A play on Marik's past and what he dealt with. Also how he deals with it now. Yami Marik comes out in the current times when Marik is older when confront with the 'threat' again. There really is no threat, but the candles brought back a sense of danger and panic. Similar to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, involving his alter ego. Later on, he avoids candles all together, even if it means being in the darkness with himself, or perhaps along side a certain dark visitor.

(5/5/12: Story finally spellchecked, sorry for the wait)


The young blonde sat at the edge of his bed trembling slightly. He knew what was coming. Any second now someone would enter the room and he'd be taken to another place to start...the ritual. "Why did it have to be me?"Marik asked himself this everyday. Even Odion and Ishizu couldn't comfort him now. Odion had even offered to go through the initiation himself in place of Marik. But Mr. Ishtar wouldn't have that. Odion wasn't Ishtar blood and he wouldn't do. Marik let out a shaky sigh and lie down on his bed, facing the wall. Maybe he could just fall asleep and when he woke up it would all be over. If only.

Marik opened his eyes slowly, finding himself still facing the wall. He'd fallen asleep but wasn't sure of how much time had gone by. The thought of the impending ritual rushed at him in the form of his blood going cold. The room was silent except for his slow and shallow breathing. He was almost too scared to turn around, afraid to see if the one he was dreading to show up was there. The young blonde lie in the same position for a moment longer before finally turning to on his back, a couple joints popping quietly as he did. His lilac eyes immediately glanced over at the door. A sigh of relief came over the boy as he saw no one there. Not yet. "Are they not coming? Maybe it's been delayed. Did Odion finally convince father to take him instead?" Wishful thinking. His dream was short lived and the young tomb keeper's heart nearly jumped up his throat when the heavy door creaked open and two cloaked figures stepped in. "No! I won't let this happen!" Marik shouted in his mind. He turned over on his side, his back to the two men as he pulled his knees up to his chest. The boy's breathing started hitching as warm tears ran down his face, the salty liquid stinging his face. The boy gave no fight as the cloaked men each took an arm, lifting him from the bed and guiding him towards where the ritual was to take place.

Marik let in a deep shaky breath as he entered the dim room, a few flickering candles were glowing by a large slab of rock. He was brought up to it and that's where they stopped. With a stern nod from Mr. Ishtar the two hooded figures proceeded to force Marik face down onto the table. The young boy struggled against them at first. "Father!" He cried out, managing to cast a teary-eyed glance at the man only to be met with a steely gaze and unfriendly scowl. His father disappeared from view as the young male was finally overcome and he found himself face down on the slab. Marik let out a quiet gasp as the cold stone of the table touched his skin, his shirt having been pulled off over his head shortly before. He hadn't realized it until now but he was shaking all over. Turning his head to the side, he caught a glimpse of something shining. A knife held over the steady flames of a candle. "Oh no!" The words traveling in his mind in a harsh whisper. Marik clenched his eyes shut, pushing out some more hot tears as he did. Half his body seemed to run cold at that instant while the rest ran scalding hot. It was nerves that did this of course, and he knew he was feeling nothing right now compared to what was to come. His eyes flew open in a panic when he felt two hands press down on each of his arms and hold him there. "Here it comes.." The boys breathing was very shallow now as he glanced back at the candle to see the knife missing from the scene. Before his mind had a second to comprehend he felt an intense sting on his backside. He imagined his back on fire with a vulture tearing at his skin with it's razor-sharp talons. He raised his head a bit and cried out, the candle's dim light reflecting in his glossy lilac hues.

Eight years later, Marik's phobia showed for the first time. A storm had hit and the building's electricity. Fumbling around, his roommate managed to gather an old candle and some matches. As the blonde turned to the flickering light he froze, his eyes glossed over as he started into the dull glow. The male's muscles tightened and his blood turned to ice as his roommate caught a glance at him and raised a brow. "Marik? You okay?" Marik heard nothing as a long buried memory arose. That night, his 'special' birthday all those years ago. He started trembling and his roommate soon grabbed hold of his arm. "Marik, what's wrong?" He received no response but caught another look at Marik in the dull light. A quiet double-voiced chuckling sounded, coming from the young man. The roommate, now startled, let go of the other male's arm only to have his own limb grasped firmly. Looking back at the Egyptian's face he now saw someone else, even in the low light. He looked rather similar, but there was something about him. This wasn't Marik.