Comprehension
by Shadowesque13
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst
Summary: My first published YGO fic. Seto repents. He wishes they could understand.
Dis: The world of YGO is not mine. Give credit where credit is due.

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I'm different from all of them. They could never begin to comprehend. To understand the subtle complexities of my psyche.

No, they just go about their lives, blissfully unaware that one of their friends is about to kill himself. I stare out the window of one of the many rooms in the tall Kaiba Corporation building. And I sadly chuckle.

Fools.

Pathetic. Just like me. Just like my life. Why call it a life? I never had one.

I had power.

I had money.

I had torment.

A life? I scoff. Right. It's truly laughable.

Or maybe I'm just insane.

Yes, that's it, isn't it? I'm insane. Or clinically depressed. Or some other mental mumbo-jumbo. I don't care anymore.

I'm sorry for everything wrongful I've ever done. I repent my sins. I repent them through death. I'm not the cold-hearted bastard they know me as. I have feelings. I have emotions. I think of others. And yet look. I've hid all of that away in a hardened exterior of hatred and angst. Nobody is allowed to touch me. To touch the innermost me.

I'm sad. I cry. And I do this openly, even if no soul is around. I feel like I should tell somebody. They wouldn't understand.

The rope in my hand feels rough, rugged, ready for action.

As I'm staring out this window, I tie a noose. I'm not sure where I learned to do this, really. Maybe from t.v.

They love me. As I have loved them. But never shown it. And now I'll never be able to.

Or perhaps I will by doing this.

They'll never see it coming. What a surprise this shall be. A laugh escapes my rotten lips. It echoes through the large and cavernous room. It doesn't sound like the boy I used to know. It sounds like my so-called father's villainous laugh.

No, it sounds worse than that.

Why is it not my own voice anymore? What happened to me? I'm frightened of myself now. That's why I know I want to do this.

I pull myself from the pane of glass, grabbing a chair along the way. I stand upon it and tie one end of the bundled threads to a light fixture.

Funny. All a rope is is many threads together to create a stronger one. I've frayed. Have I always been so? Of this, I'm sure.

I slip the hoop 'round my frail neck and tighten it. I feel each of these tiny threads rough against my skin. I feel my pulse against the rope noose. It's faster than normal. I'm slightly confused by this. Why? I have nothing to fear. I'm doing this for my own benefit. Perhaps the benefit of others as well.

It still doesn't quell my rapid heartbeat.

I quickly kick the chair away. Gravity, my dear friend, pulls me toward the center of the Earth when my feet no longer touch anything but air. I fall. How long will this take? It feels forever. An eternity of falling. Suddenly, the noose has ended, jerks up against my throat while I still am going downward. My body comes to a stop as I swing in the air. Amusing, it must look. As much as I wish to fight the urge to struggle, I suppose there are weak Human instincts that you can't get rid of. I gasp and choke. I grasp at the death trap clinging to my neck. I feel light-headed. Oh joy, lack of oxygen is kicking in. I want to grin, but my damned instincts won't let me. Soon I'm too tired to do anything. My arms hang limply by my sides. My chest has stopped heaving. I suppose I'm dead now. Lovely. My brain won't be able to tell my heart to beat much longer. Then all shall stop inside. I'll hang, grow cold. I cry, and I repent the sins of all my friends as well.

I wish so badly that they could understand.