It had been a few hours since the thief had last laid hands on him. Or maybe less. Time ran so sluggishly, but the priest was thankful for every respite he got from his wicked torturer. He involuntarily let out a moan from the wounds throbbing all over his body, most recently from cuts he had received on his face. A drop of blood rolled off his chin and splattered against his bruised chest.
Mahaad had lost track of how many days since his freedom had been taken away by Bakura. More than two score days the priest managed to take his abuse. How much more though, he wasn't sure. He closed his eyes for a moment as he breathed out slowly.
When he opened them, he looked straight ahead into the mirror the thief had cruelly hung against the wall. He could barely recognize the strange face sadistically reflected to him through all the bloodied gashes and burn marks. He could only take in the awful sight for a moment before dropping his gaze.
"How pathetic I am, unable to even look at myself," he said in a strangled sob, voice cracking.
He struggled against the chains holding him against the stone wall for perhaps the thousandth time, though his efforts were fruitless as always. His arms and legs burned, rubbed raw as they were from his efforts to rid himself of his bonds.
"At least I saved Atem from whatever fate he would have suffered at that thief's hand. That's the only halfway decent thing to come out of this blasted situation."
Grimacing, the he let out a slow pain-ridden sigh. The priest let his eyes wander the small room, purposefully avoiding the mirror, trying to occupy his thoughts with ones that were not full of self-berating.
It was all a ritual by now, a constant cycle. The attempt at distractedness, the self-hatred, repeated in his small cell, day by day, hour by hour. Well, it was better than Bakura's actual torture. Anything was better than that. Nothing was worse than the icy sharpness of a clean cut across his arm, the crack of a whip moments before it flayed the skin off his back, and that grating laughter...
He stopped himself. No reason to concentrate on that and make things worse. The throbbing aches were enough to make his life difficult already. He forced the painful memories out of his mind.
"At least I'm still alive and my pharaoh is safe. That's what really matters."
The priest glanced down at his stomach as an onslaught of pangs reminded him just how hungry he was. This on top of everything else. Great.
"Forget about it," he told himself. There was no reason to torment himself further, it was time to try to rest his mind while he could. He shut his eyes, trying to block out the pain.