I own a guinea pig who is currently trying to chew his way out of his cage. I don't own Yugioh.

It's cold. So, so cold.

My insides are frozen. My blood has turned to ice, my heart frosted over. It still beats, even though I wish it wouldn't.

Bakura is dead. Bakura has died. He's gone. Never coming back. We will never sleep in the same bed again. We will never eat together again. I won't be able to see him anymore. Never.

My heart thuds painfully, fighting against the ice surrounding it. Is this how Bakura felt when he was dying? Freezing from the inside out?

"You promised you'd help him." I whisper, my voice hard. I don't allow myself to cry. I don't deserve it.

This is my fault.

Mariku lets out a breath and runs his hands through his hair. "I did. I got him medicine. He seemed to be getting better…" He pauses to look out the boarded-up window. "There just wasn't anything I could do about it."

I'm silent. Bakura is dead. There's nothing to say.

"I'd been keeping him untied for a while now, he could hardly move anyway. I haven't been taking any jobs either, so I could stay home and take care of him. I went to the drug store and got medicine to treat him with. I held him whenever I could to keep him warm."

Mariku looks at me expectantly, but I don't say anything. He sighs and pushes his hand through his hair. He keeps going.

"I was holding him when we fell asleep last night, and he was still breathing then. But when I woke up, he was cold. I tried to find his pulse, but he was already gone. He died in my arms."

My fault. This is all my fault. My fault for not getting Bakura to safety, to freedom. My fault for coming up with the stupid plan in the first place. Who cares about freedom? We may have been stuck in here forever, but at least Bakura would still be alive.

Bakura is dead. My best friend is dead. And it's all my fault.

"I'm sorry. I really am. I know you two were close."

Mariku touches my shoulder. I don't react.

"Say something, Marik. Talk to me."

I killed my best friend. I killed Bakura.

"What are you going to do with the body?" I ask. My voice is completely devoid of emotion. Bakura isn't here anymore. Bakura is dead. All that's left is his shell. He's gone. Bakura is gone.

"Akefia and I are going to bury him later today. We'll put him by the pond. It's a nice place. Really pretty. He'd like it."

His voice breaks during his last sentence. He looks away, bringing his sleeve to his face. I watch.

"Don't do that." I say, and Mariku turns to me with a confused expression. "Let his family have his body back. Let them have the closure."

Mariku shakes his head. "No. The police will get it first. They'll do all sorts of tests on the body. They'll figure it out. I can't have that."

My hands make fists. I want to get up, scream, tear things from the walls. "But what about his dad and his brother? They don't know what happened to him. They deserve to know Bakura's dead."

"Marik, calm down-"

"Haven't you done enough to them? You took Bakura away from them, now you're fine with just letting them go on not knowing forever? Don't they deserve to know? Don't-"

Mariku cuts me off with a slap to the face. I'm on the floor. He's still hitting me, and my face is stinging. My throat hurts.

Then, as suddenly as he started, Mariku stops. He wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head.

Bakura's dead. Bakura's gone.

"It'll be nice. We'll plant flowers. It'll be a pretty spot."

I feel like I'm collapsing inwards.

"I want to see him. Let me out so I can watch."

"I can't do that, Marik." Mariku draws away, kissing me on the forehead. "You don't want to see him the way he is. He lost so much weight, and…you don't want to remember him like this."

I'm silent. There's nothing to say.

"I'll let you out in the springtime, we'll plant the flowers together. You, me, and Akefia. We'll even let you choose what to plant. Do you know what you want there?"

I think. Ishizu once told me that roses are supposed to symbolize love. I loved Bakura, loved him with all my heart. "Roses. White ones. To match his hair."

"Of course." He kisses me, on the nose this time. "Akefia is making the casket, he went to the store and got some nice wood for it. It's going to be pretty. I better go help him with it…"

Mariku gets up, muscles creaking. I get to my feet. "Wait."

I run over to the chest of drawers, opening the one that contains all of my possessions. I reach in and take out my golden armband. I look at it for a minute. I didn't always live with Mariku. I didn't always know Bakura. I once lived with my father, with my older brother and sister. I once had a different life than this. My armband is proof of that. It's all the proof I have.

I turn around. "Put this on Bakura. Bury him with it. Please."

Mariku looks confused for a minute, but then his face goes blank. "Of course. Of course I will." He bends down, pressing his lips to my forehead. "I love you, Marik. I love you so much. I'm so sorry this happened."

I don't answer. There's no point.

Thursday, December 2, 2004

Afternoon

I haven't gotten up. Not since Mariku left. Once he was out the door, I went back to bed. I pulled the covers over me and I lied there. I haven't moved. I listen to the television blare endlessly in the background. I push myself into a sitting position when the news comes on, but that's it.

It's funny, how nobody knows. People don't know about Bakura's death. If Mariku dumped his body, people would know. It would be all over the news.

But only three people know where he's buried. Two aren't telling, and I'm stuck in here. So the news is devoid of Bakura. That doesn't make him any less dead.

He's dead.

The door beeps and Mariku comes in. I don't move.

Mariku sits on the edge of my bed. My bed. Just mine now.

"Marik? How are you doing?"

I don't answer.

"Marik, I know this is hard for you, but you need to talk to me."

I'm silent. Silent as Bakura, who's dead.

"I think you'll feel better if you talk to me. You need to talk to someone. You can't just stare at the wall all day."

Why not? That's what Bakura had to go through. Left here, all by himself. Chained up, blindfolded. The last few years of Bakura's life were terrible. And I couldn't make it any better. I killed him instead.

"Have you eaten anything? I'm going to make you something to eat, okay?"

The bed creaks as he gets up. Mariku goes over to the fridge, taking some ingredients out.

Soon he sets a plate and glass on the table. He comes back over to me. One hand on my face, brushing my hair away. "I made you a turkey sandwich. It's on the table. Can you eat it for me?"

I don't answer. I just keep staring. Mariku sighs.

"Will you at least drink the juice for me? I put some medicine in it to help you. It'll make you feel better." He brings the glass over, pushing me up so I can sit. He presses the glass to my lips. I drink. It's good, but I can taste something other than orange juice in there.

"Good boy." Mariku takes the glass away. "Now can you get up and eat for me?"

I fall back down. Pull the covers up over my head.

"Dammit, Marik, I-" He stops himself. "It's okay. I'm going out now. I'm going to give you time. Just eat the sandwich."

He leaves.

Thursday, December 2, 2004

Night

Something's wrong.

I feel different. My head is all weird.

It's because of the medicine Mariku made me drink, I'm sure. He came back to check on me a little bit ago, saying that Bakura was buried. They couldn't bury him yesterday, because the ground was too frozen. They had to wait to dig the grave.

Bakura is buried.

He's in the ground.

All alone.

Mariku set a bottle on the counter. He said they're pills to make me feel better. He gave me one before he left. He told me I should take a pill when I wake up and one halfway through the day. He said it would help me cope with Bakura being dead and everything.

I don't like what the pills do to my brain. But they take away the empty feeling I have when I think about Bakura, so I agree to keep taking them.

Maybe if I keep taking these, I can forget about Bakura. Maybe I can forget he ever happened.

Friday, December 3, 2004

Evening

Do I even exist? What makes me real? My flesh, my bones? If that's my proof for being real, how do I know I'm not a figment of my imagination?

I must only exist when Mariku comes in to see me. Or is it Mariku who's not real? What if the interior of this shed is all that's in the universe? Then what is Mariku? Maybe he just comes into reality whenever he steps through the door.

Or maybe it really is me who doesn't exist. That must be it.

Did Bakura ever even live here? That seems like a ridiculous question, because I can remember. Remember his face, his voice, the way he moved. Remember his life. But if I don't exist, then he must not have either. Bakura might have been fake. Something my brain came up with, to cope with not existing.

What about Rishid, Ishizu, Father? I guess they exist, since they're outside, where Mariku lives and everything. Do they remember me even though I don't exist anymore? Was I ever there? I couldn't be, since I don't exist.

I want Mariku to come back. Maybe he'll convince me that I exist. I just need someone to talk to.

I keep seeing things. I'll be laying in my bed and I'll see the bathroom door opening out of the corner of my eye, and I'll jump up, thinking I'll see Bakura walk through.

But he isn't here. Bakura's dead.

I have a hard time trying to figure out what's actually happening inside the shed and what's not. Sometimes I feel like the entire place is on fire. Red blood drips down the walls. Ice coats the floor.

But it's not real. But maybe it is? I'm not real myself. Who am I to decide what else is real or imaginary?

Maybe none of this is real. Maybe the entire world was just dreamed up. What makes us real?

I don't like these pills. I don't take one. And then I remember.

The shed exists. It exists in the real world, it's only a little part of it. A tiny, insignificant part of it. Mariku is real, real enough to take me away from my family. I'm real. Bakura is real. Bakura was real.

I don't want this to be real.

Please don't be real.

Saturday, December 4, 2004

Morning

Dear Rishid and Ishizu-

Bakura's dead. It's my fault. It's all my fault.

I tried, I really tried to get away from him. I tried to get us both away. But I couldn't. I failed. And now Bakura's dead. And I'm never going to get out of here. I deserve it. I deserve to be left alone with Mariku.

Since I'm not ever getting out of here, I might as well tell you what Mariku does to us.

Bakura called it rape once. He said that's what you call it when someone has sex with you and you don't want it.

I don't know how many times Mariku has had sex with me, I've lost count. He's had sex with Bakura a lot more. He hurt Bakura when they had sex, Bakura always had bruises and cuts from what Mariku did to him. He would always tie Bakura up, even though Bakura just lied there. He took Bakura away from his home when he was seven years old just so they could have sex. I don't understand why sex makes him so crazy.

Bakura is dead now, so I guess maybe Mariku will be doing these things to me now. I don't really know. I don't care. He can do whatever he wants with me.

He hasn't done anything like that to me yet. He just has me lay down and fucks me. Hard. It hurts, but it's not too bad. Not as bad as Bakura. He made me suck on his penis once, before Bakura was dead and I was trying to get Mariku to help him. It was really gross. But I did it for Bakura. I didn't do it for Mariku.

I want people to know. I want people to know there was a Bakura Florence Touzoku, and he lived to be twelve years old. He liked drawing and watching horror movies, and I loved him. He was my best friend. He is my best friend. Forever. I love you, Bakura.

-Marik

Saturday, December 4, 2004

Night

I'm staring at the fridge, thinking I should probably at least make it look like I'm eating so Mariku doesn't get mad. And then I see it.

Vegetable oil.

The bottle brings back bad memories, both because they involve Bakura and because of what Bakura tried to do.

Bakura. I want to see Bakura again.

I don't think as I pour the contents of the oil over the floor. All I think about is Bakura. Bakura is dead. Bakura has gone away, to the afterlife. Heaven. I don't know.

I want to see him again. To do that, I'll have to go to him.

There's only one way to do that, and it doesn't come with a way back. That's okay, though. I don't need to come back. I'll have Bakura. He's all I'll ever need.

I'm going to see Bakura again.

I didn't get it when I woke up and found Bakura with the knife. I didn't want to get it. But now I get it.

There's only one way out.

I go take the blanket Bakura made and wrap myself in it. It'll burn. It'll help me burn. Burn away the chains that keep me here, with Mariku. Let me fly. I will fly away with Bakura.

I sit down on the floor, the oil soaking into my sweatpants. I realize that I'm going to have to start the fire in some way. I get up again.

The stove was Bakura's choice. It'll be easy, just turn it on and instant fire. I reach for the dial. I turn it. The stove comes alight.

Now I just need it to spread. I grab a handful of our blanket in my fist and raise my hand.

Burnburnburnburnburn-

I'm burned.

I snatch my hand away.

Ow. Ow.

Rishid told me to always put cold water on a burn immediately. I rush over to the sink and turn the cold tap on, thrusting my hand under the cold stream.

Rishid. Rishid. I can't kill myself. I can't die. What would that do to Rishid? It would kill him. It would honestly kill him.

I shed the blanket, and I turn the burner off.

I find a small tube of burn ointment in the bathroom, and I spread a thin layer over my burn. It's not bad. It hurts, but all burns do.

I take towels out, all my clothes. (Not Bakura's, I leave everything that's his alone.) I spread them all over the liquid, soaking it up. I toss the oily, gross stuff in the laundry basket. I'll take care of it tomorrow.

Bakura's blanket is back in my hands. I drag myself over to the bed. I collapse on it, wrapping myself in the fabric. I put my nose into a fold and inhale. I can't smell Bakura anymore. Bakura's gone. I can't reach him.

I can't die. I'm trapped here. Without Bakura.

I bury my face in the pillow and let the tears flow.

Sunday, December 5, 2004

Night

Mariku hasn't been in today. It's weird. Since Bakura died, he's been in twice a day.

I don't know how Mariku feels about Bakura dying. He seemed upset when he first told me, but he's hardly mentioned him since.

He said Akefia was sad about it. Just sad. He didn't regret anything. He didn't regret kidnapping Bakura in the first place, bringing him here. Didn't regret raping him over and over and over again. Didn't regret bringing him back to Mariku's and leaving him to waste away. He was just sad he died.

At least they made Bakura a coffin. Even if it was probably just a box Akefia nailed together. They could have just stuffed his body in a trash bag and buried it. I guess that shows that they loved Bakura, at least a little bit.

But if they really loved Bakura, wouldn't they have let him go? Or at least gotten him real help?

Beep beep. Mariku's coming in. I look over, bracing myself.

The door swings open, Mariku standing in the snow. He's holding a small paper bag in his right hand, and draped over his left arm-

No.

A small, skinny person. With snowy white hair.

Mariku throws the bag onto the counter. He shoves the body forward, onto the floor before giving me a long, stern look and turning around, going back out the door. Beep beep.

I run over. My hands in his unique white hair. Fingertips touching his pale, pale skin.

Bakura groans.

I cry.

Sunday, December 5, 2004

Later Night

Bakura is in bed, but he isn't asleep. He seems weak, but not tired. I'm just happy he's here. I don't care that he isn't talking.

After I was done crying and hugging him, I filled the bathtub up with hot water and put him in. I practically had to carry him over to the bathroom, he's so weak. I stripped him and eased him into the hot water, trying not to wince at his prominent skeleton.

Bakura eyes immediately slipped closed once he was in the water. I stayed right by his side, kneeling on the floor and holding his hand. I wanted to cry again, but for a different reason. Bakura's body was covered-completely covered-with marks. Bruises, cuts, burns. Most had healed partially, but a few were obviously new. And it made my stomach boil, to know that Mariku had been hurting him even when he was so sick and weak.

I drained the tub when the water started turning cold. I had to keep Bakura warm.

I left Bakura in the steamy bathroom, wrapped up in freshly washed towels, and ran out into the main room. I turned our space heater (Mariku never did get us a new one) up high and grabbed Bakura's favorite pajama bottoms, a pair of his underwear, my warmest sweatshirt, and a pair of thick socks. I dried Bakura's hair and helped him into his clothes. Now he's laying in bed, eyes closed. Shivering.

I turn the oven on, hoping that it'll help warm the place up. I'm starting to sweat, but that doesn't matter. Bakura needs to be warm.

Mariku left a note on the paper bag. I run over and pick it up, tape peeling off the bag. Mariku has written out instructions for giving Bakura medicine. I open the bag. Pills. I check the note again. Mariku has already given Bakura his night medication, so I don't have to start counting out pills until the morning.

"Can you eat something?" I ask Bakura. He cracks open his eyes and lifts his head, shaking it no. I put the bag down. I should probably be hungry right now, but I'm too happy to feel hungry.

I go back over to the bed and slip myself in. Bakura has closed his eyes again and appears to be sleeping. I wrap my arms around him and hold him close.

"He told me you were dead."

Bakura's silent, then his arms come around my neck.

I wet my lips and continue. "He said you died in your sleep and he buried you by the pond. He said Akefia made your coffin."

Bakura's eyes are still closed, but his mouth moves. "Bollocks…"

I can't help but laugh. I press my lips to his forehead and hold him tighter. A tear slips down my cheek. "I'm sorry. It's my fault you're so sick. It's my fault you were punished like that."

Bakura stirs, eyes opening. "No…"

My hold on his waist tightens. I don't want him to overexert himself. I press our foreheads together, wanting to be closer to him. It's not close enough. "What did he do to you?" I whisper.

Bakura's eyes turn down, away from mine. "He-he tied me up, tied me to his headboard. He kept fu-fucking me…" He breathes. "e-even though I told him I couldn't breathe. He kept hitting me with a bunch of things, and he took c-candles and lighters and burned me with them…he stuck needles into my skin a bunch of different times. He took p-pictures of it all…" He stops, wheezing a bit.

I'm filled with this burning rage, this hatred for Mariku. How could he do these things, things that hurt Bakura so much? Especially when he was so sick?

But I know my anger is misplaced. It's my fault Bakura was punished like this. It was my dumb plan to escape that made Mariku do it. I might as well have pushed those pins into Bakura's skin myself.

"He mostly stopped it when I got really sick…" Bakura continues. "When my uncle came in to look at me and told Mariku I was going to die, he stopped doing it. He's h-hit me a few times, just when he's gotten mad because I couldn't respond…"

"He told me he got you medicine and was staying home to take care of you."

Bakura nods. "Y-yeah. He kept me in his lap, kept the blankets around me…it was kind of nice. Except, I was, yo-you know. Dying." He tries to crack a smile, and I laugh.

Bakura closes his eyes, and I think he's falling asleep. Good. He needs the rest.

I kiss his forehead again. "I love you so much, Bakura."

He mumbles something back. I gather the blankets around us, hoping that I can keep him warm tonight. At least he's stopped shivering.

With Bakura in my arms, I'm the happiest I've been since Mariku kidnapped me. I'm not alone. I have my best friend, I have Bakura. As long as we have each other, we can survive here.

I've learned my lesson. I don't ever want Bakura taken from me again. We can't leave. We can't see our families again. Ever.

Rishid, Ishizu…I'll never see them again. Not unless Mariku lets me see them, which I doubt he'll do. They'll never know what happened to me. Bakura's family, his father and brother will never know what happened to him either.

But that's okay. That's going to have to be okay. I can't try to get us out again. The stakes are too high. We'll get hurt. Too hurt. I can't compromise Bakura's safety, my brother's and sister's safety. We're just going to have to survive.

At least Mariku gave me back Bakura. At least I can hold him now. I have something to be grateful for.

So some of you fell for my tricks. Some of you saw right through me and knew Bakura wasn't really dead. I can't tell if I'm at fault for bad writing, or I just have super special awesome readers.

Writing the scenes with Mariku was confusing for me, because he's so damn…loving about it all. I tried to write it with Mariku telling himself that Bakura was really dead, so he would be able to successfully fool Marik. Mariku does really believe he 'loves' Bakura, and would be devastated if Bakura did die. He has extreme bipolar disorder, as well as a bunch of other wonderful mental diseases that we will be exploring soon.

And I couldn't resist…I had to give Bakura the middle name Florence. I originally put in Akefia, I figured he could be named after his uncle, but then that name occurred to me and I couldn't refuse.

So this is short, sorry…I've been sick. I don't know with what, but it wasn't very fun…I was having stomach issues for a few days, and then I had show choir practice a few days ago. Four hours of nonstop dancing, sharp pains in my stomach. Very fun. My choir teacher took pity on me and let me dance without my 3-inch heels, so that was nice. But I took the next day off. And I skipped school today as well, to leave early for a road trip. Fun week. (I only went to school on the days I had show choir…)

But I'm better now! I'm just stuck in the backseat of a van next to a crazy guinea pig, with my grandmother, Evil Stepsister, half-brother, and my father. (This is not everyone in my family…) I also don't have wifi, so we're going to try to steal some wifi so I can post this. This will be interesting…

-Chinny (My family is the Japanese version of the Weasleys.)