I don't own any characters or places this is all by the wonderful creators of death note!
Let me start off by saying that I have worked on my fair share of cases, allowing me to take in the reality and the severity of a human life. I ask L and Roger to not classify this as suicide note. For pity is not the reason I am writing this letter. I imagine there will be some confusing theories once I'm found lying in the very place you all so graciously took me in. I also am taking into account I live amongst the greatest minds of our world, including being raised and trained to be a successor to the worlds greatest detective. I imagine this would only justify your already formulated theories. But never the less I will continue on. Assuming that, there is a 98% chance that it will not only be L and few others will read this. I plan on telling the whole story. What has occurred throughout my life at the Wammy house, how I met B… and how it has progressed to my decision to take my own life. I would like to acknowledge the fact that I do not plan on giving any personal history of my life before the Wammy house for this will only shed more light on my now non-existence. After reading this I hope this to be my last shadow that I leave upon the world, and hope to simply fade from the memory in which I left behind.
As an introduction to those of you reading this that are not my fellow letters from the Wammy house. I am A. I am the first child who has been brought to the Wammy house as the successor to L. I have been living here since the age of 4; the events before this will remain untouched. The Wammy house has grown since then, and progressed into a much larger group of children and teenagers. I myself am 19, or for this matter I was 19. Being the first, I had the most time to adjust to the life that I was set to live and take the place of someone who continued to be out of reach. After myself was B. Also known as Beyond Birthday, Rue Ryuzaki or B.B. He was my first friend as well as my first enemy. He had black raven hair along with very dark eyes that almost seemed to have a red twinge to them when he would stare. His hunched back made him seem shorter than he actually was, but even crouched in his horrible posture he still remained to be 6 foot tall. No matter the time of day he always seemed to smell of sweet strawberries. Most certainly the obsession with strawberry jam being the main cause for this. For sweet was not a scent that suited Beyond Birthday. His plain white long sleeve shirt and baggy jeans only seemed to justify my conclusion of his self-representation, or rather the opinions of others in which he never acknowledged. B, along with many other letters, joined us throughout the years. Some sociable, other who wanted their distance. The Wammy house was not a place to make friends. We would listen, learn and adapt to place these new skills into a scenario that may appear within the near future. Me, being the first in line and the most obvious the succeed L am somewhat of a road block for you other letters. But fear not; that block has been removed. As for you B, I understand and can predict that after reading this you will no longer remain at the Wammy house. No matter. This story shall soon become clear and to an end for this shall be the only such remainders of what was told to be A from the Wammy house.