Ten PM- The official time of lights out. I watched from the side lines. Silently I watched as he flailed and screamed. He screamed for me. He yelled for me. I can hear him. But he can no longer hear me. The needle punctures into his skin and he seethes from the pain. His limbs grow limp. His body slumps onto the mattress. And like nothing had happened... The room empties. Soon it is him and I alone- As we were meant to be. The lights are off. And I alone am left to watch over what's left of him.

I wish I could help. I pet back his hair, and I wince at the pain that I, too, am forced to feel. That drug- That calming, sedating, disgusting drug. It crawls through his blood stream, pooling in his body and forcing him to sleep. It's painful to think about, the idea that he needs drugs to sleep. But without those drugs... His flawless pearl of a skin... That's already been sliced every which way. It would only get worse.

I sit atop my knees next to his bed as his consciousness fades. I know he can't see me. He can't feel me. But he knows I'm there. Despite what he's being told, he knows that I'm here. This keeps a smile on my face. I sit up and pet back his hair like always. He smiled, his eyes wandering over where he knows I am.

"What's happened to you," I whisper quietly, moving my gaze from his face to his body. From his lifeless brown eyes to the cuts that litter his body. It was horrid to see.

"Kill me," he begged weakly, his voice coarse. I took in a sharp breath, my back straightening. My fingers curled into a fist over his shirt, and my gaze moved to the moon light shining through the bars in his window. The light made his cuts almost glitter. As if the blood was fresh. I couldn't go through with his request now. He needed more time to think about this.

I felt his mind fade further and further into the black. If only he could hear my voice. If only those bloody pills that he had forced down his throat didn't make my existence impossible for him to feel. Despite knowing my words were falling on deaf ears, I spoke. I opened my mouth, took a breath, and spoke.

"Don't say things like that," I scolded quietly, running my hand over his arm. "You're getting better. You believe I'm here despite what you're being told."

He smiled weakly with thin eyes. His hand twitched. Was he trying to lift his arm? "I feel so wonderful," he whispered. I couldn't help but wince. Those drugs... They were making him believe he was in a great place. He wasn't in a great place. Not in the slightest.

Was this truly my fault? If I hadn't upset him, he wouldn't have told anyone about me. If he hadn't told anyone, he wouldn't have been labelled like this. He wouldn't be here. This couldn't be my fault. I was doing what I needed to. I was doing what needed to be done in order for me to know I was here. Is that what he was doing? By destroying his weak, pale body with slice after slice. Was that his way of reminding himself he was real?

I kept my eyes on him. I still couldn't believe this was happening. He would jerk his arm and it would fling back. All his limbs were being restrained. This wasn't how a boy should live. Again, he quietly pleaded to be killed. Every time he moved, the moonlight would climb out of his cuts, then wearily crawl back in. He didn't need this.

I turned to my knees, keeping my hand over his. I didn't say a thing. I knew he was still awake despite his sedation, but he was silent. I waited patiently for him to fall asleep, but after a moment, he took in a shaky breath and spoke. It was apparent that he was crying now. "I've lost my access to you," he reminded himself, his hand twitching once more. "Let me give my life away now. I don't want life without you."

The guilt continued swirling in my stomach. Of course this was my fault- who was I kidding? Why did I let this happen? I should have protected him. I should have kept him safe. Slowly I stood, climbing over him on my knees and moving my hands around his neck. My hands pushed tighter against the skin, and my fingernails tugged at a couple of the cuts he had left there. This wouldn't have happened if I treated him properly. I watched as his normal white face faded into a red. It then moved into a blue. After a moment it darkened to more of a purple.

Tears budded in my eyes as I felt myself drifting away. Without him, my existence would be put on hold. Until I could find a new host- A new vessel- A new landlord. His face looked so calm and serene. He truly wanted to die. And I knew it was the best apology I could give him. I watched him slip into death, before I was forced to slip away. I closed my eyes.

"It seems the humans have prevailed once more."

Back in my home, I felt the ground move and shake. I was in a box, with the rest of his possessions. After his death, we would be donated away. I would be given a new owner, along with the rest of his things. I could hear the humans talking.

"According to the surveillance," one began, its voice emotionless and bored. "He was asking to be killed." My eyes narrowed. How could they treat a death like it was nothing? "Then at 10:20, he suffocated. I don't know how. I work in a loony-bin, not a crime lab." That pang of guilt. How could I make it go away? I watched him suffer in this place. I helped him escape it. His pain was mine now. His gashes now belonged to me. I continued listening, sighing slightly.

"I guess we'll just mark him as deceased then," the other one said, almost in the same tone as the first. "What was his name again?" My heart sunk slightly as the first human spoke again.

"Bakura. Ryou Bakura."