(ok. The beginnings a little… strange… but its good over all I think. Review, and tell me what you think.)

A cinder Secret

/Bakura talking/

Ryou talking

Ryou's POV

There were bagels.

Bagels on the counter.

Breakfast, I was hungry.

I was halfway through.

Only a little more to cut, but then I slipped.

A cut.

A tiny cut.

Where blood only slowly rose to the surface, forming a small glittering pool.

It was pretty.

I didn't notice him coming up behind me.

He lifted my finger and put the wound into his mouth, thinking to make it better.

He made it sting.

But the blood stopped, and I thanked him for removing what had had me hypnotized.

"There now, my dear sweet little Ryou, let me help you with your breakfast, after all, it is a father's job to teach his son about such tings as how to handle the kitchen knives."

Yes, my father truly did want to teach me.

Right from wrong, good from evil, however, at the time, I was seven and naive .

At the time I had respect for him.

A love for him.

He meant well when he told me how to use the kitchen knives; how to make a nice, even, clean cut. How you should not "saw" things, but simply slide the knife along the item.

He killed himself when I was fifteen, with a kniving technique unknown to me.

……… … … … … … … …

Weeks later, while I was finishing up my job of clearing out the house for my move into some distant relatives house somewhere in Japan, I found something.

It was buried deep inside father's closet.

Something gold and heavy, with strange cone shaped charms hanging along the bottom.

There were five of them.

Five is my favorite number.

They all pointed toward me, no mater which was I turned the strange "ring".

I slipped its chain around my neck, and buttoned up my jacket. Then continued with my work.

It was not until I reached Japan that the "ring", as I now called it, started to make itself known to me. Only small things at first, like pointing, or pulling slightly in the direction of money on the ground or some other interesting item.

What I didn't understand though, was why it sometimes pointed to a random person in the crowd.

… … … … … … … … … … … ..

On my sixteenth birthday, I started to become aware of another voice inside my head.

I didn't tell anyone, in fear that they might send me away. That, and there really wasn't anyone I could have told.

I didn't really have any close friends, no one who I could turn to when I had a problem. All I had was that voice.

When I questioned who it was, it responded that its name was "Yami".

Yami, from what I was slowly learning of the Japanese language, Yami meant dark.

It was a strange feeling to have someone named "dark" in my mind.

He never said much to me.

Maybe he was just shy.

He did tell me that he was once an Egyptian tomb robber, but is now just a spirit trapped by the item I called "ring".

I think he wants to hurt me.

He says strange things to me.

My father often haunts my dreams.

It wasn't me who found him, but an old coworker of his, who came over to drop off some lost money. We were very low on money at the time. That man was very noble.

Maybe the money is why father…ahem…no I don't want to think about that.

/there now, my dear sweet little Ryou, why fear such a dreadfully important, not to mention blissfully exciting, part of your past? After all, if not for your father's sudden suicide, I would not have been able to come to you so easily./

I shivered.

There he was again. I'm sure he didn't mean harm…yes…he was just trying to comfort me… I'm sure that's all.

what…what did you call me? I asked

It had occurred to me that this spirit had just said something my father used to say to me all the time. It was father's phrase…reserved for him alone…not for some spirit who decided to take over my head one day...No…he cannot use it.

/My dear sweet little Ryou, why do you hate me so much already? What have I ever done to you./

And there it was again…

stop it

/oh little one, come here, let me protect you from those scary dreams/

What was happening?

How did he know the only comforting memories of my father?

Had I finally lost it?

Had the grief I felt for his death finally penetrated my sanity?

/let me show you how to use the kitchen knives/

I can't get away.

I can't get away.

He won't stop. Why won't my mind stop?

What is going on?

Why is the room spinning?

Why do I find myself broken down on the floor crying, clutching my head in my hands, unable to cry out?

Help

There is no one to help me. To save me.

All is dark.

All is dark.

The light fades to darkness.

I am alone.

/you're never alone, my dear sweet little Ryou. I'll always be watching/