Charming Criminal | Light Yagami ✓

Charming Criminal [11]

The night was frosted with moonlight. A pale mist rolled down the road, weaving into impossible illusions, shadows tiptoeing along the walls of the houses, dancing around your ankles, nipping sharply at your heels. You walked down the street with a hurried pace, hands stuffed loosely in your pockets, eyes to the ground. The sky was charcoal, the bottom of a well, the watch on your wrist pointing to little past nine o'clock. You'd been to see a movie with Light and turned down his persistent offers to walk you home. Now part of you wished you hadn't.

It was a few streets later when you realised you were being followed. Footsteps ghosted the pavement behind you, as if someone was trying too hard not to be heard. Paranoia tiptoed into your chest and gave your throat a tight squeeze, your ears filling with a rush of blood. You tensed your fists, trying to keep your breathing calm and look for anyone to help you, but the street was empty.

All of a sudden, the footsteps became louder - he wasn't trying to hide anymore - and you got ready to run when-

"Ugk."

It was a cross between a grunt and a gurgle, as if the sound had gotten caught in his throat, yet something about it made you freeze.

"Ugh-ghhhh."

You dashed round in a circle as they began to groan louder behind you, a sound so thick with pain that it made your own heart spasm and convulse in your chest, as if someone had reached inside and held your heart in their fist and was now squeezing all the life out of it. You blinked, momentarily confused by what you were seeing.

A man in a black tracksuit was on his knees, a few paces away, clawing at his chest with harsh, gasping breaths, as if something was burrowing inside him and he was trying to tear it out. A knife lay by his side, the metal wicked and bone white, discarded.

You staggered back, flooded with panic and fear and confusion.

Shadows began to bruise the edges of your vision and dizziness gripped you, that panic rising like a tide in your lungs, cutting off your air. You forced yourself to calm down, breathing heavily through your nose, and started fumbling around in your pockets for your phone. Your first instinct was to call Light, but what help would he be in a situation like this?

Fingers trembling, your eyes never leaving the convulsing body, you dialled for an ambulance and relayed your situation in a hushed, panicked whispers.

The man was dead by the time the ambulance arrived, pouring red and blue lights through the neighbourhood. He was carried away on a stretcher, his tongue bloated and sticking out of his mouth, his eyes rolled back so just the whites of his irises showed. His skin occupied an ashen blue tinge. You felt sick, right to the pit of your stomach, as you watched the medics carry him away.

"The police are on their way," one of them told you in a kindly, reassuring voice. "They'll just have a few questions about what happened, is that okay? Is there anyone we can call for you?"

You swallowed, shaking your head to snap out of your daze, and then nodded. "Uhm, uh, yeah, yeah I can call my mum. I'll call my mum." You fished around for your phone again dialled the number with numb fingers, hardly feeling the screen beneath the pad of your skin. You could hardly unstick the words from your throat either, and had to ask the ambulance lady to talk in your stead.

"She's on her way. I'll stay here until the police come. Are you cold? Can I get you a blanket?"

You blanked her out, staring down at your hands, still shaking, as if they were covered in blood. The man's blood. His blood was on your hands.

But there had been no blood. He had not bled. He had just died. As if he'd gone to sleep. But it wasn't like that either. It had been grotesque and sickening. That man was sickening. That man had meant to cause you harm.