Cold.
That was all this jail cell held. Cold.
No warmth. No familiar touch to keep one sane. No hope.
No.
Only cold.
So Mariku slept to keep the cold away. Because when he slept, he could hold on to the life so distant from him now. To Malik. To whatever iota of sanity he somehow kept intact.
The only human contact he knew was with the cellmate. Bakura. He knew him once. Seven years ago. He had not seen his face since. He only saw darkness. This was what solitary confinement held.
He and Bakura would talk every day. Though they shared a cell neither could see, the dark was that absolute. But even without sight, speaking kept them from growing mad, gave them comfort.
Comfort. Mariku had never needed that. He never once thought he'd need the darkness to end. He needed the light. Right now his cellmate was the light. And at the same time the darkness.
They were both the darkness. That's why they were here.
Every prisoner in the cellblock knew about them. What they had done. There were rumors as to why they were kept in the same cell. Some claimed that the jail had run out of room. Others assumed that one had bribed the guards to let them be together. Still others made outlandish, completely ludicrous statements, of an arsonist guard burning the establishment to the ground, forgetting the key to only one cell, leaving the inhabitants to die in the flames.
This was the one Mariku hoped for most of all. It would be best for both Bakura and himself for them to die together. Because if one were to go before the other, whoever was left would quickly lose their mind. Death was so easy. So perfect. A jailbreak that was flawlessly foolproof.
But for now, there was only darkness.