Sorry I'm so, so late...I have more excuses in the bottom A/N, just take my apologies for now. This is probably going to be a twoshot now, because it grew to epic lengths, and omg I couldn't get myself to shut up and write for the life of me. Be glad I haven't gotten my Tumblr yet.

I own a cool orange belt, which is the only thing I've acquired so far for my Marik cosplay. I don't own Yugioh.

"So I'm going to be working a lot while we're in Detroit, but we'll definitely set aside a few days to go sightseeing together. I was thinking I'd take you to the Detroit Institute of Art. And the Ford Rouge Factory is just a short drive outside the city, we'll need to check that out. I know you don't know a lot about the area, but can you think of anything you'd like to do out there? Bakura?"

I rest my head against the window pane. "I don't care."

Uncle Akefia chuckles to himself. "Oh come on, you must be thrilled. You've been cooped up in that house for far too long, Kuku. You need to get out and see the world."

"No. I really couldn't care less."

He sighs, his fake smile sliding off his face. His hand reaches out to touch my shoulder, and I fight the urge to brush it off. "Bakura. I know you're upset about a lot of things, but you need to talk to me. You'll feel better, I guarantee it."

I adjust my seatbelt. "I don't need to tell you anything. I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Uncle Akefia sighs, taking his hand away and putting it back on the steering wheel. "I'm really worried about you, Kuku. You're so depressed."

"No, I'm not. And stop calling me that."

"I thought you liked being called Kuku. It's what your parents called you."

I ignore the painful twing in my heart. "It's a stupid nickname. I don't like being called that."

There's a long pause, as if Uncle Akefia is thinking hard about my words. "Alright. I'll stop using it. But I personally think it's a better alternative to the millions of cat-related nicknames I can think of."

Ick. "I don't want any nicknames," I say, picking at my nails. "Just call me Bakura. That's what my parents actually named me."

"Fine." Uncle continues to drive, but he makes no effort to converse with me. I think I pissed him off. I really don't care all that much. He can be angry all he wants.

Though the car ride is sort of boring without conversation. I miss Marik, and all his mindless chatter. He could go on about one subject forever. When we get back I should record him babbling away for a few hours so I can listen to it if we're ever separated again.

"How are you doing, Bakura?" My Uncle asks, peering at me out of the corner of his eye. I shift in my seat.

"What do you mean, how-"

"How are you feeling? Are the medications I'm giving you working?" He asks, a hopeful tone in his voice. "Do you still feel as depressed?"

I consider lying to him. I shrug my shoulders. "Not really."

"Are you sure? You can tell me if you're depressed, Ku-, Bakura. I'm just trying to make you feel better."

"Well, I'm fine." I try fiddling with the radio dials, turning the sound up. Akefia turns the stereo off.

"Seriously. I am 100% committed to making you feel better. I don't want to repeat what we went through right before Marik came."

I stay silent. Uncle waits for a long minute before sighing.

"I love you, Bakura."

My Uncle turns the radio back on, flicking on his turn signal and merging onto the highway. I rest my forehead against the glass and close my eyes, willing sleep to come.

We drive for hours. I pretend to sleep. Uncle doesn't bother me. Sometime in the afternoon he pulls into a fast food drive-thru and orders us food. I take the opportunity to climb in the back and dig a book out of my bag. I read for the rest of the ride.

Eventually the sun begins to set, and I start to think that we're just going to keep driving through the night. But Uncle pulls off the highway before it gets dark, and soon we are parked in front of a small, crappy motel. Uncle Akefia turns the car off and unbuckles his seat belt, turning to look at me seriously before getting out of the car.

"I'm going to get us a room for the night. You stay in here, and do not, under any circumstances, open the door for anyone besides me. Do I make myself clear, Bakura?"

I nod, a little surprised. Uncle leans across the seat and brushes his lips against my forehead before opening the car door and getting out.

The locks click down as my Uncle walks away from the car. I wonder if he realizes that I could easily unlock the car from the inside and run away from him. I just roll my eyes and try to read by the dimming light.

Uncle Akefia is back within minutes, swinging a little bronze key on a chain. "Place is cheap as fuck, but as long as they have a bed and a door that locks…" He mutters to himself.

I grab my duffel bag and get out of the car. I pause for a second to stretch my cramped muscles, but Uncle Akefia quickly grabs my arm and pulls me away from the car, to a green door with the number eleven written across the top.

My Uncle practically throws me inside, shutting the door quickly behind him and jamming the key into the lock. I quickly find the bed and set my bag down. "What the fuck are you so worried about?"

"You know, you're just asking to have your ass tanned," My Uncle barks at me, his eyes narrowing angrily. I turn away, fishing a pair of pajama pants out of my duffel and slipping them on. Uncle crosses the room and turns the television on.

"Don't you want to take a shower or something?" He asks. I shrug.

"I always shower in the morning." And I take them with Marik.

Uncle sighs and opens his own suitcase.

We pass the next few hours in relative silence. The room is tiny, with only enough space to cram in a dresser with a TV on top, a double bed, and a flimsy looking chair pushed into the corner. But it's surprisingly clean. No dirt, no bugs.

I do check the bathroom out eventually. It's tiny, like the rest of the room. The shower is miniscule. I hope Uncle isn't planning on showering here. I doubt he'd fit.

Uncle keeps the television on, but hardly pays attention to it. He busies himself with tapping on his phone and writing things into a notebook. I sit in the uncomfortable chair and read my book. At some point I ask Uncle what he's planning to do about dinner, and he responds by grabbing a bag of potato chips out of his suitcase and throwing it in my direction. He says he can't leave me alone to go get food. I just roll my eyes and eat the chips.

Eventually Uncle gets tired and puts his stuff away. He tells me to turn off the light and get in bed with him. I hesitate before sliding under the covers, both because it's been forever since I've slept in a bed that's not my own and because I really don't feel like having sex tonight.

I get in bed. I lay down on the edge of the mattress, facing away from Akefia.

I can't remember the last time I slept with my Uncle like this, besides the few days where I was blind to the world and needed him twenty-four seven. A while ago, before Marik came, Uncle Akefia would come in to sleep with me all the time. He had gotten another job and could hardly ever visit me during the day, so he was usually exhausted by the time he got there. Usually he'd just kick off his shoes and climb into bed fully-clothed. Half the time, we didn't even have to have sex.

Uncle quickly comes up behind me and pulls me closer to the center of the bed. He wraps his arms around my waist and kisses my neck once before burying his face in my hair.

"I love you. So much."

I bite my lip. I can't respond.

"I know you're upset about being separated from Marik. I promise, this was for your own protection."

From who? Mariku? Does he just not care that Marik is still stuck with him?

"I'll take you back as soon as it's safe. But now," He twists a lock of my hair in his hand. "Now we can just enjoy our little vacation."

"This isn't a vacation," I mutter.

"Hush." Akefia runs his fingertips over my eyelids. "A break from reality. It's new scenery, Bakura. Why can't you just appreciate it?"

"Because."

"'Because' isn't an answer."

"Because this is stupid. I'm not-" I pause to catch my breath. "I'm not something to be fought over. I'm not an excuse you can use to fight with Mariku."

"You think this is about Mariku?"

"Kind of, yeah."

"Bakura…" Uncle pulls on my shoulder. "Bakura, face me."

I consider not, just to piss him off, but decide it's not worth the trouble. I turn over and Uncle immediately pulls me close, resting his forehead against mine. He lies there, breathing, for a long minute before opening his mouth.

"Bakura, this isn't about Mariku at all."

"But you said you didn't feel comfortable leaving me with-"

"Okay, yeah, that part was about him." Uncle pulls on the covers. "I'm sorry, but I don't want you alone with him. He's crazy, and I don't want to know what shit he'd pull if his craziness went unchecked."

I've been alone with him for what? Six years? More?

"But you're fine with leaving Marik alone with him?"

"Marik's not my nephew. And keep your voice down, these walls are paper thin."

"But he's my friend." I pull away slightly. Uncle lets me. "And you care about him. Aren't you worried about him? Even a bit?"

Uncle Akefia yawns. "Bakura…"

"No, I want you to answer me."

"It's late." He pulls me closer and kisses me on the forehead. "We're sleeping now."

"But-"

"No talking back. I said we're sleeping. That's final."

I shut my mouth. Uncle soon falls asleep, his arms wrapped tight around me. I lay awake for a long time, wishing that going home was an option.

We wake up before the sun rises.

Uncle has me dress fast and throws the key on the dresser before marching me out, leaving the motel door swinging open behind us. Uncle doesn't turn his headlights on until we're on the highway.

"Did you just stiff the motel on the bill?" I ask while opening a can of soda.

Uncle cracks the window and lights a cigarette. "Maybe."

"Aren't you supposed to be setting a good example for me or something?"

"Well, you're already lecturing me about it, so I'm going to assume that you know walking out on a bill is wrong." Uncle Akefia taps his ash outside the window.

I adjust my seatbelt. "So are we going to do that from now on? Just avoid paying for hotel rooms?"

"Probably not. I can't exactly risk getting arrested, you know."

"Not with me with you…" I mumble.

Akefia takes another hit. "Other reasons too."

I turn towards him. "Why are you being so secretive about this?" I ask.

"Dammit, Bakura, why do you have to ask so many questions?"

"Because you never tell me anything. If you had just told me what was up yesterday, I'd shut up and not talk to you for the rest of the trip."

"But I want you to talk to me, Bakura," Uncle says softly. "I want you to feel comfortable with me."

I scoff. "Don't try to change the subject. Don't make this about me."

He sighs. "Look, it's a bit more complicated than you think. You wouldn't understand."

"I understand a lot. If you stopped treating me like a child, you'd probably realize I'm smarter than you think."

"Bakura you are a child."

If I were a child, I throw a fit. I'd scream and stomp my feet. But I'm not a child. Not anymore.

"I'm thirteen years old! I'm not the little seven-year-old you picked off the side of the road anymore!"

"Bakura-"

"You seem to think I'm old enough to have sex. If I'm old enough to do that, I can handle stuff like this."

Uncle is quiet for a long time. Finally, he stubs his cigarette out and opens his mouth. "I got in some trouble."

I'm quiet. I think he's not going to finish for a moment, but then he continues on.

"I got in some trouble, and I have to do some things in Detroit to fix it. I'm not going to give you specifics. You don't need to know them, and it might put you at risk if you knew everything that was going on."

I stay silent.

Uncle glances at me once with a sad expression before turning his attention back to the road. "I don't think you're old enough to have sex," He says quietly. "I've never thought that."

"Then why do you make me do it?"

He sighs. "It's complicated. I just…I couldn't help myself, Bakura. I tried to restrain myself, but I failed. I can't even put into words how sorry I am."

"You know, being sorry doesn't make it go away," I point out.

"I know," Uncle sighs, reaching over to run his fingers through my hair. "I know."

He pets my hair for a minute longer before returning his hand to the steering wheel. "You know, sometimes I wish I was insane like Mariku. Then I could do whatever I wanted and just tell myself that it was the voices or some other weird shit that goes on in his brain. But I know I made the choice, and you suffered because of it."

"So why don't you try fixing it?"

Uncle looks at me. "I can't."

"Of course you can." I do my best to look uninterested. "Just let me and Marik go. Problem solved."

"I couldn't." He places his hands back on the steering wheel, staring intently out at the road. "I'd go to prison. Your father would never forgive me."

"So those things are more important than me. Than my life."

"No Bakura, its-" He rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "It's way more complicated than that. Believe me, if I could just let you go to live your own life, I would. If I could take it all back, I would. But I can't. I'm sorry but that's the reality of it."

"I understand. I'm just really far down on your list of things that are important to you."

"Bakura, you are the most important thing in my life," He says sharply. "There is nothing in the world more important than you."

I scoff.

"You have to believe me."

"I don't."

He sighs. "I can't make you believe something, I guess. But I do. I love you so, so much. Everything I do is for you, you know."

I roll my eyes. Uncle stays silent for the rest of the trip.

Akefia finds a cheap motel right outside Detroit. It's not one big building like the last motel we were at. There's probably about twenty little hut type things lined up in two neat rows behind a short, squat building. We repeat the whole 'stay away from strangers' act before Uncle goes inside to get a room. He comes back with the key to number fourteen. We even get our own parking spot outside our hut.

Uncle makes me flip the hood of my sweatshirt up as we move from the car to the motel room. He tells me to stay inside; he'll take care of our stuff.

There's at least a bit more room in this motel. A heavy wooden table with a chair sits in front of the front window, giving us a nice view of my Uncle's crappy car. A good-sized bed is lined up against the adjacent wall, a large television set up across from it. Two doors are set up on the opposite wall, one normal and one accordion-style door. The normal door leads to the bathroom, which is decently sized and actually contains a shower-bathtub. The accordion door opens to reveal a clunky white refrigerator, a cheap looking stove, and a tiny bit of counter space. Uncle tells me that there is a laundromat on the motel property, so all our basic needs are taken care of.

Whoopie.

Uncle leaves to get us food, and I busy myself with organizing my crap. I figure I'm going to be stuck here a while, so there's no point in leaving all my stuff in my duffel. My toothbrush is the first thing to come out, finding its place on the counter of the sink in the bathroom. Things like shampoo, toothpaste, and shaving cream are all in my Uncle's suitcase, so I don't bother with those. I stack the books I decided to bring along according to length and width, setting them on the windowsill. I hesitate when my fingers brush against my sketchpad, but I bring that out as well, placing in on the table.

I turn back to my duffel. I can live with my clothes being in there, but I should probably fold them a bit nicer so they don't get wrinkled. I plop down on the floor and begin re-folding all my clothes.

My hand lands on something purple, and I hesitantly pull it out. I don't own anything purple. Not unless you count that purple thong Mariku made me wear when I was nine. I burned it when I got my stove, but I'm just waiting for the day it comes back to haunt me as a ghost.

I unfold the sweatshirt to find NEW YORK UNIVERSITY emblazoned on the chest. I smile a bit. Marik sent his favorite sweatshirt with me.

I bury my nose in the fabric, inhaling deeply. It still smells like him. I'm pretty sure he wore this the day before I left and hadn't bothered to wash it.

Well, screw it. I'm wearing it now.

Uncle sees the sweatshirt when he comes back. He knows it's Marik's because he's the one who bought it. He actually bought it for me, but it was too big for me and I don't like purple anyways, so I gave it to Marik. Purple is his favorite color.

He narrows his eyes when he sees the shirt, but refrains from saying anything.

Uncle lays down the rules after we've eaten dinner.

"No going outside. Unless this place is on fire, you stay in here. Don't answer the door for anyone besides me, and if I have to open the door for someone, you hide. Got it?"

"Got it." I fiddle with my pencil, shading in the nose on the man I'm drawing. Akefia's eyelid twitches ever so slightly.

"Alright, so we have that part covered." He sits down on the bed. "I have beer in the fridge and cigarettes in my suitcase. You are not to touch any of it. I'm going to trust you and not lock them up. I am locking up my razors, though. If you-"

My head snaps up. "Wait, you trust me with alcohol, but not with a stupid little razor?"

Uncle sighs. "I wish I could trust you, Bakura. But it's not like you've proven to me that I can."

"I haven't cut myself in two years." Lie. I spread out my arms, still covered by Marik's sweatshirt, as if that proves anything. "I'm fine."

"I don't believe you. You stopped cutting yourself when Marik came into your life, but I still…I still don't feel comfortable." He looks at the ground briefly, adjusting his position on the bed.

"What's going to make you feel comfortable?" I ask, waving my arms. "Do I need to sign a contract saying I won't self-harm or something? What should I do, Uncle?"

"Truth be told, you should be seeing a therapist and taking prescription anti-depressants, but that's not really an option here." Uncle kneads his temples with his thumb, avoiding eye contact with me. "Okay, here's the deal. I'm going to trust you. I'm going to trust that you won't hurt yourself again. I will be checking you every night for cuts, Bakura. If I find one, just one, I'll lock up everything sharp and we'll be back to square one. Am I clear, Bakura?"

"Crystal." I turn back down to my drawing, but Uncle snatches the charcoal pencil out of my handand grabs my sketchpad.

"It's late. I need to be up early tomorrow, and you need your sleep."

"I'm not a child. You don't need to tell me to go to bed."

"Bakura, for once in your life, could you just shut your mouth and listen to me?" Uncle slams the sketchpad down on the table, the pencil flying out of his hand and skittering across the floor. He stands there, seething for a moment, before pushing his hand through his hair. "Just…please. I'm tired. You must be tired. Let's just go to bed."

"Fine." I get to my feet, reaching into my duffel bag and digging out a pair of pajama pants. Uncle's been wearing a pair of sweatpants he usually wears to bed since he first got home. He sits down on the bed, watching me intently as I change. I could say it felt creepy, but after so many years of exhibition and unwanted sex, I can't say I care very much.

Uncle turns off the lamp as I slide into bed. He seems to hesitate for a minute before sliding over and wrapping his arms around me.

"You know I love you, right? You know I'd do anything for you."

I stay silent.

"Bakura?

Silence.

"Answer me."

Nope.

"Bakura…" Uncle sighs. "Bakura, Bakura, Bakura…"

He grips me tighter and leans in close, so his mouth is near my ear.

"I'm sorry," He says. "I know it's doesn't mean much at this point, but I am sorry."

I turn away from him. Akefia brushes my hair back from my ear.

"I just can't help myself," He whispers.

I tighten up, waiting for the move. But Uncle seems to stop there. He doesn't move, he doesn't speak. Eventually his breathing evens out and I'm forced to believe he's fallen asleep.

I'm awoken by the sound of something metallic hitting the floor and a muffled curse.

I sit up and immediately notice that my Uncle isn't in bed with me. I quickly reach over to the nightstand and click on the light.

Uncle stands at the floor of the bed, fiddling with his belt. He's completely dressed.

"What are you doing?"

Uncle finishes with his belt and sits down on the bed to pull his socks on. "I'm leaving for work. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

I slide out of the covers. "What has you going to work in the middle of the night?"

"Well, for starters, it's not the middle of the night. It's early morning, and it just so happens that it's winter and the sun rises extremely late at this time of year. And what I'm doing while we're here is none of your business."

"In hindsight, it kind of is." I get back under the covers. "It is the reason I'm here too, after all."

Uncle clucks his tongue and gets to his feet. "You're safer not knowing all the details." He steps around the bed, leaning over and kissing my forehead. "Go back to sleep. I won't be here when you wake up, so find yourself something productive to do. And remember that I'm trusting you."

"Whatever," I mumble, laying my head back on the pillow. Uncle brings the covers up to my chin and clicks the light off.

"I'm locking the door. Remember the rules, and be safe. I love you."

It's boring here.

There's absolutely nothing to do. No one to talk to.

I can read. And draw. And watch TV. Not much else, really. I guess that's a dream for most kids, back when I lived with my parents and went to school every day, I would have loved to sleep in and do nothing all day but the things I enjoyed.

But it gets old. Fast. And boring. I need to do things, learn about things, accomplish things. And I can't do that sitting in a fucking motel all day.

I make sure to watch the news every morning. It's something to wake up for. And I don't feel so cloistered when I learn about what goes on outside my prison. Even though there's a different set of news being reported here in Detroit than in Domino, it's still news.

The TV gets annoying after a while, and I have to turn it off after the news is done because it gives me a headache. Marik likes to watch TV throughout the day, and I try to let him, but it usually hurts my head too much. Sometimes the headaches get really bad and I just snap at him. Then I feel bad because he feels bad, but then I remind myself that he should feel bad. He doesn't need to watch TV all fucking day.

I usually read most of the day. Uncle shoplifts a few books from a bookstore not too far from here so I have some new things to read. They're all long books written for adults, but Uncle just says I need to be 'challenged' with my reading material or whatever. They're not very hard.

At some point in the day I switch to drawing. I didn't draw much back at Mariku's, just because Marik was there and I felt bad for ignoring him all the time. But there's not much else to do here, unless I want to get carpel tunnel or something from watching TV all the time.

I draw the Blue Woman a lot. I don't know who she is or why she visits me all the time, but I get the feeling that she wants to help me. She never says anything, though. Not even when I dream about her. Sometimes she cries softly.

Sometimes I like to draw Marik. I never draw the two of us together. He looks actually happy in my pictures. Free.

One day I get really bored and decide to go through my Uncle's stuff. He has two bags, a suitcase and a briefcase he keeps in the room. The briefcase is locked and I don't know the combination, and I truly don't care enough to mess with it. His suitcase contains regular clothing things and whatnot, but at the bottom of the pile I find a couple of glossy magazines.

A thin, blonde woman adorns the cover, a polka-dot pink bra covering her bulbous tits. PLAYBOY is spelt out across the top in bright green letters. There are several magazines underneath, all with the same name and all with girls just as or less scantily clad as the first.

I flip through them, expecting to feel…something. Being aroused. But I don't feel anything. I find these breast things weird, and a little gross. Almost like flabs of fat hanging off their chests.

Even though they're gross, I use the magazines to practice drawing breasts. I figure it's good practice, and this way my pictures of women will look a bit more realistic.

Uncle notices that his stuff has been rifled through after dinner. He stands up straight, rubbing his temples.

"I shouldn't be mad…you are a thirteen-year-old boy, after all…you're curious…" He mumbles.

Later that night, we have a very awkward talk about masturbation. Uncle goes into a rant about how it's 'natural' and 'normal' and I shouldn't feel ashamed, blah blah blah. I just ignore him. He's being stupid, after all.

I spend another couple of days, bored out of my mind, doing nothing. I really, really wish I could still talk to Marik. I forgot how easily bored I was before he came. Not to say I'm happy he came to live with us. I hate the fact that Marik lives with me now.

Uncle has mentioned leaving the motel room a few times and going out to see the city, but he hasn't said anything about it in a while. I don't know if he's afraid or what. But I'm a little pissed. I'm bored. He dragged me halfway across the country to sit in this motel room, basically.

One day I get especially bored. I've read everything readable in the room, drawn for a bit, even watched some TV. Nothing can keep me occupied. I am fully and incurably bored.

The only possible salvation from my boredom lies within Uncle Akefia's stuff. I can't open his briefcase, so everything inside that is off-limits. His Playboys hold no interest for me. And if I decide to smoke some of his cigarettes, he'll know the minute he walks through the door. Plus I don't know how to smoke. With my luck, I'd set the place on fire.

The last possibility is his beer. Uncle told me not to get into his alcohol, but he's also told me a lot of things that turned out to be lies. He owes me.

I take one can of beer out of the fridge and crack it open. It smells like death, insanity, and piss. I plug my nose before taking a sip. It tastes the same as it smells.

Uncle bought a big bag of M&M's the other day as a reward for my good behavior, so I use that to chase away the sour taste of beer. It still tastes like piss.

I drink the entire can in one sitting, tossing it onto the floor. I pop another handful of M&M's into my mouth and crack open another can. Then another can.

Uncle always told me that being drunk was a shitty experience, but I can't understand what he was talking about. I am LOVING this. The beer still tastes horrible and I have to hold my breath between sips, but it feels like someone has instantly decompressed every muscle in my back and sucked away all the bad memories and thoughts in my head.

Another can. I wish Marik was here. Even though he hates alcohol, and he does because his dad was such a drunk, he'd still get a kick out of this. I notice the bathroom door is open and I attempt to throw an empty can at it to close it. It misses and hits the lamp, toppling it over. It stays on. I start laughing, because I totally thought it would break.

It's probably good it didn't, though. Uncle would be mad at me. Fuck, Uncle's going to be mad at me no matter what, after he gets back and finds out I stole a bunch of his beer. Oh, well. He's a shitty person anyway, he can live without a few extra beers. He can just sit and bask in his shittiness, without alcohol to chase his shitty feelings away.

My stomach feels stretched and my brain starts to feel hazy, but I don't want to stop now. I open my fifth can, deciding I'll drink this one more slowly and quit after this. I take short sips, trying to rid myself of the dizzy feeling. Black spots appear in my vision, and it occurs to me that I might pass out. I think I should probably drag myself into bed so I have a comfortable place to sleep, but my hand can't find any furniture to pull myself up on. Whatever, I need to finish my beer anyway.

Fifth can down. I'm starting to feel sick. The striped wallpaper seems to be moving, the beige and pink coloring bleeding together. I try to pick myself off the ground, only to fall back on my butt. I sit there for a minute, wondering if I should climb into bed or go stick my head in the toilet.

My stomach makes the decision for me. I scramble to the bathroom on all fours, smashing my head on the doorway. I crawl across the blue tiles and just barely make it to the toilet before everything in my stomach makes a reappearance.

I hate puking. It's gross and it smells weird. I want to brush my teeth.

The tiled floor is cold against my back. I don't remember lying down, but I must have. The light fixture swims around my retinas and the Blue Woman smiles down at me as her long, bony fingers reach out to close my eyes.

"Bakura?! Bakura, shit, Bakura. Please answer me. Please!"

There's an earthquake.

"Goddammit, why do you insist on doing these things to yourself…"

No, it's just my Uncle.

"Bakura, can you hear me? Open your eyes. Please."

Maybe I shouldn't. Just to see how far he'd take this. Would he take me to a hospital and ask them to fix me? Or would he leave me here to die on the bathroom floor?

On second thought. I really don't care to find out.

I open my eyes.

"Oh…oh, thank god…"

Uncle pets my hair, my head in his lap. I guess it's supposed to be soothing. It's not.

I'm in trouble. He knows how much beer I drank, and he told me not to touch his beer. He'll beat me, probably. I don't want to get in trouble, but I'll live. Get it over with.

"Bakura. Bakura, listen to me." Uncle brushes a few strands of stray hair from my face, leaning in to me. "Look, I know you broke one of my rules, and you will be punished for it later, but right now I really need to know how much beer you drank. Please, this is important. Be truthful."

I allow my eyes to slip closed. "Fff…five…" I manage to get out.

"Five cans?"

I nod.

Uncle blows air out of his mouth. "Okay, five cans of beer…and you're tiny…I don't think you're in any danger, at least not anymore. Plus it looks like you puked pretty soon after you drank all that…"

I don't want to know how he knows that.

"…so there's a good chance a lot of that alcohol wasn't even absorbed into your bloodstream."

I cough.

"I'm just talking to myself now…" Uncle gets up, leaving me on the cold tile. The sink turns on for a brief moment before he returns to me and lifts my head and shoulders.

"Drink some water, it'll make you feel a little better."

I sip, but it doesn't take away the dry feeling in my mouth and throat.

Eventually, Uncle takes away the cup. I want to keep drinking, but I don't bother putting up a fight. Uncle's thick arms slide under me, lifting me off the floor.

We move. I can't see, but I can tell we're moving. Uncle sets me down on our bed seconds later, bringing the covers up to my chin.

"Best thing you can do now is sleep and wait for it to work its way out of your system…" Uncle muses. Don't have to tell me twice. I'm asleep before he gets out his next sentence.

The light hurts.

Everything hurts.

The sunlight leaking through the curtains. The ear-splitting music someone from another hut plays at top volume. My mouth, my throat, my tongue. And my eyes. Oh god, my eyes hurt.

I turn over and bury my face in my pillow.

Uncle's hand goes to the back of my neck. "Drink some more water."

I don't want it, because it comes from you and I'm mad at you and I don't want to ever feel better about anything and I'm so thirsty I just do it.

"There. Just sleep now, it's the best thing for you."

"What's-" I cough. "What's going on?" I hear Uncle chuckle softly above me.

"You're hungover. It sucks, but you'll be fine." He pets my hair. "Your first hangover. It's almost cute. I'd rather it had happened later on, but whatever. You're okay now, that's all that matters."

"My head hurts…" I mumble.

"Yeah, that's what happens when you drink too much. Let that be a lesson for you."

I bury my face in the pillow.

It's dark when I wake up again. I'm confused for a second, then I look over at the alarm clock. It's almost 6 PM.

"What the fuck…" I shakily stand up. Uncle notices and puts down his newspaper, running over to me.

"Careful. Do you need help?"

I bat his hand away. "I'm perfectly capable of walking to the bathroom myself!" I snap.

Uncle follows me into the bathroom, much to my dismay. I glare at him as I sit down on the toilet. "Don't you have better things to do than watch me use the toilet?"

He shrugs. "It's not like, a turn-on or anything, if that's what you're asking. I'm not a creep like Mariku."

I huff and turn away. After I'm finished I decide it's probably best I take a shower, since I sort of smell. I begin to strip off my clothes. Uncle folds his arms and leans against the bathroom wall. "Are you trying to seduce me or something? Do you think I'll revoke your punishment after that?"

"I'm going to shower, you idiot."

"Just a bit of advice, I wouldn't be calling the person handing out your punishment names."

I snort and turn the shower on. I notice something on my forehead, a long white bandage. I sort of remember banging my head against the doorframe. Apparently I cut it. I peel the bandage of anyways.

Uncle rolls his eyes. "You're insufferable."

"Well, you don't have to deal with me if you really don't want to." I test the water, deeming in a good temperature and stepping in. "Why did you let me sleep so long?"

"Pardon?"

I pull the shower curtain closed. "It's six PM. I've been asleep for over twenty-four hours."

"Oh, hangover's are quite unpleasant, and I don't consider myself cruel enough to make you suffer through it. I figured I'd let you sleep it off. Plus I gave you some Ambien so you'd stay asleep."

"You drugged me?"

"A little, yeah. I had phone calls to make, I couldn't have you waking up and talking when I've told everyone I'm in the city alone."

I grab the shampoo and empty part of it into my hand, working it through my hair. "Didn't you go to work today?"

"Nah, I took care of shit over the phone." He pauses. "Sales are easier to make when you're in person, you know."

"Okay. I don't really care."

"You should. How much money I make selling this shit impacts when we get to go home."

I stay silent. Finally, Uncle speaks. "I'll leave you alone, I guess. We'll talk when you're done with your shower."

"Uh-huh."

He exits the room, and I flip him off through the shower curtain.

I don't get out of the shower until my fingers are pruny and the air is thick with steam. The conditioner in my hair has long since been washed away, leaving my hair as dry as the desert. I still comb out my hair, though, even if it does take forever to work out the knots. Marik would be proud.

When I get out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around my waist, Uncle is waiting for me on the bed. He glances at me quickly over the top of his newspaper. "Get dressed. Then we'll talk."

His tone leaves no room for messing around. I pull on some pajamas.

I sit on the bed for a good few minutes before Uncle finishes his article and puts the newspaper done. He's all serious, no trance of my joking Uncle I saw an hour ago.

"Alright, Bakura…" He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I'm going to be frank, I'm very, very disappointed in you. I trusted you to be responsible while I was out doing my business, and you've broken my trust."

I bite my tongue.

"Furthermore, you also sought to harm yourself, which-"

"That wasn't my intention."

"If you'll let me finish…" Uncle glares at me. "You've shown me that you are a danger to yourself, and-"

My cheeks are burning. "I wasn't trying to hurt myself. I just wanted to see how it felt."

"Would you try cocaine to see how it felt?"

"…That's really not applicable to this argument."

"We're not having an argument, Bakura." Uncle sighs. "I'm trying to talk to you about your defiance of my authority and your destructive behavior."

"Please stop talking to me like I'm one of your patients. I'm your nephew."

"I'm just trying to help you, Bakura, and I'm going to use my medical knowledge to do so."

"I'm not sick, I don't need medical help." I stand up. Uncle stares at me sharply.

"Bakura, you're very sick. I told you, I'm going to do everything in my power to he-"

"You don't need to help me! You're not even a fucking doctor, what do you know?!"

SMACK!

I'm on the floor, Uncle standing above me. My cheek stings. Uncle seethes for a moment, his eyes wide and wild. Then, as quickly as it came, his anger is gone and a mask of impartialness slides over his face once more.

"Fine, I won't bother you about getting help anymore." He sits back down on the bed. "But I am locking up everything sharp. I don't care if you haven't cut, I don't trust you."

I get up from the floor. Uncle strokes his chin a few times before continuing. "From now on, I'm leaving all my beer and cigarettes in my car while I'm out. So you're not tempted." He picks up a cigarette, then decides against it. "I'd rather you be comfortable with talking to me about your obvious depression, but I can see that bothering you about it won't get me very far."

I snort, sliding back onto the bed. Uncle gives me a dirty glare. "So that leaves only one thing left, punishing you for disobeying me in the first place."

He stops and stares at me. I glare back, trying not to fiddle. What sort of punishment is he talking about? Usually his punishments are physical, but he's seemed to disapprove of that lately with Mariku. So perhaps my punishment will consist of a loss of privileges, or an early bedtime. One of those punishments normal parents give their kids.

Finally, Uncle averts his gaze and adjusts his position on the bed so his feet lie flat on the ground. "Over my knee, Bakura."

I blink. "What? No!"

Uncle still doesn't look at me. "You broke my rules, and now you're getting punished for it. I fail to see what is unfair about this."

"I-It's not unfair, it's just…Uncle, I'm thirteen years old!"

"So?"

"So, I'm too old for that!"

Uncle sighs. "Bakura, I told you to do something, and you're going to do it. I understand that it's embarrassing, just think of it as another part of your punishment. Now bend over and take your punishment like a man."

I'd like to see a real man getting punished like this.

With a sigh, I stand up. Uncle watches me expectantly, and I swallow my pride and bend over his knee.

I close my eyes and try to distance myself from what's happening, and to my dismay, my Uncle actually pulls my sweatpants down in the back. I bite my lip, absolutely mortified. I'm suddenly really, really glad I've been away from Marik.

Uncle strikes me, then again and again. I put my head down and think about other things. Anything other than this.

I wait it out.

Finally, Uncle is finished and he releases me. I quickly stand up and pull my pants up. Uncle reaches over and grabs his cigarettes off the nightstand. "Well, I'm going outside to have a smoke. Feel free to meditate on what you've done, Bakura."

"You fucking hypocrite…" I mutter. Uncle pretends not to hear.

I turn the TV on, switching to some stupid cartoon show. Uncle comes back in and gives me the stink eye; I respond by cranking the volume up.

Uncle lays on his back, producing a book and beginning to read. I'm laying on my stomach for obvious reasons. I've pretty much become able to block out Uncle's presence when he puts one hand on my calf, stroking in absent-mindedly. I tense up, but he continues to do it.

I eat a few crackers for dinner, and Uncle tells me I need to eat more than that. I flip him off and tell him to stay the fuck out of my business.

Nighttime creeps up on us, and soon enough Uncle is telling me to come to bed.

I begrudgingly obey.

After the lights are turned off, Uncle snuggles with me under the covers. I wish he had booked us a room with two beds, at least. I hate sharing beds with people. The only exception is Marik. And I guess, if I still lived with him, my twin brother Ryou.

Uncle presses his mouth to my ear, snapping my out of my reverie. He's silent for a moment, breathing loudly. "Bakura…"

I don't move. I barely even breathe.

Uncle kisses my temple, his hands brushing against my sides. "I love you so much, you know…" He says as he slides down my pants. "I only do these things because I love you. I'm not a selfish person. This is all for you."

I don't answer. It's not worth it.

I'm silent as Uncle Akefia removes every bit of clothing from my body, tossing it onto the floor. Silent as he takes off his own clothing. Silent as he hastily attempts to prepare me. I'm silent even as numerous protests dance on the tip of my tongue, as Uncle prepares to have sex with me for the first time since we got here.

The sex is slow. Full of touches and kisses and something my Uncle calls love. I close my eyes and wait for it to be done.

Uncle eventually finishes and pulls out. He collapses on top of me, his weight nearly suffocating me. He rolls to the side, clutching me to his chest.

We lay in silence for a while, then I notice that Uncle is trembling. Something wet lands on my wrist, and I realize he's crying.

"Bakura…" He gripes me even tighter, rocking us back and forth. He continues to cry.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

I don't respond.

I honestly really hate this whole thing. Bakura is a BITCH, he won't talk to me and therefore makes it impossible to write in his point of view. I was tempted to make this third-person, even though I absolutely loathe writing it third-person, but I knew it would suck balls if I wrote it like that. The way it is, it only sucks...icicles? That's better than balls, at least.

This entire thing made me extremely uncomfortable as well. Yeah, I write about child porn and this makes me uncomfortable. The spanking thing didn't bother me as much as I thought it would, actually...I absolutely flipped out when I wrote it, but when I read through it, I was just like, 'meh. It's censored enough.' I hope people don't mind the spanking. I'm not a fan of corporal punishment, (especially when they're teenagers) but whatever.

About the drunk scene...I've never actually been drunk, so I don't really know what it feels like. (Whenever I drink, I drink one can of beer, if even that much. I really don't like the taste of beer.) I didn't know how much Bakura would have to drink to get drunk, so, like a nerd, I went online and found a blood alcohol calculator! If you're interested, here's my calculations. I measured his BMI using a height of four foot eleven and 85 pounds. (1.5 m and around 38/39 kg for everyone outside America and not using our fucked-up measurement system) This puts him at a BMI of about 17.2, which is still really underweight. But fatter than Marik was in the doctor chapter. He'd probably actually be fatter at this point, but whatever. I figure this because Bakura is shorter and needs less food to get fat, plus Akefia has been properly feeding him for a while and Marik had been sick/not eating for a while in that chapter. Anyway, I entered in crap like the alcohol percentage of beer and other things that are basically constants. With five cans of beer, this puts Bakura at a Blood Alcohol Level of .330. Which is really high. According to Wikipedia, you can actually die at this point, but Bakura was okay...so it's okay. He's Bakura, he's immortal or something.

Now here's me apologizing my ass off for being late. I did end up having to work a ton after posting my notice, (I actually got a call from a manager telling me I was scheduled to work about five minutes after posting, literally) because my boss decided he'd change the schedule and give me about fifty trillion hours that weekend...without telling me. No, I didn't just forget/not write down my shifts correctly. I've been working there for two years. I don't make that sort of mistake. So that was very frustrating, and the reason why I missed the first deadline.

After that, I really don't have any excuses. I had religious graduation things to go to every night, but my days were free and I wasn't responsible. I Reddited and played Sims all day, basically. I cleaned my room a bit and worked on some stained glass stuff, but other than that, I haven't been very productive. (I ordered Dominos one day and ate their cool little cakes, sadly that is the highlight of my summer so far.) I think I might be seasonally depressed, because I seriously have no motivation to do ANYTHING. Yes, seasonal depression in the summer. The sun is hiding from Minnesota. Remember how I told you it was snowing up to May 10th or something? It finally stopped snowing, but it has rained every single day since. (Alright, we got ONE day of sunshine. And I had to work all day, so I couldn't even enjoy it.) I'm not kidding. It's been absolutely insane with the rain/flooding we have. Look up MN weather if you don't believe me. I think I might get better once it stops being sixty degrees and rainy here.

I'm going to write Part II of this, but not now...I'm going to write another chapter of AMOF first, just because Marik isn't a complete bitch and I NEED him. I'll get back to this soon, I swear. Also, I guess I have to get a Tumblr now, since I did promise everyone I'd get one over the summer...'hangs head in shame' If I link my Sims legacy stories on there, will people actually read them?

I suppose I should end this crazy long A/N, seeing how it's a novel right now and I have to be up at like, eight to drive one of my little brothers somewhere. I don't know how I survived getting up before six for school...

Love and Rainbows (get it? Because I'm a lesbian?)

-Fai.