Death Note Parents Guide Novels & Stories

When my sister, Danielle Campbell, and I are born, our parents hire an astrologer to read our futures. The astrologer says Danielle will develop severe depression because of my success. After the SAT scores are released, she'll jump from the roof of our school and end her life. To save Danielle, my parents spend 18 years tearing me down. On the day of the SAT, they even confiscate my exam permit. I fall to my knees and beg them, slamming my forehead against the tile floor over and over. Dad kicks me into the walk-in freezer and locks the door from the outside. "You know your sister will die because of you, and you still insist on taking the exam? Are you trying to drive her to her death?" The freezer is set to -22 degrees Fahrenheit. I'm wearing nothing but my short-sleeved school uniform. I pound desperately on the door. "Mom! It's so cold in here! Please let me out!" "Oh, stop pretending." Mom's voice is sharp and cutting. "The refrigeration isn't even turned on! Danielle is only one step away from escaping that prophecy, and all you can think about is yourself?" Their footsteps fade into the distance. Blood keeps streaming from the wound on my forehead, soaking into my uniform before turning ice-cold. I curl up in the corner. Little by little, my body grows stiff.

The scholarship student, Izzy Waite, whom Craig Green had been funding, decided to seek some thrills by engaging in group intimacy in the open sea. They messed around in a way that drew blood and unintentionally attracted a shark. I risked my life to drag her back to shore. Once we made it to land, I warned her the ocean was full of bacteria and that she should get a check-up, just in case. She nodded and pretended to listen. However, the moment I turned my back, she ran to Craig, claiming I’d slandered her reputation. She even threatened to throw herself back into the ocean in some dramatic attempt to end it all. Craig was furious. Without giving me a chance to explain, he shoved me into the mouth of a massive, still-living shark. I beat against the inside of that monster’s stomach, screaming for help. The fishermen on the beach panicked at the sight. “Mr. Craig, please. This’ll kill her!” Craig simply held the weeping Izzy in his arms and sneered. “I heard people can survive inside a shark for a whole month. Doesn’t she love studying marine biology? Now, she can do some real research from inside.” Trapped in utter darkness, I curled up, gently cradling my belly. “Baby, this time, Mommy can’t protect you…” One month later, Craig finally came to gut the shark himself and bring me home. Unfortunately, all he found on the wind-swept shore was a skeleton.

Before I turn eight, I am the most spoiled little princess in our family. I love beautiful shoes, so my parents buy me the crystal heels that are the highlight of an auction. When I want to learn the piano, they hire the most talented virtuoso to be my teacher. Mom and Dad love me, and my older brother, Asher Sullivan, dotes on me, too. However, everything changes the year I turn eight, when Asher is killed by human traffickers while trying to save me. From that moment on, I'm branded as the sinner of the family. Mom and Dad forbid me from sleeping in my own room. Every single night, they make me kneel in Asher's room to repent for my sins. Every year on the anniversary of Asher's death, Mom and Dad whip my mouth with the soles of their shoes to make me remember the grave mistake I committed. Later on, Mom and Dad adopt a boy named Archer Sullivan, who's a carbon copy of Asher, and have him punish me in Asher's place. After nearly five years of torment, when I'm at death's door, a voice suddenly breaks the silence. "I didn't give my life to save you just so you could let them treat you like a punching bag, you idiot!"

To save the merfolk from slaughter, I seduced the vampire lord himself-Lazarus. He still loved me after all. For three days and three nights, he drowned himself in my body, unwilling to let me out of his arms for even a second. I roused from the haze of fleeting bliss, only to have a searing, corrosive liquid poured mercilessly over my head. "You with eternal healing can taste the sting of agony？" "Yet your trivial suffering pales in comparison to the loss of my kin you brought upon me. It is nothing at all!" "This is merely the beginning. Refuse to reveal where my parents lie hidden, and you shall never break free from this castle." He was convinced that I alone had destroyed everything he held dear. Holding the entire merfolk’s lives hostage, he confined me within the castle. Time and again, he tore open my chest by force, wrenching out my pearl of the mer, feeding its essence to Isolde to mend her frail flesh. He condemned me to sleepless nights, forcing me to cleanse the filth he left behind. Barefoot, I was made to dance the mermaid’s lament upon razor-sharp silver blades, writhing in pain to lull Isolde into slumber. Later, Isolde feigned a pregnancy. Driven by false tenderness for her, Lazarus took to slicing chunks of my immortal mermaid flesh with cold blades, brewing them into nourishing potions for her. Hatred for me burned deep in his bones, yet whenever I was on the brink of death, he would still force his own blood down my throat to keep me alive. "You presume too much on my lingering love for you, choosing silence over the truth, do you not? Aurora… tell me, what became of my parents?" I endured in silence, bearing witness to his love torn between hatred and longing. Soon, I would no longer need to guard that fatal secret. For a mermaid who dwells on land for three years shall wither and perish, severed from the sea that gives her life. Only three days remained until my final breath.

At the request of my sister, Wendy Moonveil, the whole family explored the outer woods, only to be attacked by rogues. My fated mate, Allen Sangre, scooped Wendy into his arms and broke through the aggressors. My parents, Terence and Camile Moonveil, dodged the attacks with agility before making a run back to the pack. Terence even found the time to keep the kitten bought recently for Wendy safe in his embrace. That night, they returned and shared their thrilling close call on social media, celebrating their lucky escape from the clutches of vicious rogues. One thing slipped their mind, though. Their delicate Omega was still surrounded by the rogues—alone and without help.

I was diagnosed with Neurogenic Wolf Spirit Atrophy. In half a month, I would be dead. The day I received the diagnosis, I decided to give up treatment and donate my body to the Central Research Institute after my death. Through the mind link, I reached out to my brother, whom I hadn’t seen in six years, hoping he would help me sign the papers. He sneered and cut off the link without any hesitation. With the Spirit Severance Donation Contract, a formal waiver of my right to have my wolf spirit returned to my pack's sacred grounds after death, I crossed countless territories alone to the high-ranking city where he resided. He had been promoted to commander of the Silverfang Patrol, basking in glory. He casually signed the document without even looking at me, then said with chilling indifference, “Don’t ever come to me again. Given how ungrateful you are, I can't be bothered to give you a proper burial." I nodded lightly. “I understand.” He did not know that the money for his treatments in the past years had come from me. Now, there were only seven days left until my death.

The witch told us my older sister would die at sixteen, and her prophecies had never been wrong. From that moment on, my sister became the most important one in the family. The best venison was saved for her. The rare white fox fur was given to her. Every night, our parents told her bedtime stories. I knew she was pitiful, but I still felt hurt and resentful. Then, on the day she turned sixteen, a sharp pain spread through my chest. Afraid I would cause trouble, my parents locked me in the basement. “Mom, please…” I cried, pounding on the door. “I can feel my wolf spirit getting weaker. Let me out…” However, Mom said without hesitation, “No! Today is an important day for your sister. “She only has one day left. Just bear with it…” When I finally closed my eyes and my soul drifted out of my body, I saw the living room filled with warm candlelight. My parents were holding my sister who was alive and well as they cried. Only then did I realize that the witch’s prophecy had never been wrong. The one meant to die was never my sister.

When the college admission notice arrived, I suddenly developed a high fever and was bedridden. My sister encountered a kidnapping on her way to help me collect the notice, and her life was uncertain. My parents hated me deeply. After tearing up my admission notice, they forced me to give up my studies and work in a factory. Later, I experienced a kidnapping as well. After narrowly escaping, I hid in an abandoned factory and sent them a message for help. My dad called me and shouted at me without restraint, “Lena, are you even human? How could you play such a joke on us on Jessica's memorial day!” “Do you have any idea how much your mom and I wished it had been you who died back then?” In my last moments before death, their insults echoed in my ears. I was tortured and killed, turned into a monster, and my body was thrown into a stinking ditch for three full days. Even my father, the most experienced forensic expert, couldn’t recognize me. When my sister returned home with the guy she eloped with years ago, my dad had just restored my appearance through technology. They knelt before my decaying corpse and cried until they fainted.

After being bullied to death at school, I was reborn as a newborn baby. And then I realized my mother was the same person who had tormented me. Now she was whispering to me sweetly, “Oh, my precious baby.” Precious baby? I immediately started thrashing in her arms, trying to jab my tiny fingers into her eyes. From this day forward, this ‘precious baby’ would be out for revenge!

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.