"You're going to be okay, L! Come on, come on..."

I lead L to the edge of the road, or what I think is the edge of the road. It's past midnight, and most of the streetlamps are either dim or broken in this part of town, so it's hard to tell.

"Somebody help!" I scream. It's so quiet tonight, I can hear my voice echoing.

I lay him down, his head in my lap. He winces, and I try to be more gentle. I pull out my phone and call for an ambulance. I describe our location to the best of my ability before carelessly dropping my phone to the side. I pull my shirt off and use it to wrap L's wound.

It all felt so surreal. The figure in black, the screaming, the gunshot that hit L in the side. It all felt like a dream, and right now, it still does. I try to make myself wake up. This can't be happening.

I always thought the day L was gone, I would feel great. He was in my way of creating a new world, and when he was out of the way, I would be victorious. So why am I feeling like this?

It's almost funny in a twisted sort of way. L is the one who was shot, but I too am feeling the pain.

L's body is so warm against mine, and it would be comforting if he wasn't bleeding out on the sidewalk.

I hear the siren in the distance. L still seems conscious and in decent shape for the most part.

The ambulance screeches to a halt. The paramedics emerge and load L onto a stretcher. Everything is moving so fast around me, but I feel frozen in time.

They let me ride in the back of the ambulance with him. I avert my eyes from L, because I can't handle watching him desperately cling to life like this. I spend the long (or so it seems) ride to the hospital replaying the events over and over in my head. Another thought breaks through the vivid images in my brain, and I almost can't believe the thought was mine.

It should have been me instead.

L was my enemy. He wanted me dead; I wanted him dead.

We could have been friends in a different universe, perhaps. What would it have been like, to really be friends instead of just pretending? Does he think of me as a friend? Did he ever?

I hope he did, he was a lonely man.

I feel sick.

For the first time, I can see things from his point of view. Am I really nothing more than a murderer?

Months ago, days ago, I would have considered such an idea ridiculous. Of course I'm not just a murderer. I will be a god and cleanse the world.

Now, though? I'm not sure of anything.

They don't let me into his hospital room for a while, which is understandable. I don't want to see him in his condition, anyway.

My father and the rest of the investigation team are also here. No one says a word, not even Matsuda.

Hours pass, but no one moves, not even to go to the bathroom. You could cut the tension in here with a knife.

When they deliver the news, there's a scream. It sounds straight out of a horror movie, full of anguish.

It takes me a moment to figure out where it's coming from, but I realize the source of the noise is me. I drop to the floor.

"I'm sorry." The doctor says. "We did all we could."

What a cliche. You did all you could? I'll believe that when hell freezes over. No matter how much you try, you can always try harder.

They let us in to see him. He looks lifeless and his heart rate is decreasing by the minute.

Eventually, my father tells everyone to leave me alone with him, because I knew him better than anyone else did. Being handcuffed to a person does that for you, you learn everything about them.

I brush my hand through his thick, dark hair. It's softer than I expected it to be, and I really wish I would have more chances to touch it; to touch him.

"L...I'm sorry."

He doesn't talk. His skin is as cold as ice.

I put my hand on his shoulder.

"It wasn't your fault." He responds, forcing out the words.

I bury my head in the pillow next to him. This can't be happening. L can't be dying. This has to all be some big trick of him trying to prove that I'm Kira. It has to be.

"Thank you." He says.

"For what?" I ask.

"For being my friend. It meant the world to me."

I can see the life drain from his body and the heart monitor flat lines. The doctors rush in to take him away.

It kills me how they just don't care. It's their job, they've done it a million times before. They're used to it.

I guess that's ironic coming from me. I don't feel like Kira anymore, though. Just Light, and no one else.

The worst part is that there will be hardly anyone at his funeral. The role of L will be passed on to someone else.

In my head, I try to justify my actions. I try to feel like I thought I would when L was gone. I can't do it.

On the way out, I walk several feet behind all of the others. They think it's because I don't want them to see me cry, so they don't say anything.

Actually, it's because I don't want them to hear me when I whisper "get rid of it."