Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! or any of its characters.
Desert Flower
I'm a righter
How do you grow so beautiful little flower?
Beneath the desert sun.
How do you stand so tall and proud?
Escaping from the dirt.
Are you hiding your true feelings little flower?
Secrets concealed away.
Will you wither and die alone somewhere?
When the rain doesn't come today.
.
Ryou couldn't take it anymore. There's only so much a person can take before they snap. And he's human, who could blame him?
All he wanted was to escape from all the pain, but he was scared.
Really scared.
The more he regretted his decisions, the faster he ran. Through the snow, and through the crisp winter air, he'd still run. Ryou knew he was weak and he knew he couldn't fight back.
He finally stopped to catch his breath, doubling over from the crunching pain in his stomach. He stood at the top of a wooden bridge that hung over a small lake. A thin layer of ice sparkled in the moonlight.
The ice reflected the entire sky, like an amazing parallel universe.
.
What's wrong little flower?
You don't want to end your life?
What's left to hang on to?
You're just empty inside.
.
Ryou stood up straight, held his sides and looked at the top of the lake. It was beautiful to see it sparkle. Is this the last figure of beauty he will ever see again?
Ryou's arms dropped to his sides. His hand snaked its way into his pocket and he pulled out a long, slender knife. He held it up to watch the metal glisten. It seemed to be begging for the taste of blood. It seemed to be begging for him to die.
Would he listen to this knife?
He started shaking as he placed the blade against his throat.
Salty tears traveled gently down his face. He could even taste his tears.
'How pathetic,' His Yami would say, 'crying shows weakness. You are weak, Ryou.' Ryou closed his eyes, letting what he imagined Bakura's words to be, taunt him.
.
You're almost there little flower,
Just one cut should do.
You have nothing to live for,
No one loves you.
.
Blood, sweat, and tears.
Ryou gripped onto the knife tighter, but it only slipped out of his hands. He took a deep breath as he reached for the knife again. This time he brought it to his wrist.
If he couldn't, he would force himself. Soft, cold snow hugged his knees as he dropped to the ground, his shoulders shaking with heavy sobs.
He cut his forearm, watching the crimson blood drip slowly in the snow. He ran his finger over several other scars that had littered his arm.
He dragged the knife back down to his wrist.
How did it come to this?
A/N: Desert Flower was my very first fanfiction and despite how depressing and dark it was, it got a lot of readers. So I've decided to repost it and change some things around.
As always I have a small introduction into my story. I'll update as soon as I can.