Death. Dead. Dying.
He was dying, and if he wasn't (why wasn't he?) he should be.
It was hot and his whole body burned on the sand as he squinted up at the glaring face of Ra, punishing him for all his misdeeds.
His ache was physical, even if he bore no wounds.
Eight-year-old Bakura rolled over and retched on hands and knees.
Mother—little sister—!
His anguish was palpable, lying stranded in the desert with no village to call home.
He...he had ran. Ran as far as he could away from those—those monsters that haunted his village more than angry spirits ever could.
He tried to be violently sick again, only to find that nothing more remained in his stomach. Heat exhaustion, a voice that sounded suspiciously like one of the village elders supplied, but he was dead so obviously Bakura was just going crazy.
(He'd rather be dead, but crazy—surely crazy was close enough.)
Screams—he could hear them screaming...
He tried to shudder, but found he had no strength to and collapsed.
Please please oh please let this all be a nightmare. If he could just open his eyes and be at home again he'd never disobey mother again or sneak out at night, or, or...
He couldn't cry now, he was physically incapable of it, with not one ounce of water left in him, and he seemed all the more pitiful for it and oh gods why couldn't he just die ?
He heard something, or thought he did, but then that was probably in his head too—and suddenly Ra was no longer glaring down on him.
He slowly
oh so slowly, so weakly
opened his eyes
he was tired, his will gone
and the shadow of a man hovered over him.
Someone (thing) lifted his head up and something cool touched his cracked lips. "Drink."
And so he did.
He wanted to die, but slowly, as life came back to him, he pushed that away for fury and vengeance and hate.
He would not die until the bloodlust of the slaughtered and the damned was sated.
a/n: I think grief drove him just the littlest bit crazy, and revenge sealed the deal; but rage kept him-just a little-sane.
I just had a picture of Bakura lying despondently in the sand stuck in my head for days and just couldn't get it out. Because there had to be grief before anger, right? So I wrote this little drabble (ish thing).
And I can imagine that "good samaritan" is actually an unsavory character from the underworld of thieves that would appreciate having someone that owes him a life debt and would likely fuel all of Bakura's less than positive traits.
So anyway, this is my first Yu-Gi-Oh! fic, so let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I own nothing!