Chapter One (Normal POV)
Sreams filled the once quiet house; screams of pure agony. But then there were laughs. Such sadistic laughs that made you want to run and hide in fear.
"You're pathetic!" Yami Bakura started to laugh again looking at the white haired teen laying limp on the ground. "You really are so weak."
"Please..." Ryou wimpered. He could feel blood running down his face, staining his white hair.
"What? You want more? How dare you speak to me, you filth!" Bakura took the younger figure by the neck and slamed him up against the wall. "How dare you!"
"Can't...breath...please." Ryou pathetically clawed at his Yami's hands, his lungs aching from lack of air. The young teen's arms fell limp at his sides, and darkness creeped it's way into his vision.
And then Bakura let go, letting Ryou crumple to the ground; panting.
"You worthless filth." Yami Bakura kicked Ryou in the side, ignoring a scream of pain from the younger form, and then left. "Clean up this mess." Ryou heard his Yami yell from down the hall.
"Yes, Kura..." Ryou mumbled. The teen struggled to get to his feet, as his side screamed with agony, making the boy wimper.
Ryou could have fought back against the abuse, but in the end, Ryou loves Bakura more than anything. No matter how much his Yami hurt him, Ryou would still love him just the same.
Ryou finally found the soap he was looking for. Then he cleaned his own blood from the stairs, table, couch, tile, and carpet. Ryou didn't notice he had lost so much blood, and at the sight of it he became nauseated and had to run to the bathroom.
He puked up his stomache acid, having eaten nothing today, and then dry heaved uncontrollably for ten minutes. Exhausted he layed on the bathroom floor, sobbing. The cold tile felt good against his fevered skin. He layed there for about an hour just crying, until he felt his eyes go dry. Then he got up on wobbly feet, his stomach still turning, and made his way back to the kitchen were he had left, cleaning up only half of his blood off the table.
Footsteps could be heard coming from the hallway. Ryou instantly straightened up and wiped tears from his face.
"Are you sick?" Ryou looked up to see his Yami only in a pair of boxers; his hair dishelved.
"What..?" The young teen was deeply confused.
"I heard you in the bathroom vomiting. Are you sick?" Bakura looked away; almost as if he was ashamed.
"N-no. I'm fine." Ryou answered, and started to scrub the floor again, but his Yami stayed there eyeing him.
"Weakling." And Ryou then again felt the sting of Bakura's hand across his face. "Yell at me! Hit me! Do somthing!" Bakura's finger found their way around his light's neck again.
"Kura.." Ryou rasped.
"Shut. Up. You. FILTH!" Bakura started punching the younger form everywhere he could, bruises already forming on his pale skin. "You fucking weakling!" Bakura shouted, and grabbed a chunk of Ryou's hair.
Bakura dragged Ryou to his room, throwing him inside and shutting the door. "Go to bed if you feel unwell!" And Bakura made his way to his own room, his foot steps becoming quieter and quieter. Ryou laid there a while, to stunned by agony to do anything.
And Ryou wondered, was this his Bakura's way of caring for me?