Riddles {a Death Note MelloXOC and NearXOC story}

The Beginning of the End

I nod, and then I enter the house. I sit on the couch in the small living room and listen to the two women's conversation.

"Why?" It is Annie's voice. "What about her father? He and you—"

"—He's dead," Emily replies, cutting Annie off.

I'm not sure what that means. "Dead." I have never heard that word before, but I can tell it is nothing good, for I can hear the horror in Annie's voice.

"What?" is all she can manage to say.

"Just take her," Emily replies, somehow managing to stay amazingly calm. "Everything will make sense soon. I only ask one more favor of you. Don't tell her anything. Not about me, not about her father, not anything about her family or her past."

Silence again. After about a minute, Annie regains her voice, and she gives her answer.

"Okay."

---ѻ------ѻ------ѻ---

My eyes shot open, and I returned to reality. I looked out the window. Nothing but pure sunshine.

I'd had that dream again. That dream I got every once in a while. I sometimes felt like that dream was real. A flashback, maybe. I saw it through the little girl's eyes, but I still didn't know if it was really me.

Sometimes, I wonder if that's how I was adopted. I'd asked my mother once, but she said that I was talking nonsense.

My mom's name was Annabelle. Annabelle Riddle. It would make sense if the lady in the dream was her, but no one called her Annie, not even her closest friends. She said she hated that nickname because she had curly red hair and freckles, which would always lead to annoying jokes or people singing "Tomorrow."

I looked at the clock and saw that it was about time for me to get ready for school. I dragged myself out of bed and got dressed.

As I came down the stairs, I saw my mom getting ready for work. I reached the bottom of the staircase and stood there, staring at her.

A freckled, rosy-cheeked, curly-haired redhead and a pale Eurasian; people usually assumed I either had an Asian dad or on rarer occasions, that I was adopted. I could tell that Mom was bothered on the few occasions when someone was bold enough to ask these questions, but when the rude person was gone, I would always tell Mom that I didn't care. Adopted or related by blood, father or no father; it didn't matter to me. She was my mother. She was all I needed.

As for the woman in my dreams, I wasn't sure if she was my biological mother or not. I wasn't even sure if she was real or not. Granted, that didn't stop me from being curious about my past every now and again.

I shook my head, bringing myself back to reality. I headed for the kitchen, grabbed a granola bar, and got my jacket and backpack.

"Good morning to you, too, Piper," Mom said, rolling her eyes at the fact that I was, once again, about to leave without saying anything. "Leaving already?"

"Yeah," I replied. "I have to get to school early so Rachel and I can finish our project."

"Good luck," she said with a smile. She bent down and kissed my head.

I walked out of the kitchen and to the front door. I opened it up and stepped outside, looking at the beautiful winter landscape. Everything was covered in a fresh coat of pure, white snow. As I took another step forward, I stopped when I heard a loud thump and the crashing of dishes.

It came from inside. I went back into the kitchen, where I had heard it, and I stopped dead in my tracks at the sight.

My mother was sprawled on the floor, eyes wide open, totally unresponsive.