I DON'T OWN YUGIOH! Or its characters

Summery: Ryou Bakura is living in Domino City's mental asylum, suffering from a personality disorder, along with his friend Marik and Yugi. Determined to be set free from his cage, Ryou finally decides he needs to beat his other personality, if even wants to be released and see his family again.

POV: Ryou Bakura

WHITE. Everywhere I look I see white. White white white!
I hate white. It's everything I'm not. Mentally that is. I can't look in the mirror without seeing the white. If I had a mirror, which I don't. That's probably a good thing! Why, if I had a mirror on my person or in this room I'd have more than 7 years bad luck. Not that it would actually make a difference. I've already had years of bad luck, I am currently experiencing years of bad luck.

I wish I knew the time. We, the trapped white mice, are given 2 hours a-day to 'mingle' together. We'll, the 'straightest' of us are. The rest are kept in their cages…

I've been here since I was 13, so 3 years. I'm used to the drills, the routines, the abnormalities that fore fill my everyday life and Checker's Asylum. It's kind of nice, in some ways, for me to be in a asylum that is in my original Japanese-home Domino City. I'm actually from England, though my accent has long gone, and whenever I try to speak my supposed-natural language of English, all my Rs are accented so they sound like Ls, and every E and I is lengthened. I'm also beginning to drop my Us in a way, since in Japanese they are somewhat hidden amongst the other sounds.
Anyway, as I was saying, I'm now used to it all. The call of the guard's to wake up, a similar call from sleep, Sherlocks after Sherlocks trying to solve my mind, the painful therapies, the strange sounds from the white mice, going crazy in their cages.
The sherlocks and the mice are to main two sets of people in the asylum. The Sherlocks are the psychiatrists, trying to solve the mystery that is our minds and ways, and the mice are us; the crazies, the psychos, the unstable. The nickname of Sherlock is a pretty obvious one, but mice might not be. We call ourselves 'mice' for many reasons, including the fact we a locked away in cells like a mice is looked in a cage. The 'white' mice part, is a reference to our uniforms and straightjackets; both pure white. The sherlocks wear white too, but theirs are long coats with their names sewn on in italic, with pockets of pens and pencils and notebooks. The only thing in any way that our straights and unis give us, the mice, originality is our name, written in a plan, Garamond style.

I was sitting on my bed silently, wrapped in a strait jacket and staring mindless at the white wall in front of me. It had happened again. No one knows why it happens, but he comes out. He comes out and destroys everything; every little detail. I go crazy, because of him.

Who is he?
I don't really know… He feels like a totally different being and yet he is me. Then again, he isn't me. He's everything I'm not. He can handle pain, he's quick on remarks and he might as well have 'dangerous' carved into his fore head. I can't tell anyone anything else about me. They think it's because I'm hiding it, but it's because I don't actually know.

Speaking of things being carved, there are two boys, both of which I have befriended, who are suffering with the same or at least very similar thing to me here at Checkers, and one of those boys has actually carved things on him. Well, the other him did. Riddles, patterns, scores and pictures are carved everywhere; and there is no exaggeration on everywhere. To make a long story short, I found out this when he was on a form of medication for disorder. The treatment actually backfired, and sent in to very strange states of mind, several times when he went into the state, he stripped himself of his clothes, cackling as he did before running round whatever he was in, once or twice trying to escape. There is actually something carved on his back, and how he did it I have never worked out and he has no clue how he did it because he wasn't in control when it was done. There isn't many scars on his face though. Just kanji scripts on the side of his head and round his neck, but these are covered by his hair and uniform – thank god. Not to offend my dear friend, but he does half frighten me when I see those scars. This decorated friend of mine is Marik Ishtar. He's from outside of Japan like me, only he's from Egypt. He doesn't actually look Egyptian anymore, not that he looked that much like one when he was first brought here. His hair is blonde and his eyes are purple. He told me they were once brown, and that one day he just awoke with these strange eyes. His skin is naturally tanned, but was dark as dark when he first came here.

My other friend that suffers with the same disorder as me, and Marik, is Little Yugi Motou, referred to as 'little' not just because of his short height of just 5ft 1, but because he's the youngest in our ward. Marik is 18, I'm 16, and Yugi has just turn 15. I myself am one of the younger mice of Ward Five, but not enough to be babied. The other Mice of Ward 5 are most 18 and 19, with just Joey Wheeler being at the same age as myself. I'm not so friendly with Joey Wheeler, but I certainly don't dislike the boy. He's better friends with Yugi, but we've just never 'clicked'. Lucky for little Yugi, he might have a chance at losing his title soon, since the ward upgrades are due in the next 2 months, so we might have someone younger welcomed to the Ward.

As I was staring at that might wall, I heard the usual bells begin to chime outside my cage.

"Socialising!" called that manly voice of Ms Bode outside "'Nd if I can't anyone acting funny, your back in!" she roared.

I rolled my eyes and stood up, waiting for someone to unlock the door and untie me. It's horrible waiting. It filled with desperation to be released and just doesn't come fast enough.
I heard the bolts of my door being undone before it creaked open.

"Afternoon Ryou" beamed Nurse Matty. Unlike Ms Bode, who was a fat, plain, strong woman with a flat face and a stuck out-jaw, Nurse Matty was kind and gently towards us all "How are you feeling.

"Quite fine, Nurse" I nodded politely as she came over to me and placed her soft palm on my forehead.

"Good temperature." She stated before taking a good look at my face "You seem okay. Try and be good yeah? Control him, you are in charge, remember that? He is not" She encouraged me brightly, undoing my strait jacket straps as she did.

"Yes. I am in control. He is not!" I cried in glee, so happy to be out of my cell

"Brilliant! Now head to the social room, okay?" she smiled sweetly, before leading me out the door. She game a cheerful pat on the shoulder, before leaving me to go my own way. I sighed at the tiniest bit more freedom that would experience for the next 2 hours. I better not waste it! I won't have it for another 20 hours, unless something goes wrong, then it might be as long as 44!

What do you think? Good? Intriguing? Please tell me if I should carry this on…