Roy was mostly asleep when he thought he heard a crash. He lifted his head a little, looking around with half lidded eyes. Groaning, he pushed himself up out of bed and threw on a pair of jeans that were laying beside his bed. Just incase he had to chase some jackass down for stealing.

He carefully opened the door to his room, glancing at Bakura's door directly across. It was closed, and probably locked, he assumed. Roy shrugged. Bakura's probably sound asleep…

Creeping down the hallway, he could hear footsteps. There was a faint whispering, too. Narrowing his eyes, Roy pressed himself flat against the wall. I've gotta round the corner. One…two…three!

Roy spun around the corner into the kitchen and looked around. It was dark, but he could see the window by the door was shattered and the door was half open. Someone's in the house… Roy shut the door quietly and felt something cold at his throat. His eyes went wide and his breath caught.

"Don't move," a deep, gruff voice warned him.

He tried to recognize the voice, but he couldn't. He shivered a little as he tried to look down. The only thing Roy could see was the moonlight bouncing off the metal at his neck. A knife… "What do you want?" Roy asked, keeping his hands up to show he was unarmed.

"A few things…" The man cackled lightly. "First, any money you have."

"My money's in my wallet," Roy said in a quiet tone.

The intruder's mouth was right near his ear, breathing against his clammy skin each time he spoke. "Where's your wallet?"

Roy swallowed, trying to keep from shaking. "Back pocket." He was overly worried about the knife at his neck; otherwise, he would take a chance to get this guy away from him.

There was a humming in his ear as he felt a hand go to a back pocket, the empty one. The burglar slipped his hand in, squeezing. Roy debated screaming or yelling for Bakura's help, but he was still apprehensive about the cold knife being held up.

"Not in that one…" The hand let go and pulled out of his pocket. Roy let out a small breath as the intruder snatched his wallet from the other pocket.

"O-Okay. You have my money. Just…take whatever else you want in the house and go," he stammered. He hadn't prayed a day in his life, but Roy was on the brink of it now. "Please?"

He heard a horse laugh, the assailant's breath pushing against the back of his neck. "You have one other thing I want."

Roy kept quiet, waiting for the man's request. It never came and he was slightly confused. "…What?"

"I need your hands," the intruder drawled.

While his lip quivered a bit, Roy started to tremble. "What f-for?..."

"Just give me your hands!"

The knife pushed more against his neck, causing Roy to squeak a little. "Okay, okay!" He moved his shaking hands behind him and a hand grabbed them forcefully. Roy struggled to pull away from the grip, but it wasn't working.

"Keep struggling," the man hissed into Roy's ear, "and you won't get to see the sunrise."

Roy clenched down on his lower lip, biting for all he's worth. He refused to say another word. This…has to be a bad dream.

A second later, Roy shut his eyes and felt the knife get pulled away as the unknown person shoved him, keeping a hold of his hands while slamming him face first into the closest wall. Roy groaned. It hurt worse then the last time he got hit in a bar. Frankly, he hoped the guy would just hit him and knock him out already.

The attacker kept his hands together tightly, not even giving an inch of movement. Roy could hear a zipping sound and he tried looking over his shoulder. Keeping his voice down to a whisper, he asked, "What're you doing?"

There was a cackling and Roy thought he saw the person put the knife on the kitchen counter out of the corner of his eye. "Getting what I want." An unexpected hand snuck around to Roy's front, undoing the button and zipper of his jeans. Everything was becoming clear now and Roy tried shifting his body away.

"Oh no. You said take what I want," the attacker grumbled, pulling away his hand to push Roy flat against the wall.

Roy was pushing back with all his strength and nothing was working. He let out a whine. "Please…stop."

"Yeah. You keep whining about it. It'll get you far."

Roy felt a kiss be pressed to his neck and the little clothes he had on be pushed down. He tried pushing closer to the wall to get away from the touch, but it didn't help. "C'mon man. This isn't funny anymore," he couldn't even make himself sound strong. Roy's voice cracked and he just sounded like he was whining. He struggled again, which got him a hard bite to his shoulder. Roy grunted, biting down on his lip again. This time, he could taste blood seep into his mouth.

"Stop struggling. Now."

He whimpered as the hand on his back slid down to his lower back. Roy's trembling got worse as he felt the attacker push into him. He gritted his teeth, trying to hold back fro making a sound. Roy hit his head against the wall, hating himself for getting out of bed in the first place.

The attacker pulled out, only to push back in just as quickly. Roy could hear them give a soft hum, equivalent to an approval. His chest heaved against the wall, mind floating to a world of pain. It went on for another minute or two before it was all over, the attacker pulling out of him and holding the knife to the back of his neck. "Now I'll let your hands go," the mused, "as long as you don't try anything funny. Otherwise, you'll have a knife in your neck."

Roy nodded. The night was bad enough, a nightmare even. He just wanted to crawl back into bed and forget it all happened. He could feel the knife fixed on him as his hands were let go. Hearing the attacker zip up his pants, Roy let out a light sigh of relief. The knife pressed a little harder before it was completely gone. Pushing off the wall, Roy wiped the sweat on his forehead before pulling up his boxers and jeans.

He looked around in a daze, moonlight still shining through the windows, and the assailant gone. Roy's lower lip quivered and for the first time in his twenty-one years: he just wanted to cry.

Body feeling weak and sore all over, Roy shut the back door of the house before slowly making his way back down the hallway. He choked back a sob as he knocked on Bakura's room. "Bakura," he called. "Bakura, please open the door…"

There was no answer and Roy tried the knob. It was open. Roy stumbled in with a hurt expression on his face. "Bakura…" Bakura wasn't in his bed, or evening his room at all. Glancing over at where Bakura usually had a knife out, he noticed it was gone. Roy felt sick to his stomach and took a few steps back, collapsing on Bakura's bed with a whimper.

"Bak…" Roy curled up with the blankets of his bed, waiting for the sun to rise and Bakura to return.