Woop! I am back and here is the first re-write instalment of my Death Note fan fic! I've tweaked a few things here and there, but I've tried to follow the same things that happened in the old version.

I hope you like it and please review if you do!


Inside every happy face and every note of laughter is a frown. There is always pain inside a person. Normally it's within the person who seems the most happy with life. They constantly fight the impending darkness attempting to swallow them up, but it's futile, for the battle rages on inside them. Sometimes the soul who fights this seems content. The whole 'I don't care what people think about me' vibe radiates off of them at a high intensity. That was the case for me; Mihael Keehl.

That was my name; Mihael Keehl, but some kids in school began to nickname me 'Mello' because I guess I seemed so... mellow about everything. I was never on anyone's side in a fight and I tried my hardest to keep focused on my studies. Every student and teacher alike thought nothing bothered me so they would constantly pick at me, comment on everything about myself just to try and get a reaction. Children would tease me about the way my blonde hair fell in a slight wave on my shoulders; they could taunt me about the rosary I wore around my neck, they could bully me and bring me down just because they knew I wouldn't retaliate. But in a weird way, I kind of liked the nickname; it made me feel a little normal; unlike my real name. I didn't like who I was, so it made me forget, and helped me carve a new life so to speak.

The dam in my mind was cracked and although people thought nothing could bother me... the truth was... everything did. Things hurt me in a way that wasn't visible to the human eye. Though I hate to admit it, nearly every night I would silently cry myself to sleep in the room I shared with nobody.

I was suffering and only I knew. I didn't confide in anyone, I knew they wouldn't listen; besides my pride wouldn't let me. Okay so it wasn't as though I had never tried to talk to someone. A long time ago, quite often I used to make my way to the top room of the orphanage I stayed in to visit the occupier. The character that lived up there was seldom seen as he would lock himself in his room for days on end. But there wasn't anything stopping a child to go up and visit the strange man.

However, it seemed that every time I went up there for some comfort, somebody else would be there. And it was always the same kid, the one I hated the most. His name was Nate Rivers and for the life of me, I couldn't stand him. The way he acted, how he dressed and the way his monotonous voice droned on in class made my blood boil with rage and jealousy.

So naturally it made me furious to find the smug, white rat with the man upstairs. And it was the same every time; I would climb a countless number of stairs to the top, peek through the crack in the door, false hope and naivety rushing through my veins that maybe the young man would be alone. But it was to no avail. The raven haired man would be sitting in the same chair in an awkward position, feet bare, some sort of sweet hanging from his mouth and a pure haired idiot sitting in his lap. They would be chatting away to each other, comfortable in their own little bubble. Before long I forbade myself from going up there.

A few more years passed and I still avoided the top room, in fact I avoided everyone. I had changed. No longer did I stay neutral in a fight, now I was violent and cruel to the other children. If nobody cared about me then why should I care about anyone else? My anger intensified and I took it out on other people. Screaming, shouting, stealing, punching and cursing were now a part of my life, they became my best friends. The relatively peaceful days of the orphanage had worn thin. The floorboards would crack like thunder as I stormed around, lashing out violently at anybody who challenged me. But I loved it. However despite the violence and havoc I caused, I still prayed. I won't tell a soul but there were times when I still cried wept for a saviour.

So, it became a bit of a surprise one night, when my door was opened and three figures stood in the doorway. I stared at them in curiosity, one was tall and old whom I recognized as Roger; one of the most important people in the orphanage. Then there was another man, he had raven, black hair and was standing in a slouched manor and one of hands was holding that of a smaller person whom I didn't recognize at all.

Roger switched the light on and I glared at him, initiating a staring contest between him and myself. My eyes narrowed even more as the old man gave in, stepped back and closed the door behind him, with a mutter under his breath, which caught my unavoidable attention.

'What's that, Old Man? Why don't you say it to my FACE?' I shouted after him, fury burning in my skull. A slight cough bought my attention back to the situation and the two left in the room with me.


And we end it there for today :D!
Again, please review if you liked it and thank you for reading!