Feelings are Lost
I feel alone. No, scratch that, I am alone. I am 16 and I live completely alone. And I have been alone for as long as I can remember. I did have a family, a mother and even a twin sister, but that was a pleasure short lived.
When I was a young child, almost about to turn the mere age of 5, my mother had taken me and my sister out for a calming Sunday drive through the streets of London. It was a clear and bright spring morning in the month of March, and I could feel the tender sun shine through the window of my mother's very old gas guzzler. It seemed like a normal day, with laughs and giggles from me and Amane, my sister…But that is when everything seemed to go wrong. All I can remember after that was my mother trying to speed up and ride through the short remaining seconds of a yellow light. But, she was hit, and everything after is all a blur, as I had blacked out.
When I awoke, I found myself in a hospital room, no sights of my mother or my sister anywhere. I began to panic. Being only five at the time, what did you expect? I cried out for my mother, wanting her comfort, but no answer. I looked down at my body. I was wrapped in casts, which through them I could see blood. And yet, I felt no pain. Had I just been asleep for that long? But, that was when a doctor who had heard my yells came in and told me news I hadn't wanted to hear. That mother and Stacy were killed on impact.
When I was told this, I had no idea how to react being so young. I was shocked at first, and then, I was angry. I shouted at the doctor to stop lying to me, and to take me to my mother. After he told me what he said was true many more times, more then I could remember, I wept. And yet, it did not feel as though I was crying. I felt no tears, and I felt no stinging in my eyes. I reached up one of my unwrapped hands to wipe my face, and yet I felt nothing. I did not know what was happening, and I hadn't known until just last year.
I was in my home, having lived alone for a year now, and I heard the phone begin to ring. I stood from my couch, which I hoped was soft, and walked slowly over to the piercing sound of the ringing. I picked up the phone; I could not feel the round body in my hands, yet I knew it was there. It was neurosurgeon, who worked alongside with the special doctor my old adoptive father would make me see, before he left that is. No one knows where he went, but most likely because I never shared. He told me that I had lost all feeling in my body, a fact I had known since that day in the hospital. But, he said it may be because of the accident, and he may be able to fix it. I did not say a word, I simply hung up. I would not be able to afford this operation, and I can live with the fact that I will never feel again.
So now, there I was, my first day at a new school. I was transferred after my father left, for he had homeschooled me. And, whoever wants to be the new kid? I was stared at by almost everyone in the white brick wall halls lined with lockers, as I walked down it, for I felt I did not
fit in. I am pale and awfully small for my age, and I my courage and strength is not the best either. I walked with my eyes on my feet, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. I could make easy prey for the many predators I knew were lurking those halls. That may have not been the best plan though, because soon enough, I had run into the back of someone who looked as though he had been held back twice.
He was tall and looked extremely buff; probably a member of the football team, and his team of goons didn't look average either. He turned almost gracefully to face me, towering above me, with an obvious glare. A smirk forming slowly on his face, he scoffed and looked at his posy.
"Well, look what we have here boys, this must be a new kid," he scoffed, and his group murmured small yeses, smirking down at me.
I didn't know how I should react to such a greeting, so I gulped down a lump forming in my throat and nodded. I would have run away, but I felt as though my feet were glued to the ground, and they wouldn't let me run. "Y-Yes…"
That answer only seemed to make their smirks grow larger, and they gathered slowly around me and circled me like an ocean of sharks, and I was a dead fish. "Well new kid, it seems you don't know who we are. We run these halls and have a certain ritual for new kids," the leader of the group chuckled and looked down on me.
Already I knew what was going to happen. I was going to get beaten up by this group of kids who looked like they were supposed to be in college. But, I was not scared, I refused to be scared. I knew it would not hurt me.
After his little so-called speech, the group pulled me off and did their duty, and left me against the wall, bruised and bleeding. Many would think I would have been crying, but, I wasn't. I was smiling, and even laughing. A few of the students saw my beaten figure on the ground, but simply raised a brow and me and walked away. I felt overjoyed, for I had felt what happened. I felt every punch, every kick and every blow to my body.
I, Ryou Bakura, age sixteen, had just felt my first sensation I had felt in eleven years, and it was the most pleasurable feeling in the world. I may be alone, but now I will never feel alone.