Author's Note: I've been kicking this idea around since eighth grade and I've finally gotten a clear enough head to get it down on (paper?) computer. : 3 enjoy you guys.
Disclaimer: I do not own, or claim to own Yu-gi-oh/ yugioh/ You-gay-hoe or however the hell you wanna spell it.
Warning: this first chapter might be a little graphic and confusing. You're just being thrown into the story at the head of an internal conflict in my main character. If you have a problem with suicide and cursing, there's still a chance to press the back button. Just a warning for you guys.
Chapter 1: Suicidal Tendencies.
It had been one of those days. It had been one of those days that she hated. She had been ostracized, berated, abused, everything that hurt a person deep inside. When she walked into her house she slammed the door loudly and glared at it for a moment as if everything was its fault.
"God damn it all to puss-spewing, blood, gutted hell," the girl said. She threw her backpack on the couch and walked to her kitchen for a glass of water. There was a note on the refrigerator.
'Saisei-chan,
Urgent business has come up with work and I'll be away for a few weeks. Take care of yourself.
Dad'
'Doesn't even say 'love Dad' anymore. He just leaves,' she thought. Since her mother had died Saisei's father seemed to care less and less about her. She was a nuisance; a monthly bill. It bothered her that she was so neglectable. She blamed her personality, her life, her father, her mother, everything.
"Why today?" she asked the air in front of her. She felt lost, like her insides were turning into dust under her skin.
"Momma…did you want to leave me behind?" she asked the ceiling.
"Today at school…they called me freak again…and said you died because you hated me…they said I killed you. They also said I killed Matsu…remember? The boy from third grade that picked on me after you died? I wanted him to die…but I didn't kill him…" Saisei said as she walked to her bathroom. She switched on the light, the bright white and sterility of the bathroom mocking her weak heart.
-Just do it. Do you think it'll matter? It'll teach them. Your dad won't be home for a few weeks. When he comes home, you'll be mostly rotted. It'll be great…-
"Get out of my head" Saisei whispered, trembling and staring into her mirror. She put one of her hands on the cold glass of it. Her nails were chewed, and the skin gnawed. She had gotten really nervous that day. The corners of her nails were coloured with blood. A nose bleed and chewing through the skin on her nails caused them to be stained so.
Saisei looked at her reflection. Her blonde and white hair was mussed and flat in spots. Her eyes looked too large for her face, with circles under them like she was ill. Her cheeks were slightly sunken. She looked down at her sink.
-…it's right in the drawer.-
"I should…shouldn't I?"
-Yes. You're tired, you're sick. It'll make you feel better…-
Saisei opened the drawer of the counter her sink was set into and looked into it. There was a razor blade sitting right inside like God himself had set it there with the gentleness of a cloud. She picked it up and looked at it. Had this razor ever been used for anything? She looked at it with eyes dull with exhaustion and disillusionment. She looked at her left wrist as if seeing it for the first time.
Softly, she set the razor to her wrist and danced it gently across her wrist, creating a thin red line perpendicular to her fingers. She looked at the line with disgust and put the razor back and dug it deep into her pale flesh. She could feel the flesh in her arm separate and she screamed from everything but the pain. She took the razor and from the top of her middle finger dug it deep into the flesh ending at her elbow. She watched the wound ooze away her life. She started feeling dizzy. She gouged at the wound, screaming every time she did so. On the floor, small pieces of flesh lay, unnoticed. She looked at the mess that was once her arm and she shuddered with dry heaving sobs. She grabbed the razor, and gripped it with difficulty with the other hand and carved a cross into her arm.
"…God have mercy…" she hissed. She staggered back to her bedroom. She dripped blood and left spatters on the wall from where she flailed and used the wall as support. She collapsed on her bed and felt her life drain away. With every beat of her heart, blood pulsed onto the bed, cascading down to the floor where it pooled and soaked into the carpet. Her mind swam in abstract thoughts of pain and weightlessness.
-You're dying.-
'Yeah...I am…'
-Is that really what you want?-
"I don't know what I want. I just want to stop hurting…"
Saisei looked at the ceiling above her with expressionless eyes. Would this ceiling be the last thing that she saw? She was almost too far gone, too tired to care about it. She just wanted to close her eyes.
/Is this what you really want?/
"Why ask? I'm laying here dying, aren't I?" Saisei whispered.
/You can't die./
"Why not? Who are you to say?"
/I'm you./
"You're lying. Why mock me on my death bed?" Saisei asked, agitated. She looked around her room and saw a girl who looked much like her. The girl's skin was darker, and her hair had more strands of white. The eyes were more silver than blue as well. She wore a long, white, cotton Egyptian dress, with gold trim and at the clasps of the straps were strange, gold, ornamental eyes. A gold tiara with the same eye adorned her head.
/I'm your past./
"My past? My past is a painful childhood, a suicidal mother and a father who can't even stand to look at me. My past is other children calling me a monster, and a murderer. That is my past. And you…" Saisei began faltering. She then noticed that she could see, very faintly, the outline of the items in her room through the other girl.
"You are transparent. You are an illusion; a hallucination caused from blood loss. You are anything but my past…" she said trailing off. The other girl smiled.
/You have fallen so far, little angel. Your light has faded,/ the girl whispered.
"I don't understand," Saisei murmured.
/Before this life of pain, you were the daughter of a pharaoh, loved by the people. Your life was lavish, and filled with adventure, and ecstasies that can never be recreated in this world. After an accident, you blamed yourself for being unable to save a life, and blamed your father for being the murderer. In spite and sorrow, you took your own life./
"That seems to be a pattern with me," Saisei chuckled to herself. She looked into the eyes of the apparition and her vision seemed to blur.
/Can't you feel the connection to that?/
"I can't feel anything. My legs are numb. I'm too tired to feel any emotion what so ever, My arms don't even hurt anymore. I don't feel pain, I just feel tired…I just want to sleep…" Saisei said quietly.
"Can I be saved?" Saisei mumbled.
/That is up to you. Is it in my power? Yes, but the choice is yours./
Saisei looked to the ceiling.
'He must have really been something…' she thought, too exhausted to speak.
/Who?/
Saisei felt surprised, but did not have the energy to show it.
'The boy I died for. He must have been something.'
/He was. He was a man of intensity, and mystery. His head was forever in the clouds and he lived his life by his heart…but how did you know it was a—/
'The only time a woman ends her life is when she's lost the love of her life. That love could be a man, or a passion, or something else entirely, but it is then and only then that she will take her life,' she thought. The other girl smiled.
/You will meet him, and his light./
'Light?'
/Yes, a reincarnation. You will understand the principals of the light and darkness of a person in time. In case you were wondering, I am your dark./
'Oh,' Saisei thought, her mind bleeding into the infinite blackness of death, 'I would like to live past tonight so I may meet him. I think that would make me happy.'
The girl beside her watched Saisei for a moment until the paler girl entered a limbo between life and death, her breath coming out in shallow bursts and the blood rushing from her arm slowing. The apparition put her hand to her chest and sighed, a strange expression coming over her face.
/Will he remember me?/