Send ★ for a good dream or ☆ for a bad dream my muse has about yours.
His cell was no cell but an oubliette, the dark, doorless walls so tight around him he couldn’t sit, let alone lie down. Light struggled to climb the walls, tearing his fingers and nails to pieces on the rough concrete, but he could get no purchase.
Near peered down at him through the round overhead grate, his dark, wild hair blending into shadow. In one hand, he held a Death Note. In the other, a manhole cover.
With a tremendous effort, Light leapt, bracing himself against the walls as he fought to rise. “No,” he screamed up at the boy. “Don’t do it, don’t do it, please…”
He began to lower the iron lid into place, and Light lost his mind entirely. He struggled upwards, begging, pleading, but the light was fading, Light was fading, and the cover was coming down…
With a clang, the world went dark.
Only after he woke did it occur to him that the face he saw had not been Near’s.