Death Note Fan Fiction ❯ Legato ❯ Lacuna ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Lacuna (manuscripts): a missing section of text
Lacuna (music): an extended silence in a piece of music
Lacuna (linguistics): a lexical gap between two languages
Lacuna (law): non liquet, when there is no law addressing a situation
 
1. Lacuna
 
The front door slammed with a bang that jarred him briefly. His gaze flickered and settled once more on the TV in front of him.
 
“—can't believe this. I just can't believe it. What are we going to do?”
 
“If you'd just calm down and think for a second, woman, we can find a way out of this. We can have most of our things packed in the next hour and be gone by daybreak—”
 
Angry footsteps moved down the hall, past his room, accompanied by the voices. The disembodied laughs of an invisible audience on TV mingled with the noise outside his door.
 
“Oh, what a way to be inconspicuous. Just pack up and leave when the neighbors know us, our son's teacher is supposed to call tomorrow, and—”
 
“And who's to blame for all those liabilities? Who just had to get all friendly with the idiots next door and down the street, who just couldn't bear the thought of home-schooling our kid?”
 
“Shut up, you son of a bitch! Don't you dare blame anything on me when it's because of you that we're in this mess in the first place! I swear, it was the worst fucking mistake to marry you. If all those years ago I had known I'd be in shit this deep I would have—”
 
“Bad news, honey. It's too late. It's either leave town or get fucked, bad. Given those choices I presume you're still able to make a sensible decision.”
 
“I can't believe this. I can't believe it. I hate you. I hate you!”
 
Another door slammed. The voices were more muffled now. He could not hear what they were saying any longer. The show ended and there was a commercial break.
 
It was time to sleep. He left his room quietly and entered the bathroom down the hall. He paused before using the toilet. There was a pair of bloodied gloves in the trash can. He stared at them as he washed his hands and brushed his teeth. Turning off the light, he walked back to his room. The bed was uncomfortably cold. He lay there with his eyes open, staring into the darkness above him where he knew there was a ceiling.
 
He did not know how long he had lay there when a sliver of light appeared under the door and spread around its edges. A slow creak sounded through the silence as the door opened and his mother entered. He watched her approach him. Her eyes were moist and swollen, and her hair was not in its usual neat array.
 
“Sweetie, you're still awake,” she whispered, kneeling down beside him and brushing his hair back from his face. “You must be so tired.”
 
She sighed as he continued to look at her passively, wondering what else she would say. “Listen, mommy has to tell you something. Listen good, because it's important.”
 
She was about to go on, but closed her mouth and glanced around her. There was no one else in the room. He never understood why she always double-checked.
 
“Daddy and mommy are going to take you on a little vacation, okay? Just the three of us. We'll go somewhere fun and really far from here, a place you'll really like,” she said, a smile appearing on her chapped lips. “How about it? You won't have to worry about school, we can find you a better one. I'm sure you'll make a lot more friends too.”
 
He shrugged. He had barely started going to school. He didn't know many other children yet.
 
“It'll be okay, sweetie. It'll be great,” she said, her smile stretching thinner. “We just have to pack everything now to be ready by morning. Okay?”
 
“Why?”
 
She paused at his question. “Well we need to pack our things so we have things to wear on the way to the new place, and food to eat, and—”
 
“Why are we leaving?” he articulated.
 
She bit her lip and more moisture welled up in her eyes. “I'll tell you on the way there, dear. We don't have time right now.”
 
He turned his back to her, facing the wall instead. “I don't want to go.”
 
“Sweetie, we have to go. I promise it'll be fine. Trust mommy, okay?”
 
He didn't move. He heard her sigh. A hand brushed the back of his head, ruffling his hair for a brief second.
 
“Daddy will come get you later when we're done packing. We'll leave then.”
 
She planted a kiss on the side of his face. Her footsteps retreated to the doorway. He heard her hesitation as she stopped walking.
 
Her voice was soft. “I'm sorry. Mommy's really sorry, sweetie.”
 
The door closed and he lay quietly in the dark again. He curled his knees up to his chest for warmth. After some time he fell asleep.
 
The front door slammed with a bang that jarred him awake. Heavy footsteps shook the floor outside his room and down the hall, to his parents' room. There were strangers in the house. A man who was not his father was shouting, and his mother screamed.
 
The screams stopped after a few seconds. The heavy footsteps passed his door in the opposite direction, and he heard his mother crying as she walked beside the strangers. He could not hear his father at all. The front door closed quietly a few seconds later.
 
The doorknob turned and light flooded the room. He brought a hand up to shield his eyes. He could make out two sets of black boots over dark pants with single yellow stripes on the sides. One pair walked toward him as the other stayed at the door.
 
The man at the door exhaled a sigh. His voice sounded sad. “Young. So young…”
 
A gloved hand gently brushed the bangs away from his forehead. He looked up at a solemn-faced man wearing a helmet. The man looked back at him with an unreadable expression. He removed his helmet, tufts of graying hair settling atop his head, and tucked it under his elbow.
 
“Son, you gotta get out of bed. We're taking a little trip.”
 
“You're not my father,” he said.
 
The corners of the man's mouth tugged downward into a stern frown. “No, I'm not. Your daddy's in trouble. I'm sorry to say mommy is too. So we gotta get you out of here.”
 
He turned his back to the man with the helmet, facing the wall instead. “I don't want to go.”
 
The two men were silent for a minute. Then strong hands lifted him out of bed. He thought about kicking but stayed still as they wrapped him in a coat that was too large for his six year-old frame, and carried him outside to a waiting car.