Death Note Parents Guide

((( Julius POV’s )))Napabangon ako dahil sa bungangang yun. Tinignan ko yung babae.“Huwag kang lalapit sa akin!” Bigla akong ngumit at natawa sa sarili ko. Kung gano'n ang babaeng 'to ay walang iba kundi si Janine.“Seems I have a “good” Morning. Good morning Janine.”Bigla akong pinaghahampas ng unan ni Janine. Ewan parang ang saya eh. Nakalapit ako sa kanya. Pinigilan ko ang kamay niya saka hinila ko siya palapit sa akin.“Bitiwan mo ako Julius!” Hinalikan ko siya sa noo. Natigilan siya sa kakapalag.“Now, your mine.” Saka ko siya hinalikan sa labi.Bakas sa mukha niya ang pagkagulat. Kaya bigla niya akong sinampal. Ngumiti lang ako bilang tugon...“I know. I deserve it.” At muli ko siyang hinalikan.“Julius! Gumising ka nga!” At pinagsasampal ako ni Janine, magkabilaang pisngi. Pinigilan ko ang kamay niya.“Gising na gising ako. Gusto mo pa?” Pak!Aww...yun ang masakit.“Di ako nakikipaglokohan sa'yo!” Ngumiti ako.“Sa tingin mo niloloko kita?”“Ahhhh....hmmm..” Hinalikan ko eh.At bago ako bumangon, hinalikan ko siya sa pisngi. Natulala siya.Bumangon na ako. Tinali ko ang robe ko at kinindatan siya bago ako pumunta ng banyo.Nang makapasok ako, narinig ko ang pagsisigaw ni Janine.Nakita ko naman ang refleksyon ko sa salamin. Ngiting-ngiti na napapailing. Naghilamos ako. Iniisip ko kung sino sa dalawang ama-amahan ko ang gumawa nito.

My brother, Theo Sorento, died in a plane crash on his way back home just to celebrate my birthday. They never found his body—only wreckage. Ever since, my parents forced me to kneel in front of his grave every year on my birthday, demanding that I repent for surviving when he didn’t. Then came my eighteenth birthday. I realized someone was following me. Panicked, I sent a few messages asking for help. Just then, Mom called, not to check on me but to lash out. “I know exactly what you're doing. You’re just making up excuses so you don’t have to kneel in front of your brother’s grave! You’re a liar. Why wasn’t it you who died instead of him? You’re a walking curse!” Before my phone was smashed under a boot, the last thing I heard was the cold click of her hanging up. Then, I was cut up into pieces, and what was left of me was tossed across the city. My father, the lead forensic pathologist on my case, didn’t even recognize me. Later, Theo returned alive with his wife, whom he had eloped with eight years ago. When they found out the pile of rotting flesh was me, they all went insane.

My parents, the wealthiest couple in the country, were famous philanthropists. I had to ask them for permission if I wanted to spend more than five bucks. The day I was diagnosed with terminal cancer, I asked them for 100 dollars, but instead of helping, they yelled at me for three hours. "What kind of disease could you get at your age? If you're going to ask for money, at least come up with a better excuse." "Do you know that 100 dollars could support children in poverty-stricken areas for a long time? Your sister is more sensible than you." I dragged my sick body for miles, back to the small basement I called home. But as I passed the mall, I saw my parents, live on a huge screen, spending a fortune to rent out Disneyland for my sister. I couldn't hold back the tears anymore. A hundred dollars wouldn't even cover one round of chemotherapy. I just wanted to buy a new outfit and leave with some dignity.

It's my third day of being a ghost, and I feel like I'm going to starve to death again. The underworld messenger takes pity on me because I'm a child and secretly tells me that people like me, who suffered grievances and died with resentment, have to stay by the sides of the people who loved us most in life. Then, we survive on their "guilt". I lower my head and narrow my eyes. I choke up and say, "You might as well just leave me to starve." My mother hated me to the core. Why would she ever be guilty over my death?

My sister pulled a knife during a robbery attempt, and we got into a brutal fight. My mom, an auxiliary police officer, arrived at the scene but totally ignored my injury. As I lay in a pool of blood, begging for help, she just cradled my sister and yelled at me, "You're so desperate for attention that you'd hurt your sister? How did I raise a heartless monster like you?" She branded me as the aggressor, ignored my pleas, and rushed my sister, who had mere scratches, to the hospital. I was left alone to die miserably in that deserted alley. When the news of my death arrived, my mother dismissed it as another one of my lies, pointing at my body and demanding I get up to apologize to my sister.

While my corpse was rotting in the morgue, my fiancé, Ron Corleone, was comforting my murderer. Lisa Corleone sobbed as she said, “After we were kidnapped and brought here, Wendy disappeared. We don’t know if she managed to escape. It was all my fault. If I hadn’t insisted on going out with Wendy…” Ron’s face was ice cold. “The future mistress of the Corleone family actually abandoned my sister and fled on her own. If she dares to come back, I’ll break her arms and legs and turn her into a maggot that only deserves to live in the dark!” In fact, I did die in some random corner with my limbs broken. The truth about my death made Ron, who had vowed to make me regret my existence, crazy.

Everything changed on my twelfth birthday. The brakes failed, the tragic crash, and the death of our parents. My brother blamed it all on me. He ruled as the mafia boss, yet all he showed me was hatred. The only love he had left was for our younger sister. He never believed how sick I became. He accused me of faking my sickness to get attention. He would turn to our sister with a gentleness I never received, he promised to save her, and he promised she would never die on his watch. My heart ended up beating inside her chest even after I died. He finally saw what was left of my damaged body after I was gone. The truth my brother never bothered to face would shatter his world.

Three days after his first love Mandy's death, my husband locked me in a steel cage and sank me into the ocean. "You vicious woman," he spat. "Stay here and repent to Mandy!" He didn't know I carried his child. I thrust the pregnancy confirmation toward him, but he walked away without a backward glance. Yet when he later saw my corpse—bloated and decomposing in the seawater—he went insane.

One week after my death, my husband, Christopher Ford, was making love on our bed with his one true love. His face showed pure satisfaction. "Finally, I don’t have to deal with that bar hostess anymore." Later, he held my belongings, weeping with regret. "Phoebe, why haven’t you come back?" It seemed he had forgotten that he had already pushed me to my death that night. I was forced to donate my bone marrow to his one true love, and I died, along with our unborn child.

The day my girlfriend’s condition worsened and she needed urgent surgery, I publicly called her a burden in front of everyone. Despite her pleas, I abandoned her cruelly. Seven years later, she became a formidable international tycoon and returned home with great fanfare. To exact her revenge on me, the heartless man, she poisoned my mother into silence and sent my father to prison. Eager to see me beg for mercy, she mobilized every connection to track me down. At this point, her parents could no longer bear to watch. With tears streaming down their faces, they revealed the entire truth. “He died seven years ago to donate his organs to you!”