The Critical Puzzle Piece (A Death Note Short) [DISCONTINUED]

Stolen

(A/N): This short story contains a lot of sexual content, harsh language, and dark themes manifested through upsetting situations so this is a warning if any of those things bother/upset you. There are mentions of suicide as well as other dark situations. However, I hope you enjoy the story nonetheless and thank you for your continuous support. Enjoy.

Below will be the time setting which contains a lot of spoilers. It may also contain information only found in my fanfic, but it will be explained so if you don't want to read through to get every reference, you don't have to but it wont be very fun seeing the Easter Eggs. 

Setting: This is set around the time L died; it's four years before Near and Mello enter the investigation so the heroine is around fourteen years old. 

     This is my story. You may say it's pathetic, disturbing, and you might not even get through the whole thing. But I know that at this rate, no one is going to know the truth of everything I did, who I did, or anything in between. They're gonna say I was a martyr, an investigator, but I know that society will say I was dumb as shit because I didn't even complete high school but others may think I was the most dangerous woman to ever enter this investigation. As you're reading, you may think that I should've left the first chance I had but I ask you: where the fuck would I go? I probably could've prevented my death, but it had nothing to do with me being smarter. Emotions are a fucked up thing; they keep you attached when all you want to do is break free. And that's what happened.

      This is my life. Uncensored. For the world to see.

        "Sweetie, you need to get up." My dad's voice punctured my vivid dream; it was one of the most interesting that I've had in a while. I honestly thought it was time for my private lessons with my etiquette teacher and I had slept in, but when I opened an eye, it wasn't anywhere near eight o'clock.

        "Dad?" My voice was coarse and leaked of drowsiness. I wiped some of the drool off the side of my face and faced him. His usually neat, dark brown hair was disheveled and his white work shirt was unevenly buttoned. In his arms was a brief case, "Where's mom?"

        "She's, um, waiting for us." He said while constantly kept checking behind his back as if something were following him.

        "Can it wait until morning? I went to bed an hour ago; sorry for going past my bed time." I sounded like a child. The only reason I had a said "bed time" was because my teacher said that I should get at least nine hours of sleep which meant I had to go to bed at nine every night.

        "No honey, we have to go now." He then physically ripped me out of bed; I was only wearing a black camisole and white pajama pants.

        "Dad, that hurts, cut it out! Are you drunk again?" I squirmed out of his grip, pulled my arm back and adjusted the hem of my camisole. I pushed some of my burgundy hair away from my honey colored eyes.

        "No, Melanie! This is serious! Now just listen to me and--." He never got to tell me what to do next. There was a creak from the floorboards just outside my room.

        "CHARLES!" It was a deep voice and it was headed straight towards us. I looked at my father whose face was covered in sweat.

        "Hide under the bed now!" He harshly whispered and I quickly obliged. I crawled under the bed and turned my head so that I had a practical view of the situation. Two men came in by busting down the door with just their shoulders. I pulled in my legs closer to make myself smaller. Unfortunately, my plan made the bed creak, but the men were so focused on my father that they barely noticed.

        "Charles, Ross is looking for the money." I watched as one of the men's eyes drifted towards the briefcase within my father's embrace, "I see." He said and then flicked two fingers from the door to the room. I held my breath and waited.

        "I'm sorry, but I can't give you the money." My father said and though he should have sounded defiant, his voice shook like an earthquake.

        "Ross doesn't like waiting." The man said. He was fairly young with long, white blond hair that reached just below his shoulders. He was wearing a gray buttoned up shirt with the collar up with a pair of black pants as well as matching shoes. His other companion was very similar with hair though his was a bit darker, like a faded yellow blond. His hair was only shoulder length and he wore spectacles. He wore, instead of a gray buttoned shirt, it was a dark plum purple and black pants and matching shoes as well.

        "Are you two talking about me?" Another man came into the picture and I could immediately tell that he was this Ross that they were talking about. He was a very bulky man and he wore a complete suit, contrasting his comrades. He was bald but has stubble along the part above his top lip as well as a small beard. He wore a black buttoned shirt, collar down with a yellow tie and a gray jacket with black pants and shoes.

        "Rod Ross," my father had never held anything so close in his life than he was holding that dumb silver brief case, "I'm sorry but I can't pay you the money."

        "Really, Charles?" Rod Ross said and gave a deep, hearty laugh as he pointed towards the brief case, "It seems that you already have what I need. I mean, you did take some of Jack's stash." Are they talking about drugs? My head was swirling but I had no time to think or move. I just had to stay put and not move a muscle.

        "Take anything you want, but I'm in a bit of a fix and I need the money." How long have we been in debt? We were one of the richest families in California for my family's profession was with film directing and producing movies. How could we be broke?

        It had to be my father's fault with his drinking and all of a sudden he became a druggie, at least to my knowledge. I closed my eyes and counted to ten before I heard the worst thing in my life.

        "You see, I have a daughter." My father offered and I couldn't help but look at him horrified, "She's almost fifteen and she's grown up to have quite a mature body." I closed my eyes and turned my head away, "I'm sure that you'll find use of her."

        To my horror, this Rod Ross actually took this into consideration, "Let me see her." He said and my father went towards the bed. I scuffled to the other side and got out from under the bed. I glanced to the balcony door but the man with the spectacles had taken refuge in front of it.

        "What do we do with her, boss?" The one with the gray shirt said and Rod put a finger to his defined cheekbone.

        "Slow down, Zakk. She's only, what, fourteen. Give her two years." Rod smirked and my father grabbed my arm to push me towards the man.

        "If you take her, will you forget about my debt?" My father inquired Rod. I sniffed some tears away and looked at my father, wanting to cry more than I already was.

        "Deal." Rod said and I whimpered. I was almost certain that this was all a dream and I never really woke up when my father told me to. Rod grabbed my arm as my father let go without hesitation. Rod quickly then pulled up a gun and shot my father right through the head. I couldn't help but let out a blood curdling scream, "Grab it." He pointed to the sliver briefcase with blood spatter on it. The man, Zakk, grabbed it and kept it close and Rod pulled me closer, "You're going to be very useful." He whispered closely to my ear but my eyes never left the cold corpse of my father.