Author's Note: And so begins my first attempt at a fanfiction! As such, please be kind in pertaining to reviews so that I'll want to continue the story. I'm unsure as of yet the pattern to which I'll update so just keep an eye out. Until then, please enjoy! ***I do NOT own Death Note, only my OCs***

Chapter 1- Going To Sleep?

I sigh as I lean back from my most recent sketch. I had been commissioned to design a tattoo for one of my best friends. Working on it all day, I had managed to get it all drawn out and had been adding line weight with ink. I'm excited to show her the finished product, but it would have to wait until another time.

Flipping my phone towards me, I notice that it's about 2 in the morning. My sister, brother, and parent had gone to bed long ago. I stretch back, popping my spine in several places; I pause to listen to the sound bounce through the living room. I reluctantly minimize the page on which I had been re-watching Death Note. Like anyone who followed my tumblr knew, I am VAGUELY obsessed with the inhabitants of the Wammy House, but especially L and Near.

I'm not certain what draws me to those characters, but I'm sure it's a measure of camaraderie. Much like L, I sit in a strange way that drew attention from my classmates. My legs interlock over each other in what I'm sure is an acrobatic pose. I rarely eat anything due to having anorexia when I was younger. But most of all: like the both of them, I sit by myself in a corner, constantly working until I drop. I'm sure my reasons are different from theirs. Unlike them, I work until I drop from exhaustion in order to not think of certain things. Thinking leads to remembering, remembering leads to stress, stress leads to… well, I'm sure you'll run into that consequence in my story. Tag on a ridiculously excellent sense of hearing that makes me need to wear sound-canceling headphones with my three dogs around, a weak immune system, and an eerie knack for reading people and you have a formula for a social outcast.

Closing my laptop, I haul myself to my feet and begin shuffling to the old wooden stairs. I keep turning to check the shadows, shapes appearing and disappearing with my fluctuating paranoia. Feeling eyes on me, I quickly check that the front door is locked before taking the stairs at a jog. At one of the landings, I catch sight of the moon. I stare at the round orb, different thoughts flowing in and out my consciousness. Shaking my head, I realize I've been standing staring at the moon for a good 5 minutes. Silently thanking that no one had been around, I continue up the stairs.

Reaching the top, I cautiously approach the corner to the hallway, knowing what will meet me there. Peering around the corner to the hallway, looking both ways, I freeze. A tall, black silhouette stands at the end of the hall. I breathe in and out, staring it down before it disappears. I walk quickly to the room I share with my sister, closing the door behind me. Facing my bed, I sigh. No one else sees the anxiety-fueled hallucinations, but they have terrorized me since childhood.

I place my laptop next to my bed before I collapse upon the blue quilt sheets. "Ouch!" I hiss. I had forgotten about the clip I always spin my hair into while I'm working! I remember my 16 year old sister's sleeping for school the next day and I turn to her. She doesn't even stir; I remember that she wears headphones to listen to music at night and snicker at myself for my forgetfulness.

Everyone says that we look like twins, but I only see it to a point. Thinking about her, I can see why people know we're related. We both share the same olive complexion, brown eyes, brown hair (except I have a shade of red mixed in), same build, hell, even the same nose from our strong Italian heritage. Other than that, my sister is a lot prettier than I am. She is extremely funny and social, making friends wherever she goes. She's incredibly intelligent and a loyal friend. More than any of that: she's my best friend, always has been. I don't despise any of those traits that she has, in fact, I'm happy for her and push for her success! I hope that she will have more success than I.

My 13 year old brother looks different than us, but not ridiculously so. His brown hair curls into a large bush upon his head that I love. He also shares his brown eyes with us, but that's where the resemblance stops. His skin is a pale color that often earns him sunburns, his face covered in freckles. I see a lot of myself in his behaviors, but not to the extremes that I have. Shy at times, he will always try new things and is kind to everyone. His dexterity serves him well during the countless hours I spend playing video games with him. His loud recklessness makes it easy for me to win, but I worry about when he figures out the strategy of stealth, because then I'll have to start actually trying to beat him!

Sitting up, I reach behind me and release the cascade of loose red-brown curls that reach just below my shoulder blades. Combing through the strands, I stare at the slowly spinning fan on the ceiling. Not even bothering to change clothes, I pray the darkness of sleep takes me quickly. My last thoughts turn to my favorite Death Note characters, wondering how they live with such strange quirks because I'm having such a hard time. Someone up there must have heard my prayer because my mind clouds over and I am lost.