Disclaimer: I Do not own yu-gi-oh or any of the characters in yu-gi-oh.
Marik watched as cars whizzed by him down the damp road, jealous of the warmth the passengers where granted. The air around him was stale and musty, a strong mixture of alcohol, smoke, and human filth. The only sounds being the nonsensical ramblings of the drunken men stumbling aimlessly around the street, and the occasional police siren blaring in the distance.
What city was he in? He didn't know.
What would he do now he's here? He was still working that out.
Marik thought about his situation briefly, before pulling his hooded jacket closer to his thin frame and trudging miserably down the darkening street. Everywhere he looked he seen filth. Drunken men hooking up with woman wearing so little clothing they may as well have been naked. Teenagers in large groups, looking for just about anyone to pick a fight with. Woman attempting to sell their body to male passers-by. How people could live this disgusting life willingly, Marik had no idea.
Casting his gaze around, his eyes locked onto a seemingly empty alleyway. Figuring being alone in the dark was better than being surrounded in this filth, he made his way up to the opening and stared into the darkness, allowing his eyes to adjust.
It was empty, so he stumbled in, his lack of sleep only just beginning to catch up with him. He pushed back his dismay at the though of having to sleep outside in the cold damp streets. It would probably be the only choice, seeing as he was practically broke. Why was he in such a horrible situation?
His father.
He was on the run. Trying to escape from him. The man who was supposed to look after and care for him. The man who beat him close to death at every opportunity. The man who he haunted his dreams, causing him many sleepless nights. The man who, overwhelmed with loneliness at his mothers death, had taken advantage of him.
Marik felt his eyes begin to water as the memories of his pain filled past flooded into his head. Screwing his eyes shut he quickly pushed all bad thoughts away, and forced himself to think about his current predicament.
Suddenly and without warning, he was shoved into the alley. He let out a shout of surprise, but felt a hand clamp tightly around his mouth muffling his noises of confusion and protest as he was pushed against one of the bricked walls, well out of sight from anyone on the street.
He shuddered as he felt what he presumed to be a knife press against his side. He could feel the warm breath of his attacker against his neck as he had leant closer to threaten him.
"Don't make this difficult, pretty boy," the man said in a low, menacing whisper "turn around and I kill you." He heard the rustle of clothes as his attacker turned around to face something. Or in this case someone.
It was at this point Marik realised the man wasn't working alone. He had a partner.
My day just keeps getting better and better.
The other man stepped forward and began to search through Marik's pockets, while the man who jumped him stayed put, keeping him pushed firmly against the wall, not moving the knife an inch from his side.
After searching through his pockets the man made a small noise of disappointment. He opened his hand to show the very little money Marik had to his partner, who laughed.
"That's all you got, pretty boy? That's very disappointing," he leaned in closer to Marik "Maybe we should sell you. You might fetch us a decent amount."
Marik neither moved nor spoke. Showing fear might encourage this man to act on his threats. He stood in the silence, expecting the man with the knife pressed against his side to make further threats, or at least leave him be now he had all his money, but it was his partner that spoke up breaking the silence.
"We should go now Joey, we already have all his money. No point in risking getting caught." So, his attackers name was Joey.
"Idiot!" Joey whispered loudly but angrily at his partner. "You gave away my name!" he sighed "Well, the rest of the gang won't be happy leaving any loose threads." Marik felt the knife press harder into his side and he began to panic.
"You don't need to do that! He only knows your first name, not your second. Besides I doubt he'll even report us to the police if we don't hurt him, isn't that right?" He directed the question at Marik. Joey's partner was reluctant to have to kill, because it meant dragging attention to the area they "worked".
Before Marik had the chance to reply or even give a short nod, to his horror, Joey plunged the cold and dirty knife into his side, causing such an extreme amount of pain to shoot through Marik he found it difficult to continue to stand. He would have screamed out but Joey's hand was still pressed tightly against his mouth.
When the knife was pulled from his side, his blood began gushing out staining his purple hoodie with dark blotches of red. He instantly pressed his hand to the wound to try and control the bleeding as best he could, but Joey, deciding not to take any chances, stabbed him again, slightly higher than before.
Marik had never thought the human body was capable of feeling this much pain. Joey released his grip on Marik and watched as the younger boy slumped to the ground, hands wrapped tightly around his body, desperately trying to stop the bleeding.
Marik hadn't even heard the two criminals flee the scene, as his vision began to blur and waver in front of him. He watched as the bricked walls and damp stone ground beneath him morphed and twisted around him.
Why me?
He suddenly began to cough and looking to the ground that was now inches from his face, realised with horror he was coughing up blood.
Do I really deserve to die like this?
He pulled his hand up to his face, but could only see red. So much red. So much blood.
Why is it always me?
His senses went numb, and he allowed himself to collapse onto the damp alley floor. Marik was barely aware and able to register the figure that had now appeared in front of him, and began to drift away, his mind weak and ready to give in to the darkness and emptiness that lay beyond the living world.
Bakura stared intently up at the stars, admiring the soft way they twinkled, and how you could connect them in your head to form many different and interesting shapes.
" I believe these are called constellations...?" he thought to himself, then sighed. Life had been so boring recently. So boring that he was now lying on the roof to his apartment building staring into the starry sky, and content about it. "My life used to be so interesting and filled with action...what happened?"
He filled his endless seeming days and nights with wandering the city, exploring the streets and learning new things about each area. He had never bothered before, not expecting to find it useful to pursue such knowledge. Until recently.
One day he realised how much distance he had put between himself and reality. He had always been off in his own world, not caring for others and what they did. He had begun doing this on that day.
The day his entire life changed. The day that had ruined all chances he had at a happy, carefree future.
The day he became a vampire.
Not by choice, of course. Why would one want to condemn themselves to such a lonely life? Bakura would do anything to reverse the horrible change he had experienced, that caused him pain daily.
The first few weeks where by far the worst, however. After the excruciatingly painful change, he was lost for thoughts. He had no idea what to do. He guessed he would have to drink blood, but that thought had repulsed him. He put it off for a week, and slowly began to go insane. He was a pale, sick and twitching mess.
In the end, he had went crazy with blood lust and accidentally killed a homeless man passing him in an alley. He had never killed before, and was guilt ridden for weeks. Eventually, he had gotten over it.
But is it really a good thing to no longer feel sorry for a man I murdered in cold blood?
Bakura decided to go for one of his many night time strolls. He wasn't hungry for blood, he had fed earlier that day. He just needed a way to pass the time.
Walking over to the edge of the roof, he hopped up on the edge, lowered himself down and dropped down onto the metal stairs, that ended a story below him. It didn't hurt him at all. One good thing about his vampire blood was that it made him much, much stronger. He could lift things over twice his weight with ease, and jump down several stories without even a small jolt of pain.
He made his way through the mazes of alleys, not caring for any dangers that lurked there. He was never afraid in this city. He was, without a doubt, one of the strongest in it. It was likely there where other vampires in the city, but he needn't worry about that. Vampires were loyal to their kind, and never turn on each other.
"After all, the rest of the world is terrified and repulsed by us." Bakura thought sullenly.
Walking slowly through the narrow and confusingly mapped out alley-ways, Bakura could hear movement in the alley next to him.
Normally he would ignore it. It would probably have been some homeless man, or a random couple making out and groping each other like their life depended on it.
But this time was different. With his keen vampire hearing, he decided there were 3 people, one seemed to be struggling. As he turned into the dark alley, he seen two of the people fleeing out into the street, lowering their hoods further and leaving his sight.
He looked down at the remaining figure, now falling sluggishly to the ground, and realised with horror the man had been stabbed.
He ran forward and examined his wounds. He decided them to be, upon seeing the vast amount of blood staining the man's hoodie and the ground beneath him.
He could hear his breath become ragged and quieter, and panicked. This man was going to die, and there was nothing he could do to save him.
In that moment he remembered something he read once. He had read it from one of the many vampire folklore books in the libraries, which contained a lot of laughable theories about vampires. He had read that if a vampire willingly feed a human their blood, that human would be healed. True, the books he had read where mostly false, but he had to at least try.
The man's eyes where now closed, and his breathing was barely detectable.
No! I will not allow another person to die because of me!
He quickly looked around and grabbed a piece of a broken glass bottle, and slashed one of his fingers. If he wasn't a vampire, the deep gash would have caused him to cringe.
He gently rolled the man on his back, and held his hand above his face, allowing his blood to drip into the man's open mouth. He wasn't sure how much he would have to drink, so he allowed a decent amount to fall, before taking back his hand and listening closely to the man's breathing.
At first, he heard nothing. But to his relief, he had begun breathing again. It was soft and barely detectable, but still there.
He took a closer look at the man he had just saved. He had platinum blond hair, falling just below his shoulder. "An unusual hairstyle for a boy..." he noted. His skin had a natural dark tan to it.
He must be foreign. But then why did he move here?
Bakura puzzled for a while over why someone would want to move to a city like this one, but then realised he was still crouching in a damp, dark, dirt filled alley.
He made up his mind to take the blond back to his apartment to heal fully. Bending over, he picked him up bridal style, and made his way back to the apartment block he lived in.
He could easily buy a house. He had a lot of money. He was unemployed, but he stole for a living. He was very good at it, and had never been caught. Bakura had an eye for money and what he stole always fetched a hefty price. Moving into a house would be a bad idea though. There where no dark areas from which he could feed in the housing estates. Unlike the apartment filled side of the city, which was packed full.
He then realised he was standing at the door to his room, and lay the foreign blond down so he could get out his key and unlock the door. He carried the boy into his room and set him on his bed, pulling the sheets up to cover him.
They would be stained with blood, but that would be easily washed out. Leaving the room, he left the door slightly open, so he would know when he woke up. He would have to explain everything to the man when he woke up. After all, he had just been stabbed twice, and would later wake to find himself perfectly fine, in some strangers bed.
Explaining this is going to be fun...not.
I know I'm alreay writting a story right now, but I couldn't help myself. I had to write this D: Also, the image used for this is one I drew myself today, specifically for it. I'm going to start doing fanart, if you want to see any, click the link to my deviant art page on my profile ^ ^
I got the idea one day, and jotted down ideas, and eventually had to write it out properly ^ ^'
Also, no worries, I have started the 5th chapter of New Kid At School, Just haven't finished it yet. I was a bit lost on ideas for it xD
I'm not 100% sure If I even want to continue it, I'd much rather write this one, but tell me your ideas please.
Reviews are appreciated ^ ^