Now as you close your eyes
Know I'll be thinking about you
While my mistress she calls me to stand in her spotlight again
Tonight I won't be alone
But you know that don't mean I'm not lonely
I've got nothing to prove for it's you I'd die to defend
Bon Jovi - Bed of Roses
He did not care that she was waiting for him. He did not care at all – about anything. Well, about anything that wasn't cutting the Pharaoh's head off and watching as the blood spilled down his pale, spoiled chest.
That was one of the benefits of giving himself over to the darkness.
It had been three days since he had last heard from her. Three days since she had last tried to contact him.
Not that he was counting.
He watched with bored lavender eyes as people passed him by. Many of them were scurrying home before dark. Easy targets, really, but he did not concern himself with petty theft anymore. He could hear the coins clinking in the sacks at their waists. He had gotten so good that he could tell exactly how many coins were in a purse and what sort of coins they were.
All of that information was useless now, though. He had no need of their small change. He had no need of the followers that he accumulated, either. They were useless and a waste of time. They had far too many human needs and inane, conflicting desires. A memory of their blood-soaked bodies flashed through his mind's eye and he reached for the golden ring around his neck, gently stroking the cold metal.
The men had tried to fight back, but they were no match for his Millennium Item. He had not even needed to summon Diabound.
All of a sudden, like a whisper on the wind, he heard her. The air around him was warmer than it had been a moment prior. She was calling to him again, the senseless girl.
As the sun sunk further he felt the cold points of the Millennium Ring dive into his flesh, cutting deep and winding him. Zork was making his presence known. Bakura could hear him asking, demanding, to know who she was. He was paralyzed in pain, but he did not utter a sound beyond a muffled sigh as he leaned back on the alley wall for support.
"No one – she's, she's no one."
It wasn't a lie. Zork could sense it. The darkness retreated, relinquishing its grip on his heart. Bakura could hardly remember her face. He was not sure whether it was from repressing her image so often and so ardently or from the passage of time. The only thing he was sure of was that it was a good thing.
She had been kind to him in his darkest hour. Forgetting her was his only way of returning that kindness.
By the time that the thief had regained his strength, he noticed that it was completely dark out and that he was free to finish his business in this miserable town. He made his way through the street without really paying attention, his mind preoccupied with what was to come when Ra rose again.
He found himself climbing up to the second floor of a familiar, ramshackle building. The third window was left open and he could see the candle that flickered there. She was waiting for him, another stupid girl.
Her dark skin and even darker eyes were nothing special. He did not appreciate the way that she had braided her hair back and away from her face. She was a means to an end. Every time he fucked her, he was able to erase the other one. This girl would suffer only because of her willingness to please. Only because she believed the cruel lies he fed her when she met him that first night.
It was easy to have his way with her. He needed a clear mind to properly execute his plans of revenge. There was no attachment. He did, however, stay with her until dawn was only a few heartbeats away. He always had, and so the girl did not think it was strange.
This time, however, his reasons were not quite so benevolent. He usually stayed because he did not like to be alone at night. It sounded impossible, but it was the paradox of the Thief King. His men had noticed it and that was why they had to be slain, too.
He did not bother to wake her up. The grey morning light was filtering into the room as he lifted his trusty dagger and, with one neat, graceful movement, thrust it clear through her thin neck. He was just covering his tracks.
No one would be able to follow him. No one would be able to track him. Not fast enough, anyway. Not even her.
"Who?" The darkness hissed, coiling around his sandaled ankles and keeping him cold and anchored to the ground despite his attempt to mount his horse.
"No one," he growled. Bakura focused his energy and banished the shadows, pushing them back and away. He pretended that he could not see her, hear her, chained and sealed away in the back of his mind.
"No one."
Um, don't ask me where this came from. I was just writing up a reflection for class and then ... this. Please do, however, tell me what you think. :)
Xx,
Red