Dance With the Devil: Freewrite
Here I am helpless and left for dead…
It was the final time. I vowed the last time I would lie there and submit, thinking this would continue for the rest of my life. It would be the last time Bakura truly hurt me. He had left me broken and bleeding again atop my mattress as he had like so many nights in the past, except this time, instead of retreating into my usual abyss where my feelings reside and I feel nothing, I decided this time I should take action. This time was worse than others; I couldn't move properly for a few days afterward, and I think he had damaged something in my stomach, for my stomach never felt quite right afterward. I didn't go to school until the bruises were mostly gone, for the teachers were becoming suspicious of my excuses. They knew abuse when they saw it.
Countless flashbacks played on a continuous loop in my mind; I could hear my own screaming and his cold, sadistic words beating my heart as much as his fists pounded bruises into my skin. As my mind replayed these incidents, my body replayed the pain, making the pain seem endless. I didn't even know why he did this, and I had spent many days making up excuses for him, something I felt finally, I could no longer do.
Close your eyes, so many days go by.
Many days passed. The attacks came and went, but now they were different. I still didn't fight back, but my will hardened and resolved into a bitter seek for revenge. I knew if Bakura had nothing or no one to take his anger out on, he would have nothing to shield him from taking it out on himself.
Easy to find what's wrong, harder to find what's right.
With Bakura, it always was. There were so many things wrong with him, the way he abused me only scratching the surface of his issues, and yet I always tried to see the good in him. A lot of the time, he would give me a beating I thought I would never get through, never get over, and then he would do something that made him into a sin worth believing in. He would try, sadly, to make up for it. And even more sadly, I accepted this, and let him continue doing it.
I believe in you, I can show you that.
I had once said to him, but I never got the chance. If he didn't believe in himself, and made it so I could no longer believe in him, why should I continue to prove to him he could be better? At this point, did I even believe this myself? I don't know. Perhaps it was a half-hearted wish he would become a better person, a wish I would never get to see fulfilled.
I can see right through all your empty lies.
Bakura told me he cared about me. He told me it was for my own good, so I could become stronger. Once, he even told me he loved me. He also kept telling me I secretly loved this, and that I was in denial about it, that until I admit it to myself and then to him, it would continue to happen the way it was.
I won't stay long, in this world so wrong.
I had to get out. I couldn't bear it anymore; every time I even saw Bakura or his name was mentioned, my skin would crawl, flesh tingling, my stomach writhed in protest, my body already anticipating pain. He haunted me in life, and in my dreams, which were always nightmares.
My friends never noticed the pain I was going through, and how could I ever tell them? How exactly do you start a conversation like that? "Hey Yugi, Bakura's still alive, and he beats me every night, so I'm going to kill myself. But before I do, I want you to know you were a great friend."
Say goodbye, as we dance with the devil tonight….
Every dance with him left me stripped of my pride, my independence, my confidence, my strength. I imagine Bakura regrets what he's done now. Now that he's lost me. Or maybe that hasn't even gotten him to admit to himself what he's done. I'll never know. I really shouldn't care.
Don't you dare look at him in the eye.
I warn you, it's how he shakes you to your core, it's how you give into him, feel the true fear and reality of the situation. He can manipulate you with those eyes. They can freeze you and make you submit. If you want your pride with you when you hopefully walk away, don't look inside them, because those eyes can pick out your insecurities so he can use them against you.
Feeling your cold dead eyes, stealing the life of mine.
They did. They stole my life, and everything I ever had. I just wanted him to care, for I cared for him so deeply deep down inside, but I believe that was beyond his capacity. It was if when his family was murdered, his heart was murdered too.