Oh look, another fic that questions my sanity. I promise I'm not a secret serial killer. And okay, I know there's a bit to read below before you can get onto the actual reading, but an intense fic like this needs a proper list of warnings so that you know without a doubt what you're getting into. This fic is M-rated… probably in almost every way something can be M-rated. If you are easily triggered, I do not recommend reading this, and the below list is why:
The List (dun dun DUN):
Torture
Physical, psychological and emotional abuse
References to drugs and possible non-consensual use
Character depression, suicidal thoughts, self-harm/suicide (or mentions of it)
Violence
Gore
Mentions character deaths (YGO characters, toddlers, children and adults)
Dead/slaughtered animals
Explicit language
Non-con elements, possibly sexual assault and/or rape
Super unsettling dialogue (I want Yami Marik AKA Tall, Dark and Creepy as in-character as possible!)
If I think it's necessary, I'll look at posting some of the more explicit scenes on AO3 only; if I do, I'll let you guys know at the time.
POV: First person
Tense: Present (yup, I'm spicing things up a bit)
Note: This is an alternate universe fic, with no Battle City or thirst for vengeance on Yami, yadda ya. Basically, it doesn't take place in YGO's canon universe.
Now that all the authoress notes are outta the way, I really hope you enjoy!
DEATH WISH
By Ataahua
Introduction
Light floods my vision, immersing me in its warmth, and I reach out blindly, smiling.
Now it's dark and cold and wet.
I'm choking and spluttering, liquid launching from my lungs to slap hard tile, its smudged surface marred with jagged cracks. Gulping for air I wish was water, I crash on a filthy floor, convulsing.
I'd once loved my body as much as any girl can. Now it's my prison. I loathe it, well and truly; how it's designed to hurt; how it's designed to fear; how it's designed to survive, to betray me, to sate him.
I somehow sob between gasps, cold water lapping against my bare skin. Then a grated chuckle slithers through the atmosphere like a cruel, arctic chill; I freeze instantly, so still that the water settles. His leather boots slap through liquid, throwing droplets across my pastel skin, seeping into scars both old and new.
"Well, that was quite amusing." His voice is deep, grated, almost inhuman, coming from somewhere behind me. "Wouldn't you agree, my little pet?"
My breaths are barely level when a large hand clasps my bony wrist, the pale flesh blighted by chains only recently removed, and I'm yanked to my feet. My knees nearly buckle. My stomach is heavy for the first time in months, liquid still sloshing within it, threatening to spew forth. His laugh echoes in my eardrums, thick with manic pleasure as I'm pulled against him, my gaunt back against his chest.
His clothes are dripping like melted ice, yet his skin is like fire against my quivering flesh. Some tiny, disgusting part of me savours it, that scarce sensation of warmth in this bitter, barren prison. The rest of me is terrified, tasting bile in my throat. That terror only heightens as he grinds against me, hard and hungry, stirred by my suffering. He always is. I don't need the blindfold ripped off to know it.
I know a grin has split his lips as they graze my ear. "Tell me you enjoyed today's little game," he murmurs, his tongue flicking out to wet my earlobe, to taste my fear. "Tell me how you enjoyed the way your body thrashed and fought against me, its thirst for air merely quenched by the week-old water of a barely standing tub." He chuckles in my ear. "How eventually, it slackened against steel, relinquishing to its master… like the obedient marionette that you are."
His fingers trace sickening patterns across my shoulders; he's savouring the way they stagger with each sob that surges in my lungs.
"You didn't really think that was the end, did you? That your death would be so swift… so painless… so utterly dignifying?" The irony of his words have him chuckling. "Oh no, my dear. Your demise will be none of those things, I assure you… No no no no." His words are sickeningly soft as his fingers encase my chin, vile and warm, his thumb tracing my cheek. "I plan on savouring your final moments, your last breath in this world with me today."
I sense him scrutinising my pallid face, eyeing me like a lion does its prey. "With each tear you shed, I'll taste your terror… your agony… your loneliness… the way I shattered that ardent spirit of yours." I wilt, helpless as his tongue traverses my cheek. "And my my my, will I enjoy gazing upon those eyes as what little life remains within them is slowly, delectably drained from their depths." His fingers brush against my scalp, coiling around short strands of strawberry blonde. "At my hands, of course."
A pitiful cry pries my lips apart as he yanks the rag from around my skull, revealing a grimy, old bathroom shrouded in shadows. Everything is familiar. Except one thing.
Fear swallows a sob, jamming it in my throat, as my sight adapts to the murky shadows that dominate the sullied space. Directly ahead, on a splintered, grungy counter, death stares me straight in the face.
And silent tears stream down my cheeks.