Incurable Scars

Thiefshipping

Whenever Marik drifted through his consciousness, toes skimming the boundary separating reality from a dream world, his past haunted him making his skin crawl. He would always start by lying there, opening his eyes only to see Bakura in an eerie, wickedly white mist, his face staring him down with such hatred and loathing, reaching for his neck, his hands clutching his throat increasing the amount of pressure gradually. Having words Marik had written himself, even if Marik felt it was too unpleasant, too shameful for him to entertain he couldn't reject it. Imprinting the words on his own mind being read aloud but with Bakura's harsh yet so angelic voice repeat constantly; You left me, Marik. You left me to wither in the shadow realm. You left me to rot!

Marik always woke in a sweating, trembling ball of sheets and flesh. Only to try to fall back to sleep once more with the little comfort he gained from his surroundings and the remains of the tears he had harshly tried to rub away clinging to his eyelashes.

He had left Bakura in the Shadow Realm. He had always felt guilty of that, but having something confirm that it was his fault, even if it was his own twisted contemplation was like a blow to the stomach. But that snake kept slithering into his mind, taunting him with his fangs and those beautiful eyes. In the end, his mind gave up, even when the snake didn't. He revelled in the creature's dangerous beauty as it drifted into Marik's mind as he slept. He always wondered, had those been dreams, or nightmares? It had the properties of both, pain and fear, pleasure and excitement. It was hard to tell. All Marik knew was that this particular snake would haunt him for many nights to come. He wanted him back, for them to be how they were before all of this mess. Even his voice to reach back through the past just to tell him, he was sorry.

But he was gone. Gone forever. Marik had always tried to deny that he could be until it finally sank in, Marik just wanted to scream. He wanted to hurt himself, to get rid of this feeling, like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. He thought he managed to move on just a little bit, clearly not. Even though Bakura was a pain whenever he was around, his arrogant and mocking nature trying to crawl under Marik's skin, although Marik never realised or even imagined that the pain would be so much stronger when Bakura wasn't there, a vacant hole in his life that no one else could possibly fill, leaving Marik with the never ending agony binding him. Even if they never claimed they had that sort of relationship but he felt it there even if he didn't want to admit it. He wanted to freak out. He hated it. He hated this lack of control.

He had been trying to escape it, the memories that laced through his mind, wrapping tightly around his sanity. Threatening to burst it anytime soon from the heightening pressure, causing the last bit of his saneness left to seep away. He visited different places, travelling like many people his age do, leaving his sister and step brother for a while, claiming it was just to clear his thoughts and get away for a bit. The tomb keeper had fulfilled his duty and the old Pharaoh had finally fulfilled his sacred mission also, Marik had said goodbye to Odion and Ishizu, he wanted to live in the light, yes all three of them moved back to Egypt to start fresh, but it meant for him that he wanted to see the world. Experience every possible form of freedom he should receive and when he did that was what drove him, only then would he come back to his siblings. He slept under different skies, even travelled over many different seas in a vain hope the dreams would finally cease. He never ended up staying in one place any longer than a week. His thoughts would build up too much otherwise if he wasn't doing anything productive with himself. He stayed at whatever accommodation he could find, even if it was a small, shaky motel in the dirtier, poorer district of a buzzing exotic town.

Marik at this point manage to get himself to the western part of Europe. It was near the sea and the sun blazed throughout the day, magnificent and proud in the blue skies despite it being December where most other countries would be in the mists of cold and harsh weather. The residents there seemed as lively as the rays shining upon them. Marik liked this part of his travels; the cheerful zest of the daylight almost distracted him enough to let a smile tug on his lips once and a while even if it was a little forced. After hours of exotic food, colours and people, the end of the day started to dawn on him. It was getting ridiculously late even for the lively inhabitants here, the town was becoming more silent and lifeless as the sun lowered towards the horizon, the flaming tongues of the giant fire ball tickling the edge darkening the landscape and atmosphere. He wandered for some time until he reached the nearest motel he saw, hastily booking a room for himself.

The motel wasn't even close to 'classy' or generally a nice place to stay. The floors creaked with every step you took, the wallpaper was dull and dirty from Ra knows what and nearly every piece of furniture looked like it would explode and turn to dust with the slightest bit of contact. Might as well take a look around town? His thoughts mumbled, and proceeded to do so. Nothing strikingly amazing caught his eye; boredom hit him like a bag of bricks. So after pointless wandering he decided to the check out the small bar next door to his lodgings.

The harsh smell of cigarette smoke and booze instantly filled his nostrils as he strolled through the bar's doors. His eyes almost watering from the overpowering smell that lingered. The dim light also taking toll on his eyesight, he stumbled through the room, perching himself on the nearest stool. Marik's eyes shifted around the room, the dull atmosphere seemed very uncomfortable to him. It was weird, his gaze landed on the small candle in front of him. Its flame flickered and licked at the air. It seemed very taunting. Increasing Marik's uneasiness even more.

"What will be it?" A rough, deep sounding voice interrupted him, Marik jolted in his seat, shaken by the sudden voice. His purple eyes landed upon the bartender. He was a bulky man; his head completely hairless and curvy tattoos were drawn all down his face and extended to his massive arm, some of it hidden behind the sweaty top the man was wearing. His face was twisted in type of annoyed sneer.

Marik ordered a pretty cheap and simple drink, after the bartender gave it to him, he went off to the other end of the bar leaving Marik alone with his thoughts. He took a swig of the drink in hand; the unpleasant taste flowed down his throat leaving a bitter aftertaste burning the back of his throat behind. Marik placed the drink down deciding it was best not to drink any more of the vile stuff and turned his attention back to the small flame. The flame continued to flicker dangerously at him. He felt his hand begin to shake, and he started feeling sharp twinges through his head. He didn't like this feeling; the area around him was too enclosed, as if the walls were closing in on him. He hated this feeling it seemed too vivid, too familiar. His vision started to blur, colours and objects began to merge together as his head pounded.

"It is your destiny to become a tomb keeper!"

My destiny… His thoughts echoed his father's words. Old memories developed hastily, crashing into an atrocious pandemonium against all angles of his skull. A destiny I never even wanted! His mind screamed. All he wanted was freedom, to walk on the surface again, feel the sun's rays warm his toffee coloured skin, and feel the wind rush through his sandy hair one more time. Why couldn't he have that? Why did he have to be denied of that simple desire? Why did he have to spend the rest of his days locked in the darkness? He didn't want to be stuck here for the rest of his miserable life; with all of his chances for freedom vanishing.

He didn't know, he just didn't…

A long, red hot dagger was raised, screams being ripped from his throat until it throbbed from the strain his cries has caused, blood pooling on the floor, the rough texture of the stone slab beneath his heaving chest, the pain the Millennium Rod was inflicting as the blade slashed across his back forming the dark bloody trails of the soon to be scars, Marik's vision disappearing, his mind slipping to unconsciousness, his whole world fading to black as he passed out on the table. Each swerving pattern blistered the boy's skin as the burning hot metal carved into his back with every stroke. The angry, horribly beautiful cuts glistened menacingly in the fire of the chamber.

Marik was clutching his head, eyes clenched shut, twitching from the sharp pains his head was making. One hand pressed against the bar's marble surface, using it to hold himself up. As if it were the only thing keeping him there.

He then saw Bakura, his eyes piecing into his own. The hatred there was terrifying, scalding Marik's own irises just from the radiated glare.

"You left me to rot Marik!" He screamed at him. His face twisting with more rage with each passing second. "Rotting in the shadow realm, I waited for you Marik. For you to come back to me but you never did. I had to eventually find my own way out. Since you never bothered to come back for me or even take me with you when you were released!" The pain in his head increased. What? Now he's trying to haunt me when I'm awake?! His thoughts screeched at him as memories he had gotten rid of a while back pooled in his mind.

"Hey, mate. You alright?" Marik's eyes snapped open, the room started to swift back to normal, no longer giant smudges of dingy colours. His breathing began to return to its normal pace, his headache now only a dull throbbing. Eyes now fully focussed, he looked up at the bartender only to find him cocking an eyebrow.

"Y-yeah I'm fine…" Marik gave a nervous chuckle, which to his dismay only cause the eyebrow to rise a little higher on the rough looking man's face. Marik's lips straightened; now this is awkward he thought. "I- I have to go now." Marik excused himself, practically leaping from the bar stool and in moments was rushing out of the worn out doors.

He hastened away from the bar, not paying any attention to the pandemonium that echoed and swirled around him. Racketing in his eardrums. Marik was abruptly stopped. From tripping against his motorcycle. He lay slumped over it blinking away any make belief sounds his ear drummed into his brain. Sitting himself up, he gazed at the vehicle. The finely sworn leather that clad the seat, the glossy cherry red paint job decorating it, the long mazes of metal baring its machine teeth at any who is near. It was truly a work of beauty. A silent mute, only to be woken by the turn of a handle, giving a fearsome roar that boomed its life like machinery. A companion like no other.

Marik let his eyes close for a brief moment, taking in a salty breath. How he wished he could have told the young, naïve soul that lived in that dark and haunting tomb that he does get a treasure he wanted so dearly, how he would finally be free.

Fluently, the ex-tomb keeper went into the motorcycle's compartment and shoved his helmet on, gripped the clutch and revved the engine, the motion jerked him over the front slightly taking him by surprise and slowing down his reaction time, he regained his composure until the ground beneath him went by in silver flashes and his hair was being whipped back by the wind's force. The anger that was once there dissolved, and new happier feelings bubbled to the surface. The crooks of his mouth twitched, until he was full on grinning, like a psychotic person with many devious plans hidden under his hood. Marik speeded down the deserted alleyways, the wind rushing past his ears, blocking out certain sounds around him. Shapes of shadowed spiny trees and buildings zipped past him as he increased speed, his hair dancing excitedly against the side of his head to the wild rhythm of the breeze. It was an exhilarating feeling.

Dark rain clouds started to form in the sky, threatening to start plummeting waves of rain at any moment. He slowed down and halted at another port, he must have been in the older part of town, as ancient looking structures materialised around him, and some seemed to be affected by harsh erosion over the years. The buildings were close packed together making long and narrow alleyways all across the port line.

Marik slowly slid off his motorcycle, he gazed open the sea once more; he closed his eyes, letting the salty air fill his nostrils. Suddenly a wet drop of something fell on his left cheek. His eyes snapped open, and he altered his gaze to the sky where a giant murky cloud was lurking letting raindrops dive to the earth below. A loud thunder cackled, erupting the heavens, with a long dash of blinding white lightning darting across the sky.

"I didn't think this through…"He muttered to himself bitterly as the small droops of rain began to lightly fall around him.

Sighing heavily, Marik lagged his motorcycle under a canopy of a dusty tattered market stool and took cover. His golden hair now dripping along with his clothing. He crossed his arms together, shivering as icy gusts of wind trembled past him. He thought this was meant to be a hot country?! He let his eyes wonder the small village town, a bored expression was stuck firmly on his face. Unexpectedly someone dashed past Marik's vision as if they were in a rush; Marik jumped at the sudden movement, blinking repeatedly at the spot where the person had last been. Doubting that they were ever there.

"Must have just been a trick of light." He thought a loud, reassuring himself. However that thought vaporised instantly as he saw them again, entering another cross section. Curiosity began to boil in Marik's veins, as he took a step out into the bucketing rain and headed towards the alleyway the person had been. He stopped in his tracks and searched around the buildings. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Just the usual darkness, small gusts of wind, sounds of the waves colliding against the coast, and the old cracked walls. The rain glittered across his sun kissed skin, leaving behind trials of water along the surface. Small circler beads dripped from the ends of his now soaking hair. Marik rubbed his temples. It must have just been my imagination. With this thought in mind He slowly began to turn on his heel, when the figure skipped past his vision again once more, weaving in and out of the alleyways ahead.

Marik rushed forward and began to follow the person. Who the hell would be out at this time of night especially in this weather? Apart from the idiot known as Marik. He added to himself harshly. Interest made the sensitive hairs on Marik's neck stand on end. He whirled around the corner. The figure was playfully alluring as he leaned on the mouth of another alley. That was before he turned around elegantly and slid out of sight. Who the hell is this guy? Before the figure slipped away Marik caught sight of the stranger's eyes, they were a stunning burgundy like crisp apples you'd find in the autumn. Marik followed the figure, catching up with him for a second before the stranger stepped further into the old town, allowing the darkness of the alley to engulf him, the maroon colour of his eyes lingering in the shadows before they vanished as well.

Marik had never witnessed anything like this, someone who could move so speedily and vanish just with a few shadows at hand. The man slid past every junction of the alleyways. Here. Then there. It almost terrified Marik how weird this was. How the stranger almost seemed inhuman. Suddenly a sound erupted in the alleyway, bouncing off the cracked walls around him; it was a weird, unnatural sound.

Laughter...

It was more of a cackle. A deep chuckle that sent chills to his bone. His hair stood. His eyes widened. And he began to sweat, despite the coldness of the weather. Rustling came. But he knew well that there were no trees nearby. Footsteps. Fast moving ones, echoes making it sound as if they were skidding in every direction.

The figure stepped out into the rainy darkness with him. He could see the distant man with long white hair flowing down his back like milk poured from a glass. He had seemed to have stopped running away from him now. Marik heard the soft treading of the strangers feet, Marik glanced at the new comer and every just stopped. His amethyst eyes enlarged as the meet the familiar sangria ones.

The figure he had been following was standing in front of him, eyes narrowed, arms crossed, and stance ever so confident. The moonlight seemed to cast the slightest of exposed pale skin in an ethereal glow. The wind came again fighting against the rain, ruffling his clothes and hair ever so slightly. Marik was stunned. He had never seen anyone look as captivating as the russet brown eyed man in front of him. He was momentarily lost, his own shock restraining him. Nothing had ever looked so sharp, so vibrant, so agonizingly clear before. Each drop of rain was now pouring vigorously, a translucent curtain like marvel, plummeting quickly before him. Every crack in the brick work around them was pronounced; every trail of sparkling rain water glistened, trickling down each man's skin. Each flickering light from the city street and the flashing lightning beyond the alley was as magnificent as a fireworks display.

…Bakura?