I've never posted anything before, so I'm not quite sure if I'm using the site right. There's only one other person who's ever read any of my fanfiction, so please be nice. Constructive criticism is awesome, so please do review. I don't actually expect this to ever get read, considering how many fics there are on this website, but maybe I'll get lucky. Who knows? Ok, I'm done with my rambling. Enjoy, and let me know what ya think!
"Get out of my head! I don't care where you go, just stay away from me! Leave me alone! You bloody parasite! Stay out of my mind!" in a blur of white and navy blue, a soap bar and it's ceramic dish smashed into the mirror. The glass shattered with a loud crash, its thin, sharp shards slicing into a pale arm as they fell onto a bathroom counter. The arm stayed suspended in the air, outstretched with a hand gripping the blue ceramic dish that was still touching what was now just a wooden frame.
The soap fell into the sink and slid around a little bit before coming to rest in the center of the bowl. Blood began to leak slowly out of the cuts the shards had left behind on the arm, and the knuckles on the hand were turning white with the force of their grip on the dish. The owner of the hand was breathing heavily, his long white hair disheveled and a little extra poofy. A bead of sweat appeared on his forehead, and he swallowed anxiously, tightening his grip on the ceramic. His arm was frozen in place, as if paralyzed while he waited for something unknown even to him.
Nothing happened and nothing moved for nearly a minute and the teenager's breathing began to slow. His arm muscles loosened and slowly, the appendage began to fall. The ceramic dish fell from his hand and landed with a clatter in the sink next to the soap. The teen stumbled back, not sure what to make of the situation. His bright green eyes stared at the empty frame hopefully. Maybe... The teen looked down at his arm and caught sight of the blood that had begun to drip onto the white tiles.
"Oh..." he grabbed a hand towel and wrapped it around his arm, pressing on the now stinging wounds. He sat on top of the closed toilet and pulled the towel back. A miniscule piece of the mirror stuck up from one of the cuts, and the teen pulled it out, flinching as he did so. "A small price to pay..." he whispered aloud, staring at the tiny shard.
The teen stood and walked back to the sink. Picking up one of the larger shards, he flipped it over in his hand a few times. His blood stained one edge of the glass, and a thin crack was appearing in one of its corners. The teen glanced into the trapezoid, the shard being just big enough to relfect an eye. The teen screamed and dropped the glass. It shattered into a million microscopic sand molecules on the floor. He looked at the rest of the shards from a distance. They seemed harmless, simply reflecting the cieling above them like they were supposed to, but when the teen picked one up, he always saw the exact same thing: Instead of his own green-eyed relfection, the eye staring back at him was narrowed and blood red.
"Can't you just leave me alone?" he whispered to the mirrors, leaning against the wall and sliding to the floor, gripping a shard in his hand.
-"We already know t he answer."-
"You're lying. You're not me. You're you, and I'm me. I'm not you, and you're not me." the teen told the scarlet eye.
-"In denial, are we, Bakura?"-
Bakura grimaced, "If denying a lie qualifies as being in denial, then yes."
-"But we know perfectly well that it's not a lie."-
"Stop saying 'we!' There is no 'we!' There's just me!" Bakura cried, shaking the shard angrily.
-"I am you."-
"No, you're not! Stop it!" the teen yelled, throwing the shard down as he shut his eyes and covered his ears desperately.
-"We are you. I am you, and you are you. WE are the real you."-
"Shut up. Stop it. Stop lying," Bakura shook his head frantically pressing his hands into his ears.
-"You can't change it. You can't get rid of me. I'll always be you."-
"You think I can't?" Bakura challenged, an idea forming in his mind, "you think I can never get rid of you? Well, WE'll just see about that." Bakura picked up the shard again, the sharp edges slicing his palm. "WE are going down together," the teen declared, raising the shard to his chest and placing the sharpest point over his heart. Just as he was about to plunge the glass into his chest, his vision began to go blurry. His arm suddenly lost all strength, and it dropped to floor, along with the mirror.
"No..." Bakura whispered, and his mind and vision faded to black.
Bakura's eyes blinked open, but they were no longer a wide and innocent green. They now glowed the colour of blood. The teen sat up and brushed invisible sand particles off his arms. "See?" he told the mirror shard as he picked it up and looked into a frightened, bright green eye, "I am you."