This is depressing.
I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or any of its characters.
"I'm home," I said into the empty house.
Silence. Silence was all that greeted me home from school. It was pressing in, yet vast and invisible. My voice echoed throughout the house, but oddly, it never came back to me. It ignored me, my own echo.
How . . . sad.
I kicked off my shoes, leaving them next to the door, and headed up stairs. My feet barely made a sound and I found myself stomping them, just to see if they could make sound. A weird muffled 'thump' was all I got, not much, but it was enough for me.
I opened my bed room door, almost expecting there to be someone in there. How stupid. It was empty. Empty of all life, even air, it seemed. I set my bag down on the floor and collapsed on to my bed, staring at the ceiling. It was odd. I could stare at my ceiling for hours, and yet never remember a single detail of it. I didn't even remember the color.
It happened to be blue.
I almost wanted to laugh; almost. To think, my ceiling painted in my favorite color and I didn't even have the curtsey to remember. My face held a smile on it, but my mind was a train wreck. I wanted to cry, but, somehow, I couldn't. How odd.
Right then, I felt alone. My whole room was pressing in on me, boxing me in, and there was no one but me to notice. I almost wished for my room to close around me, crush me, suffocate me. Kill me. Yes, kill me. Anything was better then living a life even I didn't remember.
Though I had gone to school today, I couldn't remember the classes I took. I sat a lunch surrounded by people, but I can't remember their names. I barely remember their faces. I don't notice or remember things as well anymore.
I had stopped sitting with Yugi-tatchi. I just couldn't stand being around people who speak of their oh-so important friendship and somehow manage to over look me, me who was slowly fading away into the background, into the silence.
Silence. That's right, no noise, no laughter, no jokes or friendly talks no questions or answers, no jibes, no insults or rants or threats. Nothing. Just Eternal Silence.
I could live with that. I was doing it know anyway, it wouldn't be any different than now. My empty home, my deaf school, my blind 'friends'. All of them were my life of Eternal Silence. Maybe I had already faded into the silence; maybe I had already died, yet was living in Hell.
Hell. That was the place full of the evil things, tainted enough to be rejected by Heaven. All the demons and monsters and murders dwelled there, cackling evilly and dangerously, lost in their burning oblivion.
Was I supposed to go to Hell? Did I sink so far into his Eternal Silence that I was tainted? Would I, when I died fully, go to the fiery pit of despair called Hell?
I shivered, not from cold but from dread. I was tainted, I knew, but I didn't want to go to Hell. Not even Heaven. No, I was going to the Oblivion. My Eternal Silence.
A hollow feeling settled in the pit of my stomach, and yet I was comfortable with that. I was OK with it. I didn't care if I was hungry, or thirsty. I might not get up to go to school tomorrow.
Why should I? No one would notice, no one would care if I skipped one day, or two, or ten, or never showed up again at all.
Questions would arise, of course; they always did. They would call; demand to know why I had denied getting a proper education. I just wouldn't answer the phone. They would come to my house, shout through the wood of the front door to get my attention. I just wouldn't open the door. My father would be contacted, maybe even Child Services. They would all come down, try and get me to go to school, to get me toact like every thing was alright and that every thing would be OK with me.
But what if it wasn't? What if it wasn't alright and everything wasn't OK with me? What then, may I ask? Would you all shrug and say I just needed some more sleep or suggest some anti-depressants? Would you say I'm over reacting and just need to get over it? Would you?
Heh, not like they'd even notice anyway. It would shock me to tears if anyone noticed my absence a week after I'd left. Of course, who would notice? Who would know I'm not there, when I'm being surrounded, crushed, suffocated, deafenedby my Eternal Silence?
No one comes to mind. Not one, single person appears in my mind as someone who would care enough to say 'Hey, Ryou's gone today.' Should anyone do such a thing, I might hug them, cry in their arms, and thank them over and over again.
I had no plans to do so, not expecting it, and I did have some dignity left, if only enough to fill a thimble.
The room was dark now. Night had settled in, casting my room in shadows. These silent shadows that haunted my subconscious, jeering and taunting. Yet I couldn't hear a thing. I knew, knew, that there were cars outside my window, people on the sidewalk talking and chatting, smiling and laughing. But I couldn't hear them. Not one, single word reached my ears.
Nothing.
Silence.
Utter Silence.
Eternal Silence.
My eyes started to burn, blurring my vision. My body started to shake and before I knew it, I was crying. Sobs escaped my lips, tears streaked down my face and my whole body shook with every sob as if it was going to collapse at any moment. I wanted so badly to just die, right then, sobbing my way to the Oblivion. I felt the sobs as they were torn from my throat and what came to my ears made me cry harder, scream louder.
I heard nothing.
I screamed at the top of my lungs, crying out to be here, to be heard. I leapt off the bed and began throwing things at random across the room, at the wall. I wanted to hear them break, smash, clatter and clank against the hard wood of my walls. I smashed my lamp, the glass flying every where, lodging themselves in my skin and clothes. I picked up the chair and hurled it at my closed door, watching it collide with the solid material. I ripped some of my clothing and even some of my homework. I didn't care.
Silence.
I raced out of the room, down to the living room, hitting the walls as I went. When I got the room, I threw the lamps, over-turned the couch, and even managed to break the TV.
Silence.
I turned and raced into the kitchen. Digging through the drawers, I dragged out pots and pans, letting them fall to the floor in my desperation. I raided the forks and spoons spilling them out on to the tiled floor as well. The cabinets were all closed sharply, the oven left to crash open. Then I found the knives. The ones I used to use for cutting meat.
I don't eat much any more; I had no appetite. Ever since my Yami left a year ago, I never had meat around, not if I could help it. So, all the knives had been hidden away, none of them any use and as I also had ideas about suicide a few months ago.
Now, I could use these. If I could no longer hear, did that mean I could no longer feel too? Was I supposed to exist in this world with nothing but sight and thought? Only one way to find out.
I took a large steak knife in my right hand and held it over my exposed left arm. I dug the edge of my knife into my skin, leaving a line of deep red in its wake. I hissed in the pain, not expecting the sharp sting it brought.
It had hurt.
I felt it, the pain, I felt it.
I smiled. I had felt that pain, that sharp sting of pain as the cold metal clawed across my arm, drawing more lines of blood, like ink. Ink. . . .
The blade moved across my arm, almost by itself, but not quite. More red lines appeared, connecting, crossing, intertwining together in a sticky red spider web.
I looked at the message I had written in my own blood.
Silence
I was really sad when I wrote this, and a little sleepy. I had been up all night, unable to sleep for some reason or another and I just thought that I should put some use to it.
Yami Bakura and Yami had already gone back into the past, and this took place a year latter.
I think I'll go sleep now. Yaaaaawwwwnnnnn! R&R!