Note: So, this is a one shot to help me get over my writers block. Um, I probably won't ever write in this again. Rated mostly for language and implications. Um, guess that's it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Therapist

My gaze roamed around the room. Everything was in pastel. Why did everybody think that being trapped inside a giant Easter egg was cheerful? Even the therapist in front of me had brightly colored clothes on. Don't get me wrong, she looked good. It was one of those skirt suits that the magazines say you need to be in charge and still feminine. It was a pale, almost white, pink jacket over a vibrant lavender silk shirt, the skirt of course matched the jacket and fell to her stocking-clad knees. Her pointed shoes matched her shirt, as did much of the jewelry and makeup. I think she must have worn the shirt to bring out the color of her hazel eyes, and the jacket was to bring out the faint blush of color on her pale skin. Honestly she was almost as pale as I was, not quiet, but close. Her skin had the healthy undertone of pink, while mine was pure white, no undertones, just pale.

"Ryou? Can I ask how you're feeling?" she asked in sugared tones.

Is she really asking if she can ask you something? The thought wasn't mine, it was Bakura's. The reason I was here. Fucking therapy.

"I just want to go home," there was no emotion in my voice. Damnit I had worked on this. She made a face like I had hurt her feelings, like she actually gave a shit about me and not the pay check that would be walking through her door when my father came to pick me up.

"Aw, Ryou, you hurt my feelings. Don't you want to talk to me?" she asked, still with that fake pouting note in her voice. I shook my head.

No, you ignorant twat I want to kill you. My eyes slid to the side so I could look at the face of my darkness. He floated far less than solid at my shoulder. If he was the devil, where was my angel?

You are the angel, Ryou. My sweet hikari. Now please, get rid of this idiot so we can be alone. I shivered imperceptibly.

"How old do you think I am?" I asked of the honey voiced woman. She smiled, as if this were progress.

"Do you want to tell me? Or should I guess? Will you tell me when I'm getting close?" she asked me, as if this were a game. I nodded. Best to humor her.

"Are you…ten?" she asked. I pointed at the ceiling, 'up'. "Are you…eleven?"

"Way up." She grinned at me.

"Are you…thirteen?" As she went up I watched the disbelieve grow on her face. She smiled at me, pulling her lips inside her mouth and threw up her hands as if it were funny. "I give up. How old are you?"

"Sixteen." Her perfectly plucked blond eyebrows shot into her hairline. I wondered if she dyed her hair.

"Oh. Wow. You're, uh, really cute for your age, ya know?" she tried to joke it off. I smiled back at her, maybe if I acted normal I could get out of here and not have to come back.

"I think the word you're looking for is short. I'm really short for my age." I made my smile wider so she would think it didn't bother me. Honestly it didn't bother me. It bothered Bakura. Well, it used to anyway. Before he used to see me as a partner, now he saw me as…a…

Don't be like that, hikari, I'm fond of you, really. He assured me pressing one insubstantial hand to my back. I still felt it despite the fact that it wasn't there.

"Well, yeah. A bit. So your dad said you have an imaginary friend?" she asked, scribbling something on a big yellow legal pad. Probably saying it wasn't so normal, because of my age.

I laughed a bit, it sounded hollow around the edges, but nobody ever noticed that.

"No, I don't have an imaginary friend." 'He's real' "I'm kinda lonely, I just talk to myself sometimes," I crinkled my nose up. "I guess that's sort of crazy though, huh?" She smiled back at me and shook her head.

"Nah, I get lonely too sometimes. You wanna know something?" she asked, leaning towards me conspiratorially. "I talk to myself too sometimes." I grinned as if this meant something to me.

So this was the way it was going to be? Fake smiles and hollow laughs, my darkness standing behind me, already planning on how to molest me when we were safely in my room again? Fine. Normal, for me anyway. Just another day of trying to stay out of the loony bin.

My newest therapist sat back in her big wing backed chair. My father had been sending me to places like this for years. Since I was nine, and he had given me the Egyptian artifact that hung around my neck even now. It was held the spirit of my yami inside of it, and gave him the power to take over my body.

I wrapped my fingers around a tendril of my silken ivory hair and turned big brown eyes up at the woman. Honestly I couldn't even remember her name. I closed my eyes slowly so my long lashes lingered on my cheeks. I watched as she took in a breath. Yes, I knew what I was doing, if I managed to look innocent and pretty enough then she would think I was fine. Naïve, perhaps, but mentally healthy.

"I don't want him to worry about me, I suppose I should keep it down or something." She nodded, still a bit surprised. She eventually steered the conversation to my dead mother and sister, and talked about that for the rest of the session. I cried quietly for a while, then smiled a bit, and told her a few funny stories about when they were alive and our family was still just that. She deemed me healthy, and even assured my father that he had nothing to worry about. She told him he had 'a fine specimen of a son', told him I was the picture of health. He seemed to accept this.

Still when we were in the car he turned on the radio so we wouldn't have to talk. That was fine with me. I stared out the window. Bakura had been waiting till we got home, to my room, but he had lost his patience while my father and the therapist had been chatting. He pulled me into my soul room and started his assault on my body, cold hands running all over me.

"Can't this wait?" I questioned. His eyes narrowed, and I knew I was going down a bad road. Good.

"What was that, hikari?"

"I don't want you to touch me right now. With my father in the car. It's not decent." He growled and threw me against a wall. My back took most of the impact, but it still hurt.

"Decent? Don't try to tell me you don't love this, Ryou. Fag," he spat before walking towards the door. That was no good, this would only be a temporary reprieve, I wanted all night.

"Says the man who raped me," I called after him. It go the desired effect, he froze, turned slowly and shot a glare at me over his shoulder that made me second guess my decision.

"What was that, bitch?" he demanded. Well, I had started this, I may as well finish it.

"What the hell are you anyway? Some kind of demon, why can't anybody see you?" I asked. His eyes narrowed to crimson slits, silver brows, the same color as mine knit together.

Take it from me, it is highly disturbing to be raped by a man who looks like your taller, evil twin.

"Let's just say I'm a wandering spirit."

"What does that make you? Casper the Horny ghost?" The song with revised words crossed my mind before I could stop it. This was not the path I wanted to go down.

The hiss that emitted from between his gritted teeth made every cell in my body scream in terror.

"Wait till we get home. Just wait," he growled. He thrust me back into my body. I had a thick, sick feeling in my stomach. I had gotten what I wanted, not the way I wanted, but…

I had always preferred being beaten to being raped.

Please review, I like them 3