AN: I don't own Death Note, or anything else that I might mention in this story.
What did it stand for? Beyond Birthday? Or Backup?
Of course it wasn't based on my name! I'm just "Backup" to them.
And backup to whom? A? Don't make me laugh.
Every day at Wammy's, he'd tell me about how much he feared gaining L's title and not being able to fill his shoes. When I was in a forgiving mood, I might have told him that it would be okay, he'd be a fine successor to our mentor.
But, most of the time, I'd try to convince him that if he wasn't ready, I'd be here to be backup anyway, so why not let me take the job? That's about the time he'd furiously shake his head and tell me that he could do it, he was just nervous about it. And then, I'd roll my eyes, and shout, "FINE!!!! The one who WANTS to be L…to be BETTER than L…CAN'T because little A wants to fill shoes that he can't!!!!" I'd then find something sharp, cut A with it (just a little. Barely enough to draw blood.) And storm off, kicking things, and getting some jam from the kitchen to calm myself.
That was a typical evening.
Those evenings happened a little too often, I guess.
One day, it all became too much. I realized that I needed him gone.
So that night, I put on a pair of dark gloves and Crocs, (so if I had to step in something that would leave a footprint, such as water, the prints wouldn't be specific to shoes owned only by me,) slipped a knife into my jeans pocket, and pulled my hair into a tight cap as to not leave any at the scene.
I crept to the library, where I knew A would be obsessively studying so he'd know everything he can for when the time came for him to succeed L.
I tiptoed in, silently, as to not alarm him.
I stared at him in his little corner, frantically scribbling down advanced college-level AP calculus problems in his notebook.
Something about the compulsive habits of my thirteen-year-old roommate fascinated me. Almost ten minutes had passed before I remembered the mission I had come on.
At that time, I realized that the plan I had come with wouldn't work. I hoped to make it look like a suicide, but with his book in the way, it would look awkward. I mean, killing yourself in the middle of studying? AP calc wasn't that difficult…
But how did I dispose of the book without him noticing? Knocking him out wouldn't work, because again, it had to appear as a suicide and a sign of unconsciousness such as a lump on the head or a bruise wouldn't be a part of that.
As I stood there in the shadows of the Wammy's House library at midnight, feeling the rush of adrenaline that came with acts such as this, as well as the mind rush as I formulated a plan, I realized my love of this. It had the best feeling.
And it'll feel better once I'm done with him… I thought evilly.
Now, how to get rid of the book without him noticing?
Oh wow. Duh. I had just figured out a perfect plan. It was very obvious, too.
I snuck back to our room and felt around for a while for my jacket. (Turning the lights on was too risky. I was supposed to be asleep.) When I found it, I snatched my cell phone from the pocket. After tweaking it the slightest bit, I made myself invisible to caller ID, as well as the phone records. As soon as I took A's phone, as far as proof was concerned, there was none. The call never happened.
Feeling slightly superior, I dialed A's number. It rang three and a half times before his sleepy voice answered.
"Oh, hi, B. Aren't you supposed to be asleep?"
"Probably. But I'm not. Listen; meet me in our room immediately. You'll probably get there first. Just wait for…say…five minutes, and if I don't show up, just assume…well…"
"B, what the hell is going on? Are you in trouble?"
"Just come to our room. And don't tell anyone about this. Even if I don't come back, keep it a secret, or whoever you tell will be in danger."
He obviously couldn't see me smirking throughout this conversation. I had made my voice sound deadly serious, and slightly afraid. Just the sort of voice I needed to scare A into leaving his studies.
"Okay. My lips are sealed. See you in our room."
He hesitated, wondering if that should be the last word, and hung up. I followed.
I took the long route to the library as to not run into A. When I reached the dark, book-filled room, I found no one else there. A had bought my lie hook, line, and sinker.
I dashed to the table where he'd left his calculus book open and carefully closed it, thanking God for my gloves.
Holding it far from me so I wouldn't leave any fibers, I ran back to our room. As I did, the knife in my pocket banged impatiently against my leg, as if telling me to use it soon. I silently promised it that it would soon be used in a way it had never been used before.
I stopped and checked my watch. Seven minutes and forty-seven second had passed since our conversation. A should be out of the room by now.
I hurried in, thankful that I had been right and he wasn't there, and stored the textbook and notebook in their correct places on the shelf, and snuck back to the library.
A seemed to be searching for his book. Still keeping close to the shadows, I crept silently behind him, pulling out the knife as I did, feeling slightly giddy.
Suddenly, I pounced. I wrapped one arm around his arms in restraint and quickly and cleanly slit his throat. He fell to the ground with a satisfying "thud." Delicious crimson liquid flowed through the split in his neck. He was gasping for his last breaths. I figured I should at least show him the courtesy of knowing who had defeated him. I stepped into his view, illuminated by moonlight.
He was trying to say something, "B," I guessed, but the effort killed him. Literally. He went totally still, glassy eyes staring in half surprise, half horror at nothing.
I smiled a demented grin. Now all I had to do was take care of the corpse, and that would be easy, considering I wanted it to appear a suicide.
I placed the bloody blade in his palm and wrapped his fingers around the handle. I closed his eyes so people didn't see the fright filling them. I figured that was about all I needed to do. If I started getting fancy it wouldn't look like a normal suicide.
I hurried out of the room excitedly. I had succeeded! A was dead! Yes!
As I reached my room and began stripping myself of my clothes, planning to burn them so no evidence could be collected, I began thinking about how much work that was, and how no one would know that I had done all that work.
It was at that moment, as I was speed-changing into pajama bottoms, that I made a decision. I would make this wonderful activity of murder a habit so I could continue to feel this wonderful high, but I would make it obvious that it was a murder. Not that it was me, but that it was homicide. Perfect.
I also planned to beat L, to create an unsolvable case, (murder, of course,) and prove to him that even his backup – no, not even his. His successor's backup – was better than he.
I watched my clothes burn in our fireplace, hugging my knees to my chest, figuring out my next victim.
After a while, I decided to give the killing a break for a little while, to throw off suspicion of a serial killer.
I crawled into bed and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep immediately.
I was shaken awake way to early the next morning by Roger, Near, Mello, Matt, and a couple other prodigy kids.
"B, we have some very bad news. A –"
"What about him?" I interrupted pointlessly, wearing a worried face.
"– He killed himself last night. I'm sorry. I guess L's title was just too much for him to handle..."
I buried my face in my hands, praying that they mistook my laughter for sobs. Even the great Wammy's House kids thought it was suicide! Perfect!
Roger touched my lightly on the shoulder. "I know. We all feel terrible. Would you like to see the scene?"
I shook my head without looking up. I knew my expression would be gleeful. I couldn't hold it in.
"Can you leave me alone for a while?" I asked, pretending I was speaking through tears instead of giggles.
"Of course," Roger replied gently, and soon I heard footsteps leave my room.
I leapt up in celebration, felling ecstatic.
At that moment, I finally knew my destiny. It promised to be a very great one.
AN: I almost had TOO much fun writing that…anyway, thanks for reading! Hope you liked it, and reviews are always appreciated.