Disclaimer: I don't own Yuugiou.
Warnings: Blood.
Author's Notes: This is all up to you. Either I leave it discontinued, or I go on. Which is it? First chaptered story; hope I can do well.
True Evil
He woke with a loud gasp, filling his deprived lungs with air as he sat up. His eyes moved about the bedroom as the nightmare gradually faded from his memory. It was the same; pale cream walls, red oak dresser, whitewashed desk and chair. He had been in this room many times before, had come to think of it as his haven, but now it looked threatening. The deep shadows casting across from the familiar objects could hide any danger, the closet could hold something unimaginable.
He sighed, shaking his head as he stood. This was silly. It was his room, in the middle of Domino! Who would come just to scare him and his family? They had no enemies.
Tugging on a pair of jeans, he walked silently down the hall to press his ear to the other's bedroom door. Silence. Good, he was still asleep. As was his parent; he could hear his father's loud snores across from him.
Going to the other end, he slipped down the stairs and into the kitchen, not bothering with a light, since he could see just fine. He went to the cabinet, pulling out a tea kettle while he glanced at the clock mounted above the door. He immediately grimaced.
Four in the morning? Now I'm happy I woke no one up.
Standing by the stove, waiting patiently for the water to come to a boil, he suddenly realized that he was cold. Not just cold; freezing. He wrapped his bare arms around himself and cursed mentally for not getting a shirt.
He glanced to the thermostat, and stopped dead. It read eighty degrees.
No. No, no, no.
Shivering, he turned to face the shadowed kitchen, goosebumps rising along any exposed flesh. Fear clenched in his abdomen as he glanced around, breath coming a bit harder than before.
He had no warning.
Burning pain seared up his body as a cold knife was slammed into his back, being ripped out only to pierce his flesh again. Hot blood poured down his back; he turned and tried to stop the next blow. He couldn't; the blade sliced into his chest with the sickening sound of messily torn skin and muscle.
He couldn't scream, he had no breath for it. Fear and agony flashed up through his frame as the knife was shoved between his ribs. He saw a glimpse of light coloured hair and burning violet eyes as he tried to fend his attacker off, failing miserably.
Never had he felt such pain, such a guttural instinct to live. But it all stopped when the dagger tore its way into his heart.
He lay sprawled across the kitchen table, panting harshly, blood and pain still pulsing over him. The kettle had started to whistle, but he didn't notice.
Sitting up, Itemri Ryou watched wearily as another's blood and wounds faded from his body and the walls, emerald eyes tired and dull.
"Not again," he whispered, voice carrying all the horror that wasn't seen in any physical way.
Well? Stop, or continue? It's your choice!
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Jalicyn-chan