The door to Bakura's bedroom slams shut behind him. He locks it and falls onto the bed, covering his face with his hands. His cheeks are sticky from crying.
"Oh, don't be such a baby. Kaiba did have a point, you know. It was only a card." The spirit manifests across the room, leaning against the wall.
"Shut up." Bakura wipes his eyes with his fingers. His heart is throbbing with pain. He stands slowly, his movements mechanical. He didn't imagine he would be doing this again, not after Kaiba saved his life and took him home.
"What do you think you're doing?" The spirits eyes narrow and he pushes himself off the wall as Bakura kneels, slipping his hand into his schoolbag, removing the razorblade. He watches it glint in the light.
"Put that down. Now!" The spirit hisses, standing in front of Bakura, who simply shakes his head and sits on the edge of the bed. His eyes are closed as he rolls up his sleeves and the edge of the blade comes to a rest, pressing against the flesh of his wrist. He slides it across and lets out a small whimper, bright red beads of blood forming on the open wound.
"Bakura! You fool!" The spirit is seething. Bakura is thankful he isn't in a physical form. He cuts again, opens his eyes, watching as identical wounds appear on the flesh of his Yami. He pulls up his shirt, cutting into the blemish free flesh above his ribs. The stinging of the physical pain is slowly making him forget about the burning in his heart.
Bakura slides down his pants and begins to dig the edge of the blade into the meaty flesh of his thigh, sliding it agonizingly slowly across the skin.
"A-ahhh..." Bakura pants, his eyes fluttering slightly.
"Stop this now or I will tell Kaiba." The spirit demands. Bakura looks up, sees the blood staining his white shirt and blue jeans.
"Go ahead, see if I care."
The spirit growls and turns, running a hand through his hair. Bakura cuts until he begins to feel light headed, all emotional pain temporarily numbed. He sighs and falls back onto the bed, his arms spread at his sides, and falls into a light slumber. He sleeps throughout the rest of the day and night, relieved of his agony for a short time.
Bakura's eyes flutter open, the early morning sunlight painting the room with bright pink's and orange's. He yawns and rolls onto his stomach, hugging the pillow. He sighs, wishing it was someone he could hold. Knowing he can't avoid Kaiba forever, he gets out of bed and splashes water on his face before changing into a black t shirt and black denim jeans. He eyes the black hoodie on the folded pile of clothing and slips it over his head, inhaling the extremely faint scent of Kaiba. He takes a deep breath and heads downstairs, the house quiet.
Sitting on the front steps, Bakura pulls his knees up to his chest and watches the sun rise for the next twenty two minutes, the sky changing from pink to orange to blue. Ever since he was burdened with the presence of the spirit, he'd lost joy for most things in life. Watching the sunrise was something he used to do every morning before school. Now he stared at the beautiful colors with a numb indifference.
"Good morning sir."
Bakura raises his head as the limousine driver approaches, giving him a small bow. Bakura smiles back at the man and watches him prepare the limo for the drive to school.
"Will you be riding with us again today?"
Bakura shook his head.
"I think I'll be walking today. But thank you anyways." He stands and begins walking down the long driveway. He has plenty of time to get to school, even at a leisurely pace. He knew he was still going out of his way to avoid Kaiba, but his heart still throbbed at the thought of the brunet. He was being melodramatic, and he knew it, but there was no reason why he couldn't have some alone time.
Halfway through his walk, Bakura noticed a familiar Raven haired boy approaching him. He stops and allows him to catch up.
"Hey, Bakura! I didn't know you walked to school," Duke shoves his hands in his pockets and walks beside Bakura.
"Only sometimes."
"Well I'm glad I caught up to ya. How are things, by the way?"
"Things are okay."
The rest of the walk is in silence. Bakura doesn't say it, but it's nice to be in the company of a friend. They make it to school as the first bell is ringing and share a chaste hug before going their separate ways to class. Bakura takes his time, knowing he still has another five minutes before the classroom door is locked. He stares at the floor, noticing each and every speck of dust or crack in the tile. Sadly his first class of the day would be science, which meant sitting next to Seto in an awkward silence. Perhaps he could just skip. His attendance was shit these days anyways, and he wasn't in the mood to listen to the Mr. Kakuto drone on and on about the phases of chemicals. He walks by the class and straight outside, heading to his place under the willow tree. The light winds blows the leaves, making them sway back and forth.
Suddenly he is grabbed from behind and lifted to his feet. Before he has time to react a piece of cloth was forced between his teeth and tied at the back of his head. He struggles uselessly, letting out moans of protest as Misha walked into view.
"Today must be my lucky day. You're all alone, with no one to save you this time."
Bakura looked around frantically, but no one was in sight other than Misha's goons.
"Let's go for a little walk, shall we?" The two boys grabbed Bakura and forced him to walk behind Misha, who was all but skipping as they left the school property. Bakura cursed himself internally. He should have just fucking gone to class. If he had, he wouldn't be in such a mess…
"You know, that older brother of yours gave us quite a scare. He's what, in his mid-twenties?" Misha asked rhetorically, tilting his head back, "but he's not here now. So we can get away with doing anything to you."
Bakura shivers. The last thing he needed was for the older boy to try and rape him again. They headed down a sketchy backroad, one no one would be likely to stumble upon them. Bakura lets out a muffled cry as Misha shoves him hard against a brick wall.
"As much as I don't want to mess up your pretty face, you've had this a long time coming."
The older boy twisted his fingers in Bakura's shirt and punched him in the jaw. He let out a pained whimper and slumped, but was pushed back up against the wall and hit again. He shut his eyes tightly, the metallic taste of blood beginning to fill his mouth. Sharp bursts of pain exploded in his knee as Misha kicked it hard, causing Bakura to buckle and fall to the ground.
"What's the matter? Don't like pain? Well that doesn't add up at all. Last time I checked, you were fond of it!" Bakura screams as the older boy grabs his forearm hard and twists the skin. The cuts on his forearms are opened, allowing more crimson to slip out. His eyes flutter and his head tilts back. The scenario reminded him of the spirit, what he'd do in his worst moments. The cold punishment. But at least the spirits presence was a welcome one.
"Calling it quits already? I don't think so. The fun has barely started!"
Misha lets out an insane cackle, the noise reverberating in Bakura's head. He tries to raise his hands to cover his ears but both arms are pinned by Misha's followers. There was no one to save him this time, from the pain and shame and agony. No one to save him from himself. He shuts his eyes, tears sliding down his cheeks and wetting his snow white hair. Why him? It wasn't fair.
"Aw, how cute. He's crying." The boys chuckled to themselves. The metallic click of a knife being opened had Bakura's eyes snapping open. Misha sat on his waist and smirked down at him, playing with the blade thoughtfully.
"I'll do you a nicety. You can choose where I cut you. Okay?" He caught the knife under the cloth in Bakura's mouth and cut it free.
"Let me go!" Bakura cries out, kicking his legs uselessly.
"Was that what I asked you?" Bakura's head snaps to the side as Misha backhands him.
"Go to hell!" Bakura cries pathetically, turning his head and focusing his gaze on the weeds growing along the ground.
"I see how it is. Fine." Bakura lets out a pained cry as Misha quickly slashes the blade over his stomach. It cut through the fabric of his shirt and left a long, angry cut that quickly welled up with blood and pooled over. He repeated the motion several times, on his legs, his arms; anywhere he could get access to.
"Ah-h-h fuck!" Bakura shook from the pain and adrenaline. He didn't know how much more of this he could take.
"Shh. It's almost over." Misha cooed, his eyes burning with hatred. Bakura's lips parted and he let out a whimper as the older boy raised the knife again but was stopped by one of his goons.
"Hey, we should get going before someone finds out."
Misha let out an exasperated sigh.
"Fine. But you guys are buying me a burger. Let's go."
Bakura was released and the boys ran off, leaving him lying on the cold ground. His eyes fluttered weakly as he resided somewhere between conscious and unconscious. His wounds ached and stung, and his head throbbed with a worsening headache. He couldn't move, nor did he want to. He let his eyes fall shut and oblivion embraced him.
Bakura was awoken by several raindrops hitting his face. The sky had become overcast and the day had begun to fade into night. He pushes himself to his feet using the wall for support, moaning in pain. His bones ached with every movement. He staggered slowly, a limp in his step from his injured leg as he began walking towards the main street.
Bakura looked around, unfamiliar with his surroundings. He could barely think straight, and had no idea what part of town he was in. He didn't think he was too far from the school, but it didn't matter because no one would be there anyways.
Should I call Kaiba?
Bakura frowned. It wasn't Kaiba's responsibility to look out for him, nor take care of him. It felt like he was becoming a burden to the brunet man. He wiped tears from his eyes. He couldn't let Kaiba see him like this. He had to prove he wasn't completely useless. His phone was at the mansion anyways. He decided to return to his own home once he got his sense of direction back.
By the time he made it home, he was completely drenched from the rain. His clothes were plastered to his skin and his bangs hung in his face. He was far too hurt and exhausted to bother with them, instead falling onto the bed and falling unconscious.