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Summary
Dead. Dead, dead, dead. A splayed out corpse, ugly in its awkward angles and unnatural paleness. Light chews on his lips, lets the corners of his mouth twitch into a small smile as he pictures it. L is bloody and hacked apart. L is splattered on the ground. L is limp with vacant eyes and an open, bleeding mouth that can’t accuse anyone of anything.
Light doubts even Kira wants L dead as much as he does. He doesn’t even know what L looks like, so he doesn’t get to fantasize about it properly. How sad.
But Light does, and Light can, and Light does.
He is so controlled, and he is so in control of his mind, and he is thinking about exactly what he wants to think about.
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L’s eyes are black holes. Light cannot escape them.