(Rewind. Rewind. Start.)

In the beginning, it had merely been a means to escape.

It was just too much…the resentment boiling within me, eating away at the deepest confinements of my very soul, devouring my very being. I had always tried to banish the nightmares from my mind; I had always tired to banish the demons that plagued my very thoughts, my very dreams. They craved, yearned for my fear, my terror, feasting on it nightly—their delighted, thrilled cackles resounding in my mind for hours unheard of. I tried to be strong, always tried to fight back the fear with whimpers of unconvinced faith; reassuring myself with false hope, reassuring myself with the promise of a golden ray of light that would never shine upon my face. But there was only so much horror I could bear. Only so much I could put up with. In the end, I couldn't put up with it any more.

I was hysterical that one night. Tossing and hurling frantically, my fingers desperately reaching out to grasp something, to grasp anything…to grasp his warm hand.

Are you…alright?

Varon had heard my frenzied screaming and had come to me during the dead of night, grasping my sobbing figure into a warm embrace, murmuring soft words of comfort and reassurance when the tears wouldn't stop falling.

…let me take your pain away…

His words were so soothing, so tranquil to the soul, and I couldn't help but wonder how soft those lips that spoke those soothing, tranquil words would taste.

…would you like me to make it all go away? You're so much more beautiful when you aren't crying…

It sounded so perfect. So appealing, enticing, and after all the petrifying nightmares that left me cold in sweat and gasping for breath I just couldn't turn down this proposal.

…so. What do you say?

How could I refuse such a tempting offer?

Alright.

It had happened in an instant. The next morning, I woke up in my bed, out of breath and naked, dirty…with an empty space next to me.

"Varon…?"

Nothing. He was already gone.

(End Amelda's vignette.)

(Rewind. Start.)

There is hurt in your eyes that I haven't seen since I'd accidentally broken the precious toy robot that your beloved brother used to carry around. Your head hangs low out of disgrace that you've yet again let somebody important in your life slip through your fingers when you had vowed never to do so again. You gaze at me with remorseful gray eyes, full of sorrow and pain that only I can relate to. I can only watch as unshed tears glimmer for the first time in years—and suddenly, I feel like the biggest slime ball in the world to have made you the way you are now.

"Is it true?" you whisper dejectedly, silently pleading to tell me it was just a big misunderstanding.

You really don't know how much I want to. But I feel angry gazes burning into the side of my head and our comrades' prying eyes trigger my pride. They shouldn't be standing here, viewing something so personal and naked as if it was just a source of entertainment. But there's nothing I can do now, so instead of answering, I swallow a heavy lump in my throat and say nothing. My silence seems to be enough of an answer for you and as you reach this conclusion, I can only watch as you raise your frosty mental barriers yet again. The pain that shone in your eyes is now replaced with an impassive gaze, and you make no movement to wipe away the crystalline liquid that is sliding down your cheeks.

"So…this entire thing was just a game to you."

Your voice is now low and laced with a coldness that doesn't suit you. There is no longer any hurt or resentment in your tone and perhaps that's what scares me the most. You are not shaking with anger and your eyes are no longer reflecting betrayal like it should have been. The betrayal that I handed to you after you've given up everything so willingly—your hatred towards Kaiba, your revenge; I even made you break that oath you've sworn to your deceased brother. I was such a disgusting lowlife to use you like that. I made you throw everything away, everything you lived and strived for just so you could pretend to be the woman that I loved and couldn't have. All I wanted was a substitute; somebody to take away the pain of my broken heart for the time being. Not somebody to love…but merely to use and break. You were so perfect. So willing to fall for my trap and entangle yourself in a world of lies. I remember the nights we had shared, where you'd thought it was strange when I'd close my eyes and refuse to look in the face when I kissed you on your lips. I'd run my fingers through your red locks and pretend that they were golden blonde and I would internally moan her name instead of yours.

I didn't tell you my real reasons—how could I? If I did, you'd never trust anybody ever again, you'd lock yourself in a world of betrayal and misery to know that somebody had used you yet again. I didn't want that to happen to you.

…it really didn't mean to happen, but I eventually fell in love with you. I never meant for it to slip out of control and when it finally did, it was too late. So I kept it up. Kept up the façade. But I loved you too much to have kept lying like that. The days kept passing and I kept on wanting to tell you, but one look at your happy face and I knew I couldn't. And now it had come to this. You've heard the truth from somebody else. She'd guessed my true intentions and in a jealous fit, stormed into your room and spat out the bare facts. That I was just using you to chase after a faded memory of herself.

And now you stand in front of me, thinking that everything that came out of my mouth was false and all those words I whispered lovingly to you were lies. It wasn't just a lie. You know I never liked that sappy, sentimental stuff; but those times when I said that I loved you and that I would never leave your side—I wasn't just trying to lure you with seductive phrases, they were true and genuine, no matter how clichéd they were. But it doesn't matter now, does it? Your eyes are disturbingly emotionless as you continue spitting out the harsh truth and continue breaking your heart with the reality of the situation—while breaking mine as well.

"That's all I really am to you, right? A toy?"

I turn my head away, unable to keep looking you in the eye. You seem to accept the development silently and keep on gazing at me with piercing ferocity.

"Someone to…to…pleasure yourself with while you fantasized about her," you say with disgust in your voice.

You motion to the woman standing behind me. I knew you never trusted her from the beginning. You told me that she was a slut and would just use me to get what she wanted…the way I used you. But I was too proud to listen. Back then, I liked you too little and loved her too much. I thought that you were just trying to insult me and lead me to disaster because we had an insufferable rivalry with each other. It's ironic, that in the end, everything you said turned out to be true.

I hear a haughty 'hmph!' from behind me and I know that she'd just executed her trademark hair flip at your words. Why of all people did she have to be the one to tell you? I should hate her; loath her…but even now I can't do that. You never knew how much she meant to me—the plague of my nightmares, the source of my lust, the reason why I'd wake up in the middle of the night sweating and panting for breath. I know it might sound perverted and shallow but she truly means the world to me, and don't you ever forget that. I know that there is a part of me that still cares deeply about her—but you know what? It's kind of funny, seeing as I can't even remember her name, let alone her face…

…because right now, all I could see is you standing in front of me with that blank, impassive look.

"So all of that was just a lie," you finally whisper in that cold, detached voice. You keep looking at me with those emotionless eyes.

And all I can do is keep looking away…

(End Varon's vignette.)

(Start.)

You bite your pale lips until they draw blood and I scoff inwardly. You're too dignified for your own good. If it's truly that painful then just let out a hurting cry instead of inflicting silent damage upon yourself. You look at me now, your eyes gleaming with an unforgiving look of anger and loathing.

"…let…let go of me…" As you utter those words, crimson trickles out of the corner of your mouth. It takes all my willpower not to lean down and lick it away.

My grip tightens around your fragile wrists and you finally cry out in pain. I'm rather impressed actually, but then again, I've always been impressed with you—though for different reasons than of right now. It was your unmatched brilliance that made me bow down to you before, but now, it's the position your body is currently in and the fact your spine hasn't broke yet that truly ceases to amaze me.

You're lying on your back, your shoulders pressed awkwardly against the fine chestnut desk while the rest of your body is suspended in midair with your feet barely touching the ground. Your neck is rubbing uncomfortably against the telephone and your wrists are pinned in a discomfited manner above your head. You look like a doll. And I think I'm going to have a fun time breaking you.

"…d-don't…"

Your mouth is halfway open when I abruptly force you into a kiss. You struggle desperately but in all your efforts go in vain—after all, I'm stronger than you by so much. You should care, in any case. You did take them under your wing at a young age and this is the worse point of all too suddenly decide to abandon them at their time of need. Livid anger no longer reflects in your eyes and is replaced with panic instead. You know very well what I am capable of doing to you and you know I won't hesitate or hold back. I care for you, yes, but my comrades' lives are so many levels above your own in importance. After all, it could be said that Amelda and Varon are my only family left on this earth. You, however, are just a little plaything to amuse myself with—a toy to break, to dominate over.

You seem to realize this, yet still insist on struggling. The dewdrop pendant around your forehead suddenly glows an eerie green and a numb sensation crawls up my arm. My fingers over your wrists loosen a bit and you take this chance to writhe out of my grasp. But before you have any chance to flee, I pin you down with my other arm. The Orichalcos shard on your forehead starts to glow vibrantly again—but haven't you learned already? Cheap tricks like these only work once and then fail all the other times you attempt them. You look unexpectedly shocked as I backhand you in the face and send your head clattering against the desk once more. Your pendant loses its shine and feeling returns to my arm again. While you're still recovering from my last blow, I take this chance to yank the silver chain off your forehead and hurl it into the cabinet positioned next to us.

You always did have nice taste in ceramics.

Neither of us speaks a word as the glass shatters instantly and precious porcelain figures, china plates, and other delicate knickknacks you collected over the centuries smash upon impact on the ground, broken forever. You don't even blink as a piece of glass lands on your cheek, mere inches away from blinding your eyes. You're so paralyzed in fear as to what I might do to you again that you don't even notice the other pain the world inflicts around you.

"Why?" you suddenly whisper. Your voice sounds so unusual in contrast to the verbal silence that has spread over this room for so long.

"Why? Why do you ask?" I reply softly, as if the answer was so obvious. You look at me uneasily, worried that your words might have offended me by any chance. But I surprise you by running my fingers through your long, aquamarine hair in a tenderly, affectionate manner. You tense up a bit before relaxing.

"I…just…wanted a reason…"

I smile gently, as if to comfort you. "Because it'll benefit all of us if she left."

But you disregard this and frown. "That's not true," you argue, your voice growing bold and defiant. "She was one of the best duelists I have ever hired."

My eyes narrow in response. And what does that make me? I am tempted to say. My loyalty towards you is unmatchable and I am easily the best duelist of them all, yet you curse me with me with degrading names and treat me lower than dirt. Ungrateful cunt. Without warning, I yank your hair, hard, making you wince and whimper. You shiver involuntary as I lean down and press my lips against your ear.

"Dartz-sama, I don't want to hurt you…"

Your eyes widen as I murmur these words to you.

"…but I will if I have to."

A moment of silence fills the room. We're both completely oblivious the world around us. We both ignore the awkward position we are in, the myriad shattered glass speckling the desk, and the thousand-dollar ornaments scattered on the floor. I don't want to move for some reason.

My, my…you're so beautiful when you cry like that. Like a doll-face.

(End Raphael's vignette.)