Something I wrote in drabble tag in October. I believe it was the twenty-second. Well, it deserves to be posted, and I never did post it.
His family was dying right in front of him.
Rephrase that - his people. His people were dying right in front of him. Drowning in their shrieks and suffering, and crimes. It didn't look enjoyable, and yet people were smiling.
Not his people - they were wailing shrieks that would haunt him for as long as he would live - but those. Those others, the ones standing over the pot of melting people, smiling and talking about how wonderful it was...
How wonderful it was to kill? It was wonderful to steal, but not to kill. His parents always told him that killing was a bit too extreme. Better to stage a retreat and come back instead of risking the chances of being found and charged by murder.
And yet, those high and mighty people? The ones that were supposed to frown upon anything like this? He couldn't believe it. And it couldn't leave his mind.
And there was no hope that they would repent for their own sins. Because those so high up don't care for that. Even though Bakura really wanted them to.
Would he have to make them repent?
