

He dropped me roughly onto the ground and stormed out, slamming the door behind him so hard, it nearly broke off its hinges.

I kept my eyes shut and curled into a ball slowly and tried to keep my breathing steady. But oh, how it hurt. My father suddenly came back in and grabbed my by my wounded arm and dragged me out of the room and to a large titanium door. He opened it sharply, revealing a dark, dark passageway. I was tossed in carelessly and I tumbled down at least 20 hard concrete stairs until I hit the ground. It was cold. Really cold.

I was in a cellar. The door suddenly slammed shut, encasing everything in darkness. It's too dark. It's WAY too dark. I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the searing pain in my leg. Yep, it's broken.  I looked around, but couldn't see anything through the curtains of darkness. I began to freak out. Look, I was not good with darkness or small spaces. I don't mix with those two things.

I limped around frantically until I hit a corner. Slumping down in it, I began to hyperventilate. No, no, no. Please not a panic attack. My hands covered my mouth in an attempt to calm my rapid breathing, but I just freaked out even more.

White spots began to fill my vision. I felt myself hit the cold floor before the white spots suddenly went dark.

And that's when I lost consciousness.