I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh or any of its characters.
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I was laid on the bed. It wad dark outside, my eyes where closed and the bitter silence felt calming. I gently touched the satin sheets under my fingertips. I grasped them and fingered them gently. Drop. Drop. Drop. The angry rain raced at the window, I opened my eyes for a moment, just to daze at the beauty of the patterns, painted onto my window with the droplets. It felt to calm, so relaxing. Gazing at the cold, harsh rain, glowing on the glass with light shining in from the street. My eyes drifted downwards to the digital clock at my bedside. 02:41AM. I sighed. Guess he wasn't coming home tonight. I ran my hand through my white, tangled hair. Pulling my hand before my face, I cringed in disgust. My long slender hands matched the colour of my hair. White. Pale. A ghost. The sole purpose of my being is to die. It's why I am here. For him. For his amusement. To be beaten. To be hurt. To be used. I love him. I shouldn't, but I do. I tried so hard not to, to hate him for what he does to me, to hate him for bruising and beating me. But I love him. But I know that he could never love me.
A warm, smooth hand caressed my face. I opened my eyes. Before me stood the object of my desire. My Yami. My Bakura. I stared into his terrifying red eyes. He smirked; it was never good when he smirked. I backed down the bed, hitting my head on the bed post. I yelped. I shouldn't have done that. Pain shows weakness, and the weak don't deserve to live. I tensed, awaiting my beating. I looked away-I can't look into his eyes, it'll only make the pain worse. I won't do it. I am weak.
He leans in. I can smell the alcohol on his breath. He clumsily pulls my face to his, gripping my collar.
"What…have…you-been-doing?" He shakes me around involuntary. I cannot lie to him; he can read my thoughts, my feelings. He is me.
"Cooking, your dinner is in the fridge, and then I cleaned the living room and went to bed." He frowned at me. His eyes could burn through my skull, I swear. He takes hold of a lock of my hair tightly and violently throws me across the bed.
"B-B-Bakura?" I stuttered. Weakness.
"You're pathetic Ryou, do you know that?" I solemnly nod. I know I'm weak Bakura. I know I'm Pathetic. I love you. "I don't tolerate weakness." I swallow hard awaiting my punishment.
"Y-Y-Yes, Bakura." I turn away sharply as his fist connects with my cheek. I shut my eyes, feeling the blows to my ribs, to my legs, to my head. I can feel something ripping, slowly up my arm. I can feel liquid flow down the indent. I open my eyes to see my arm bleeding slowly, one sight of the passionate red liquid, and my world turns to black once more.