1:
Do you remember the first time we met?
Its details still seem so clear. 'Like it was yesterday', as they say. It's the only memory that seems clear to me before I met you. And how can that be? How can I only remember a person I knew for 2 years over a life of 17?
Nothing was easy about those two years but I lived for their every second. The person I was died after that day we met. Replaced by someone that lived only for you. You oppressed me and you thrived on it.
"Ryou, this came from Egypt. A stand in Al-Minya was selling artifacts from the 19th Dynasty."
My father had smiled widely as he held out the present that would contain you.
The package was small, its plain blue paper crumpled around its awkward sides and my name scribbled across the top in haste.
To Ryou. It simply stated.
"Happy Birthday."
You probably think I felt some power or an evil when the gold necklace slid into my hands. But nothing happened. To me it was just another meaningless gift from a father that was never around.
And there was nothing unordinary about it.
I sang my praise to my father as I placed it around my neck, planning to put it on a cluttered shelf along with the other gifts I'd received over the years.
We both knew that stand wasn't selling artifacts from a distant ancient dynasty. The gift was from a last minute thought, grabbed in haste and cheap to buy.
Father and I never had much to speak about. To me, he was just a stranger that occasionally visited. The small duffle bag he always brought home lay unopened next to the door. He probably wouldn't even stay the night. You'd probably discourage me from speaking badly about my father. I suppose it comes from living in a time when fathers were held in high respect.
It wasn't long after I'd said goodnight, retreating to my room that I heard the front door shut. He will have left a note and money on the counter telling me an urgent call had come in. It was always the same, but it seemed best that way.
I tossed the necklace on my cluttered desk, soon it would be long forgotten, like the father I wished to forget. I didn't hate him. I just didn't need him. Since my mother had died, he'd given up on me and a family. And I just wanted to do the same.
I remember that night I couldn't sleep. I lay there forever before finally deciding to get up. The room was messy and I began putting things away out of boredom. I picked the ring up to put it up on my shelf so that I could clean off the desk.
And that was when it happened.
Isn't it strange? How it came that I would grab the ring—to me something that would be better thrown away than kept?
That I happened to not be able to go to sleep.
Happened to clean up the room.
Happened to pick up the ring.
And when you appeared. I laugh now at how scared I had been. But who wouldn't be? A figure appearing in their room. Someone that even looked like me.
I stood there in a terrified silence as your eyes scanned the room. Would you have even looked at me if the ring hadn't been in my shaking hands? You asked me questions. Where were you, what year was it? But never my name.
And then you left. And the room seemed so silent. I think I forgot how to breathe. I must have stood there forever, frozen to the same spot you had found me in. It had all happened so quickly. You had only been there for mere minutes.
Why didn't I cast you off then as being in my head? Wouldn't that have been the logical response? But somehow, I knew. I knew you were real. And I began to wait.
I began to wait for when you would come out again…
-
Over the next few months you came out only a few times. You would always ask those same questions before you would leave again. And always before I could ask anything in return or gained the courage to do so.
I vowed I would. Only to just know your name. I can't tell you why I thrived on our interactions so much. I guess because I always stayed alone. I didn't really make friends. And so I waited. Next time I would.
And waiting for that moment would prove to be my destruction and liberation.
I obsessed over you. I'd study the ring for hours, running my finger over the intricate design, researching artifacts from the dynasties of Ancient Egypt, searching for anything, anything that would tell me about you or where you came from.
I wanted to know why you were here. Did you control when you came out? Did you live so long ago? 3000 years? How could I believe that a man had been trapped in this necklace for so long? As the questions piled up my desperation to see you again grew. I wasn't sure what I would say to you when you finally did come out. I was sure to erupt with questions, grab the ring in some childish attempt to keep you from returning to it.
That day a little over 2 months since my birthday was the day when you did. I had been lying there reading when your gruff voice broke the silence.
And the first thing you had asked me for was my name. I had sat up quickly, staring at you in anticipation, nerves, fear, too many emotions for one person to feel.
"My-my name?" My heart was pounding. You had finally come out. And I was sitting there speechless, every vow I'd made to myself seeming absurd and improbable.
"Yes." You weren't even looking at me, your eyes were always searching. Like you were trying to memorize every detail before you would return to the ring.
"Ryou…um…what's…yours?"
"Bakura."
And you looked at me.
I didn't know what to say now. And I began to panic that you were going to leave again. You were just looking at me. Waiting for me to speak.
"Are you a ghost?"
You scoffed, "No."
"Oh." Now what? I didn't want you to leave but I didn't have the courage to ask anything else. I looked over your sharp features. It was the only way I knew how to describe them. You were unlike anyone I'd ever seen. It wasn't just about the way you dressed, it was everything, your face, your hands, your legs. I found you to be beautiful. Some mystery that I wanted to know more about.
But whenever you came out you always seemed to be so far away. I'd noticed it last time. I wanted you to be closer.
"You can step closer." I encouraged. Maybe we could be friends, I'd thought.
You smirked at my words, like I had spoken something so ignorantly. I know now why you did. But then I just smiled as you stepped forward, sitting down on the end of the bed, your back towards me.
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen." I wanted to reach out and touch you. Would my hand go through you? Would you feel warm? Like any other person or would you be cold? My hands began to hesitantly reach towards you. To the deep red coat that lay splayed behind you.
"How old are you?" I asked, my eyes locked on the coat as my fingers tentatively grazed closer.
"3020."
"Did you die when you were 20?"
"No."
My hand was there, I gasped as my fingers met the soft red fabric. It was in an instant that your hand grabbed mine, pushing me back. Your body looming over mine. Your body crushing into mine. I cried out in pain as you squeezed my wrist harder, glaring threateningly down at me. Your eyes were filled with a malicious hate. I regretted ever wanting you to come out. What was I thinking? I didn't know you. You were coming out of a ring for Gods sakes. I should have thrown the thing away after the first instant.
"You don't touch what isn't yours." You growled, your face close to mine. Teeth bared like some kind of dog. My whole body was shaking, I couldn't speak. I stared at you in fear and confusion of what you would do.
"You're a fool for speaking to me." I didn't know how to respond, your weight was still crushing down on me. "You've made it too easy for me to take control." I could feel your hand grip my side, nails digging into me. "It takes a toll on someone to live in a trinket for 3000 years. I've been regaining strength. "
"I—" The weight was too much for me to be able to breathe, choking on the few words I tried to speak.
"Ryou," You spoke with a sneer.
"I'll control you."
- - -
The pain was unbearable as you thrusted into me. You were ripping me apart. My blood was trickling down my thighs and onto the bed sheets, my face pressed hard into the sheets. You grunted with each push in and out of me—nails digging into my arms. And yet all I could do was lay there and suffer through it. I was too weak to move, too weak to cry out, too weak for anything.
You lived up to the words you had spoken to me. You had begun to control me and I didn't know why or what I had done to deserve it.
The body I had once looked at in admiration and awe had become something I feared and hated. The arms that once had stayed folded across your chest when you first appeared were now used to cut and hurt me. The face that had once seemed so beautiful—eyes that I longed to see me were now filled with hatred and sadism.
You told me I was ugly and worthless as you came inside my broken body.
You told me my only use was a slut, laughing that my cock had turned an angry deep red from the string you'd tied around it.
You made me beg for release. Disgusted when I did. You made me believe the things you said. You made me fear you. Hate you. And obey you.
I accepted the things that had happened. Believing they were my own fault. If I hadn't encouraged you, if I'd just ignored you or even thrown you away that first night, then this wouldn't have happened.
I never knew what sparked your sudden anger and dominance over me. You had seemed okay. Was that it? Had that been your way of making me feel you were safe until you were capable of staying out of the ring longer than a few minutes?
I hated myself for keeping the ring. I hated my father for giving it to me. I hated my naivety.
I was a fool…
I was worthless like you said.
AN: Whew, I took forever to post this! [Chapter 1 of 5]