Heyloooo everyone. Its AnnieBear91 here! Justa few stuffs before we crack on. I don't own Yugioh or any characters, or else there would be less cards, more Bakura. Also more puppyshipping ^^

Secondllllyyyyyyy….this story belongs to Magnetic-Paw. She's an awesome artist and she's written this. Kind of. If you get me. I've written it, but it's her story. So the brilliant plot line belongs to her! You should totally check out her DeviantART under the same name. yeh. Anyway, onwards!

Joey stared at the wall. It was no use. No matter what he did, it was getting worse. He rolled up his sleeve. Scars blemished his skin, cutting past the mere flesh barrier, dissolving into veins and muscle. He closed his eyes. He didn't need to look. He knew they where there. He could feel them. Every time he looked he could feel them all over again, the tearing of skin, the snapping of bone, the crushing of his spirit. His father was a bastard. He had long wanted to escape, but he could never bring himself to do it. He knew how much his father had suffered in the past, when his wife left him, left him with his son…His son. He didn't get the cute, intelligent daughter. No. he got the troublesome, dim-witted and careless son. The one he never even wanted. He loathed the child since it was born. He wanted a daughter. Never a son. Joey knew this. He had been told time after time when his father came home in a drunken rage, slurring his speech, tossing glass and knives at the innocent blond, who would do nothing but stand in the corner and try to defend himself. But it was useless. It was always useless. His father was a big man, loud, oafish and strong. He was a brute and easily overpowered his son. There was no escape. He would go and gamble away $500 that they didn't have every night, and then spend another $100 at the bar. He would sway in, look for teen, before taking out all of his anger, his rage, and his hate for everyone, on the boy.

There was nothing Joey could do. He couldn't fight back. He couldn't cry. He couldn't tell anyone, and if he did, they wouldn't understand anyway. Half of them wouldn't even care. In a few months, he wouldn't even be a minor anymore, so there would be nothing he could do. Even if he had the option, he'd remain silent. He loved his father. In a weird sort of way. He was aware the man brought him into the world and he could take him out of it too. He could also dominate everything in-between, whether Joey liked it or not. So he endured it. He endured broken bones, cracked ribs, fractures, bruises, haemorrhages and cuts, every night. He'd occasionally go to the hospital, saying he was attacked. He'd alternate between the Domino one, and the neighbouring town, which would hopefully minimize suspicion.

He looked to a small photo on his battered up bed side table. A picture with his friends. His friends. The only things that brought him joy, kept him from vanishing permanently and taking his own life. He traced a finger along the lines of the photo, the smiling faces of Yugi, Yami, Tristan and Téa looking up at him. Ryou stood next to Yugi, an innocent smile on his face. In the corner was Bakura, looking incredibly bored and uninterested. Malik and Marik stood behind Bakura pulling faces at the albino's ignorance. Joey smiled. He remembered that day.

It was the first day the yamis received their own bodies and they'd decided to go to the fair. Joey had eaten tons that day. They had all gone on rides, with Bakura coming to the conclusion the 'bastard pharaoh' was trying to kill him. He'd later sent 4 clowns to the shadow realm with the help of Malik after having water squirted from a flower. Damned witches. They where everywhere these days, according to the white haired man.

Joey pulled off his shirt and went to the mirror, examining the new scars on his back. His father had thrown 5 beer bottles at him, before smashing one over his head. He had already mopped the blood from his blond locks, being careful to avoid opening scabs. He now had the greater challenge of cleaning his back. He decided a shower would be his best option before wrapping a large bandage around himself. This way, if he stretched at school, the blood wouldn't seep through his uniform. It was perfect.

Nervously, he let the shower run, barricading the door as he did so. He knew his father would be asleep now, but it was better to be safe. He stepped under the water, the harsh wetness imminently singeing his skin. He swallowed the lump in his throat, begging himself not to cry. He felt the water mingle with blood, as he gently leant up to scrape away the drying blood. He felt his heart twinge with pain and a sickness run to his throat as his nail caught a deep scar. His breath hitched. 'Must not cry. I am strong. I can do this.' He took a few deep breaths again before feeling for more dried blood. Relieved to discover it gone, he stepped out of the shower, gently tapping his skin with a towel. He pulled out bandages from a bag he'd took in. Facing the mirror, he held one part of the bandage central to his chest before tightly wrapping it around his torso once, twice, three times. He pulled it tight, before pinning into place. He stared at himself in the mirror. His brown eyes glassy from pain. He closed his eyes from a moment, reopening them to see a new fire in the mirror. He was Joey Wheeler, and he was strong.