Hello first. I'm not in the mood to talk much now, so I'll just do the
disclaimer and give some notes.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but this story's plot and my genius.
Notes:
Ryou Bakura = Ryou Yami Bakura = Bakura Malik = Malik Yami Malik = Marik
Dawn
It's dark on the other side of the window. I can't see it, because the old curtains are always closed, but I still feel it. The air in my room is dusty, I can see the particles float around in the pale streaks of silvery light that manage to get through the ripped tissue.
I smile.
He is still asleep. His body is nothing but a shadowy form under the heavy covers of the bed, but once he gets up, you can see that he is much bigger than he seems to be now.
I imagine what a chirping bird would sound like. I remember there used to be birds outside my window, introducing me to the new day. But I have forgotten.
I try to recall how that song my father used to whistle while making breakfast went. But I don't remember.
I sit in a corner on the opposite side of the window. As far away from him as I can.
There are no birds outside the window. There haven't been any birds for the last two... or was it three years? Four? It does not matter. Not since my father died. Not ever since he came into my pathetic excuse of something others would call life.
He stirs.
The light that shone on the bed before has now turned to gold, tracing his sharp features with its gentle touch.
The covers rustle and he turns over, eyes still closed.
I want to sigh in relief he has not awoken yet. But I don't. He will always find me, if not now, then later. It makes no difference to me.
I hug my arms tighter around my knees and smile.
I am happy.
That's what he says. And if he says so, I will believe.
I have been up all night, watching him sleep. He is beautiful when he is sleeping. He is also beautiful when he is awake, but then there is few time for me to admire him.
My room is cold. The glass in the window's frame has long been broken, but he does not care, so neither do I. The cold wind of the night has been chilling the house since I could not remember, but then again, it has always been cold in this place.
But I don't mind as long as he is alright with it.
He stirs again, then slowly opens an eye and quickly scans the room, spotting me in my corner.
He smirks.
I smile.
I know what he is thinking and I know he knows that I know. A long time ago that cruel smirk had frightened me, but now that I know what to expect I am not scared of him anymore.
Come here, he says.
Carefully I untangle my stiff legs and try to stand up. In winter this is so much more difficult when my limbs are frozen, but after I while I got used to it.
Like I did to so many other things.
You walk as if you ate a broom, he snarls. Now come here or I will teach you an extra lesson to obey me, understood?
I nod and stumble over to him.
He frowns. Ever since he started... doing things with me I have stopped talking. No matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to wrench any noise from my throat. At first it helped, because he wouldn't beat me so hard when I didn't scream, but it was extremely difficult to get all the blood out of my lungs and windpipe without coughing.
Lie down, he ordered.
Submissively I lowered myself onto the mattress and waited for him to get started. As time had passed by I became used to this ritual too. It actually began to feel good after some time, though just a little. If our mind link had still been open he could have sensed the small waves of pleasure through all the pain I felt, but I am sure this would have been reason enough for him to make our daily ritual a little more painful for me.
He had told me once that he denied me pleasure because it would ruin his fun. He was only satisfied when he was sure that I bled enough and was in pain, only then he could find true release.
If this was what was making him happy, I was more than eager to grant him his wish.
I can hear his grunts and small moans of pleasure above me. My vision is a bit blurry from all the blood loss he had inflicted on me; now and many a day before. My chest hurts with each shaky breath I suck into my battered lung, but I have to stay conscious for all I am worth. If I pass out again he will be angry with me and beat me worse.
With I final grunt I can feel him spill his warm essence into my bodily cavities.
When he finally catches his breath again he looks at me and smirks at me.
Oh, little Ryou has enjoyed our small game as well, has he?he whispers in my ear mockingly, referring to my lower body which yearns to be touched.
I nod, for this is all I can do in that half comatose daze my mind is in. I can tell my cheeks are flushed and I am still breathing rather heavily.
As I feel his weight settle over my chest I desperately try to pump some much needed air into my lungs. His smirk changes into a disgusted look on his evenly flushed face when he notices the nasty rumble that lets my ribcage vibrate. Probably a broken rib again. Or two.
Do something against this, he growls, lifting himself off of me and heading for the bathroom.
Tiredly I lie back down and force myself to relax. Now he will take a shower, plunder the kitchen of its very last contents and maybe telling me to do some shopping today before going over to the Ishtar's. Marik and him were always planning something, though it wasn't really hard to guess, because all those two would and could ever think about was revenge on the "damn pharaoh" or a possible way how to rule the world.
I wished I could have come with him today to see Malik, my one and only friend, but I realised I was in no shape to go anywhere today. Malik was in a similar situation with his yami and he would comfort me when Bakura had hurt me again.
I adore Malik. I know his yami hurts him way worse than Bakura hurts me, but he always tells me I should not worry about him and that everything would be okay if I was alright. Our yamis usually leave the house to go plotting and this was our time.
Since I couldn't talk he would sometimes sing to me in languages unknown to me. I didn't understand what the songs and murmurs were about, but they were in a strange way comforting. And that was all I needed then.
Sometimes he would tell me old Egyptian tales his sister Isis had told him when they were young and I listened to his every word.
I smiled a lot when Malik Ishtar was around.
"I'm going over to Marik, little pet", Bakura suddenly yelled from downstairs, brutally yanking me out of my daydream. "Don't forget to buy enough beer, clean the livingroom and get your fucking ass cleaned up", he went on.
After a minute of silence I heard him ascend the stairs. I know what will happen now.
Ryyyoouuuu... why don't you answer me when I speak to you?" He taunts me with a threatening sweet smile on his face.
He knows very well I cannot answer him, but he would never let a chance to abuse me pass.
I am still lying on my... on his bed.
I smile.
He is now looming directly next to me.
You know what to expect when I get home and nothing is done, don't you, little pet?His expression is full of malice and hidden anger.
I smile and nod.
His expression now changes from anger to disgust. "You're sick, you know that..."
And with that he leaves.
The sun has now fully risen I can tell. The soft golden light throws eerie shadows and forms of light onto the opposite wall.
Dawn is the best time of the day, I muse. When he is still asleep and the silvery moonlight cascades over the walls.
When I sit in my corner of the room and wait.
When the birds are silent.
I smile.
So, first chapter finished. This was meant to be a one-shot originally but every time I try to end it somewhere a plot bunny bites my ankle and won't let go of me. Pretty unnerving, that is.
But never mind.
Chapter 2 up soon.
You don't have to review if you don't want to, I'll finish this story anyways. (Though I wouldn't mind feedback, of course.)
TBC
Disclaimer: I own nothing but this story's plot and my genius.
Notes:
Ryou Bakura = Ryou Yami Bakura = Bakura Malik = Malik Yami Malik = Marik
Dawn
It's dark on the other side of the window. I can't see it, because the old curtains are always closed, but I still feel it. The air in my room is dusty, I can see the particles float around in the pale streaks of silvery light that manage to get through the ripped tissue.
I smile.
He is still asleep. His body is nothing but a shadowy form under the heavy covers of the bed, but once he gets up, you can see that he is much bigger than he seems to be now.
I imagine what a chirping bird would sound like. I remember there used to be birds outside my window, introducing me to the new day. But I have forgotten.
I try to recall how that song my father used to whistle while making breakfast went. But I don't remember.
I sit in a corner on the opposite side of the window. As far away from him as I can.
There are no birds outside the window. There haven't been any birds for the last two... or was it three years? Four? It does not matter. Not since my father died. Not ever since he came into my pathetic excuse of something others would call life.
He stirs.
The light that shone on the bed before has now turned to gold, tracing his sharp features with its gentle touch.
The covers rustle and he turns over, eyes still closed.
I want to sigh in relief he has not awoken yet. But I don't. He will always find me, if not now, then later. It makes no difference to me.
I hug my arms tighter around my knees and smile.
I am happy.
That's what he says. And if he says so, I will believe.
I have been up all night, watching him sleep. He is beautiful when he is sleeping. He is also beautiful when he is awake, but then there is few time for me to admire him.
My room is cold. The glass in the window's frame has long been broken, but he does not care, so neither do I. The cold wind of the night has been chilling the house since I could not remember, but then again, it has always been cold in this place.
But I don't mind as long as he is alright with it.
He stirs again, then slowly opens an eye and quickly scans the room, spotting me in my corner.
He smirks.
I smile.
I know what he is thinking and I know he knows that I know. A long time ago that cruel smirk had frightened me, but now that I know what to expect I am not scared of him anymore.
Come here, he says.
Carefully I untangle my stiff legs and try to stand up. In winter this is so much more difficult when my limbs are frozen, but after I while I got used to it.
Like I did to so many other things.
You walk as if you ate a broom, he snarls. Now come here or I will teach you an extra lesson to obey me, understood?
I nod and stumble over to him.
He frowns. Ever since he started... doing things with me I have stopped talking. No matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to wrench any noise from my throat. At first it helped, because he wouldn't beat me so hard when I didn't scream, but it was extremely difficult to get all the blood out of my lungs and windpipe without coughing.
Lie down, he ordered.
Submissively I lowered myself onto the mattress and waited for him to get started. As time had passed by I became used to this ritual too. It actually began to feel good after some time, though just a little. If our mind link had still been open he could have sensed the small waves of pleasure through all the pain I felt, but I am sure this would have been reason enough for him to make our daily ritual a little more painful for me.
He had told me once that he denied me pleasure because it would ruin his fun. He was only satisfied when he was sure that I bled enough and was in pain, only then he could find true release.
If this was what was making him happy, I was more than eager to grant him his wish.
I can hear his grunts and small moans of pleasure above me. My vision is a bit blurry from all the blood loss he had inflicted on me; now and many a day before. My chest hurts with each shaky breath I suck into my battered lung, but I have to stay conscious for all I am worth. If I pass out again he will be angry with me and beat me worse.
With I final grunt I can feel him spill his warm essence into my bodily cavities.
When he finally catches his breath again he looks at me and smirks at me.
Oh, little Ryou has enjoyed our small game as well, has he?he whispers in my ear mockingly, referring to my lower body which yearns to be touched.
I nod, for this is all I can do in that half comatose daze my mind is in. I can tell my cheeks are flushed and I am still breathing rather heavily.
As I feel his weight settle over my chest I desperately try to pump some much needed air into my lungs. His smirk changes into a disgusted look on his evenly flushed face when he notices the nasty rumble that lets my ribcage vibrate. Probably a broken rib again. Or two.
Do something against this, he growls, lifting himself off of me and heading for the bathroom.
Tiredly I lie back down and force myself to relax. Now he will take a shower, plunder the kitchen of its very last contents and maybe telling me to do some shopping today before going over to the Ishtar's. Marik and him were always planning something, though it wasn't really hard to guess, because all those two would and could ever think about was revenge on the "damn pharaoh" or a possible way how to rule the world.
I wished I could have come with him today to see Malik, my one and only friend, but I realised I was in no shape to go anywhere today. Malik was in a similar situation with his yami and he would comfort me when Bakura had hurt me again.
I adore Malik. I know his yami hurts him way worse than Bakura hurts me, but he always tells me I should not worry about him and that everything would be okay if I was alright. Our yamis usually leave the house to go plotting and this was our time.
Since I couldn't talk he would sometimes sing to me in languages unknown to me. I didn't understand what the songs and murmurs were about, but they were in a strange way comforting. And that was all I needed then.
Sometimes he would tell me old Egyptian tales his sister Isis had told him when they were young and I listened to his every word.
I smiled a lot when Malik Ishtar was around.
"I'm going over to Marik, little pet", Bakura suddenly yelled from downstairs, brutally yanking me out of my daydream. "Don't forget to buy enough beer, clean the livingroom and get your fucking ass cleaned up", he went on.
After a minute of silence I heard him ascend the stairs. I know what will happen now.
Ryyyoouuuu... why don't you answer me when I speak to you?" He taunts me with a threatening sweet smile on his face.
He knows very well I cannot answer him, but he would never let a chance to abuse me pass.
I am still lying on my... on his bed.
I smile.
He is now looming directly next to me.
You know what to expect when I get home and nothing is done, don't you, little pet?His expression is full of malice and hidden anger.
I smile and nod.
His expression now changes from anger to disgust. "You're sick, you know that..."
And with that he leaves.
The sun has now fully risen I can tell. The soft golden light throws eerie shadows and forms of light onto the opposite wall.
Dawn is the best time of the day, I muse. When he is still asleep and the silvery moonlight cascades over the walls.
When I sit in my corner of the room and wait.
When the birds are silent.
I smile.
So, first chapter finished. This was meant to be a one-shot originally but every time I try to end it somewhere a plot bunny bites my ankle and won't let go of me. Pretty unnerving, that is.
But never mind.
Chapter 2 up soon.
You don't have to review if you don't want to, I'll finish this story anyways. (Though I wouldn't mind feedback, of course.)
TBC