Things continue to get stranger and more twisted. How deep does the darkness lie? Only time knows for sure.

Yu-Gi-Oh! and all related characters belong to Kazuki Takahashi

"One need not be a chamber to be haunted; one need not be a house; the brain has corridors surpassing material place."

-Emily Dickinson, "Time and Eternity"

Chapter 3: Beyond Closed Doors

Marik laid there on the cold, tiled floor, starring at the door for hours. His eyes and cheeks were red, his mind and body numb. He seldom blinked, feeling like even that was a wasted effort. A small section of hair fell in front of his eyes, lightly brushing his nose, but that too, did little to rouse him from the trance-like state that Marik found himself drifting in and out of. He breathed in, feeling the air fill his lungs, and he held it there, wondering if it would be better if he stopped breathing. Dr. Bakura obviously wasn't worried about him. Not after he'd hurt Ryou like that. But why had he? He had passed out again…at least he thought he had been. How could he have moved without being awake? And why go after Ryou? He wasn't the long dead king who kept haunting his nightmares…so then why?

A shadow passed by the window on the door and caught his attention. Marik managed to maneuver himself into a sitting position and he watched the door again. For a few moments nothing happened, but then the shadow passed by again, this time, stopping. There was a soft click at the door before it walked away. The door slowly creaked open, a streak of light spilling across the floor towards him. His heart leapt, and he struggled to his feet, slowly closing the distance between him and the now open door. Marik hesitated briefly, before throwing his body against the door. It swung open the rest of the way, and the force of his push made him momentarily lose his footing. His knees hit the floor, and he let off a grunt from the impact.

Marik blinked as the light fixture above him flickered. He glanced up in time to see it go out; the rest of the lights in the hallway following suit. He bit his tongue to keep from crying out. He'd never been fond of the dark before; he'd always had a problem with moving shadows along his bedroom walls at night. Now he could see nothing at all, the dark almost palpable around him.

He heard breathing in his ear, and his back stiffened in response, "Don't worry, Marik," a voice purred to him, "I'm just letting you out like you wanted."

Marik said nothing to the voice as it spoke to him. It wasn't really there. It couldn't really be there. Just like before. His breath caught in surprise when he felt the jacket on him loosen and fall off his shoulders. The boy thought about saying thank you to this stranger; wondered if it was a good idea to talk to this weird person.

"There's no need to thank me, Marik. I'm only looking out for you like I always do …" the voice chuckled in his ear before Marik felt the presence dissipate.

As the chuckles faded back into the abyss, the lights flickered back on. But something was wrong; horribly so. The lights that had come back on barely lit the entirety of the hall. Some were hanging down by their wiring, and one or two seemed to spark a bit. A dank scent, like mold and urine, filled the hallway that no longer resembled one. The plaster walls had been covered up in clear plastic tarps that were stained black and brown in places. The ceiling seemed to have collapsed in a few spots, leaving debris and dust to coat the floor in a fine layer of grime. His stomach twisted tightly into a knot and he felt his hands covering his mouth in reflex.

What's happened to this place?

The door leading out of the seclusion ward and into the hospital proper was missing, but past the doorway didn't look any better than where he was now. Swallowing hard, Marik took a few steps forward to the threshold and looked down the hall. He called out into the dark, hoping someone would respond and tell him what was going on. Silence; no one else seemed to be around. Where had all the patients and doctors gone? Hassan, Ryou…were they alright? Were they still in the building somewhere, perhaps trapped under debris? Then Marik remembered how Hassan had remained silent when he had pleaded to not go back into the seclusion ward. He didn't speak up, didn't let him apologize for what he'd done to Ryou.

Something moved further down the hallway that caught his attention. There seemed to be someone looking at him from the end of the corridor, but with the lights so dim, Marik couldn't make the details out. Whoever it was seemed to be about the same height as he was. Curious, Marik moved a little closer; his eyes squinting to see more clearly. The other person gestured with their hand to keep moving forward, and Marik did so wondering if they perhaps knew what was going on. When he had made some progress down the dilapidated hallway, the other person took off running. He blinked, confused for a moment, before giving chase.

"Hey! Wait up!"

Though they looked back on occasion, the other person refused to slow down. Marik wasn't even sure how they were going so fast. There were chairs and gurneys lying around in the hall, making it difficult to get anywhere without climbing over or ducking under things. The other person seemed to be just phasing right through the furniture; almost like he wasn't really there.

Almost like a ghost.

On and on he chased the shadow, through at least two doorways and past several misplaced beds. He rounded a corner of one of the hallways and saw the other person disappear through a still intact door. Heart pounding, Marik ran to it as quickly as he could, forcing the door open with as much effort as he could muster. Marik blinked a bit, trying to adjust to the slightly better lit room, noting that the light was coming from a partially collapsed roof. There appeared to be some lights still working on the second floor. Or perhaps it was from a sunroof. Glancing around, Marik noticed a familiar door to his right. It was marked: Day Room. He must be near Doctor Bakura's office. Maybe he was in there with some answers. Making his way into the center of the room, cautiously stepping over bits of rotten ceiling and scattered piles of trash, Marik finally made far enough into the center of the room where he could see the hall that led to the Doctor's office. He was about to continue his venture to it when he noticed the same shadow sitting near the end of the small hall. He was in front of a large, rusted metal door that, despite its age, looked very sturdy. There was a faded sign above it that read: Patients Belongings.

Frozen, Marik stared at it for a few moments longer, waiting to see if it would move. When it didn't, he took a few more steps before the shadow figure called out to him, "So you're finally here. I thought for sure you'd given up," it seemed to laugh.

"What are you talking about?" Marik frowned, taking another step before coming to a halt a few feet from it.

"Given up on the truth…"

"Truth? What truth? That this place is insane?"

"No…that you are; that we are," it seemed to smirk.

"We? What do you mean 'we'? There's only one me. Who are you?"

"The one that guards the door," it put simply.

"And…what is behind the door?"

"I told you; the truth."

Marik felt his anger flaring. This person, this thing, wasn't giving him any straight answers. Maybe he needed to try a different approach? He took a few more steps closer, "Look, I don't really care what's behind that stupid door, I'm trying to figure out what's going-" the floor suddenly gave out from under his feet just short of a few steps from the shadow figure.

Marik screamed at the sudden drop, but managed to grab hold of the edge of the opening trying to swallow him up. He glanced down, but saw only darkness stretching out below him. Panicking, Marik tried to pull himself up and out, but his body felt like a lead weight dragging him down. The shadow person approached the hole in the floor and looked down at him. Marik returned its glance, getting a slightly better view of it as the shadow stepped into a small shaft of light: a boy about his height and age, shaggy blond hair sticking out at odd angles, and blood stained clothes and skin. Tan skin. The boy from that dream…the one who looks like me…

The other boy looked down at him, frowning in disappointment, "I guess you're not ready yet…" he mused aloud before stomping down on Marik's hands.

The pain caused his grip to slacken, and he felt his hands slip free from the wood. Down he tumbled into the darkness, his screams echoing off the nonexistent walls until they became an undefinable mess of sounds that deafened him. Dragging the fall on into what seemed hours, until he finally collided with the ground. The air in his lungs momentarily left him, and he lay there on his back, gasping; unable to see anything above him. As he began to catch his breath, Marik maneuvered himself into an upward position and glanced around. He seemed to still be in the hospital; at least, he assumed he was. It appeared to be some sort of hallway, the walls and floor made of cold, gray cement. Hard water stains and rust ran down from the pipes running along the ceiling. A set of double doors stood at the end of the hall in front of him, a faint light filtering in between the cracks; a way out?

Marik dared to hope it was and made his way over to the door, wincing a bit from a bruising side. He put a hand up to the door and frowned when it felt, oddly, very warm. Looking around the door in the dim light yielded what appeared to be another sign. Marik squinted, attempting to make out the letters on the worn and rusted sign plate, but he was only able to read a few letters. Seeing nowhere else to go, Marik gave the doors a push inwards. A wall of hot air and steam blasted him in the face when he did so. A low mechanical hum echoed through the room as he took a few steps past the threshold. Large, drum-shaped objects lined the center of the room. Pipes stretched out from them and into the ceiling and floor, hissing as the hot air traveling through them expanded and contracted the metal.

Marik's throat felt dry as he swallowed and continued into the room. His feet made a soft clacking on the floor as he went, making the space feel even more cavernous. He wondered how far back the room went and wondered if there might be a way back upstairs somewhere; a hidden staircase or ladder, perhaps? But as Marik took another step towards the far end of the room, he heard what sounded like running somewhere behind him. He spun around, but by the time he had, the person was gone. A prickle of fear crept through him as Marik slowly scanned for any sign of the room's other occupant.

A whisper of hot breath made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, "Hello Marik…" hissed a voice. Before he had time to react, he felt the sharp edge of a blade press against his throat. Marik's breath hitched, and he dared not move a muscle in response. The voice continued, "I don't appreciate what you did earlier…"

That voice sound familiar; angrier and little more harsh, but familiar none the less. Timidly, he responded, "A-Atem?"

Atem pressed the blade a little harder to his throat, "I just don't understand you Marik. I've shown you so much love and kindness, and yet you repay me with this ungrateful attitude. Why?"

"I..I was…" Marik bit his lip nervously, words refusing to exit his mouth for fear that blade would be driven into him.

When he didn't answer, Marik felt Atem's hand grab a fistful of his hair tightly, making him cry out, "You were what?" The king asked.

"I…what you did was gross! I didn't like it! I just…"

Atem's grip on his hair tightened even more, "It seems, Marik, that I've been entirely too generous with you," he spoke quietly, his hand releasing itself from his hair, "You've become spoiled of my generosity…" Atem's hand slid down along Marik's shoulder, lightly caressing his side as it traveled lower, "Perhaps it's time I…discipline you?" The king growled in his ear, the wandering hand coming to rest on Marik's hip, giving it a firm squeeze.

Marik reacted on reflex, and jerked himself backwards. His head crashed into Atem's, and the sudden force caused the other Egyptian to stumble, dropping his weapon in the process. Heart pounding, Marik took the chance and sprinted away as fast as he could. He had to get back to the door? But where was it? He hadn't gone that far into the room to lose track of it. At least, he didn't recall having gone very far into the room.

"Marik!" Atem's voice thundered after him, his footfalls following after the young boy.

Daring a glance back to check the distance between them, he didn't see what lay before him. A second later, Marik felt himself smack headlong into a wall. With a grunt, the boy fell backwards onto the floor. He looked up at the wall and recognized it as the area he had come in. But there was no door. It had simply vanished. Panic began to set in as he scrambled back to his feet, running his hands quickly over the smooth concrete of the wall in a vain attempt to make the door reappear. Or find some sort of switch. Oh gods, why did he decide to come into this room?

Atem's footsteps were getting closer to him. Hesitantly, Marik glanced over his shoulder to see just how close. The other was about few feet or so from him. But what was standing there hardly resembled the Atem he had encountered before. His clothes were worn and stained; shredded in a few places as well. As he continued to move closer, Marik was able to see his face a bit better. His eyes had become a bright, crimson red. The corners of his mouth split wide across his face as he bore his very sharp, very painful looking teeth at the child. Marik turned away from him again and began touching the wall once more; looking for something, anything that would let him out. The knowledge that the king, no, that monster, was looming ever closer.

Tears began to pour out the corners of his eyes as that thought weighed heavily on his mind. With still no escape in sight, Marik found himself remembering an old prayer song his sister had taught him when he started fearing the dark of his bedroom. With little left to do, the words began to fall from his trembling lips, "Free of nightmares, free of terrors…guard my dreams m-mighty Bes. Safe from muuet, safe from A-Apep …guard my sleep, mighty Bes…"

Marik felt as if Atem was right behind him now, having completely closed the distance between them. Still he continued to sing, his voice beginning to crack from fright, "Scorpions and serpents fear you…guard my bed, mighty Bes! Stand your watch the whole night through at my head, mighty Bes!"

A hand grabbed hold of his shoulder, the fingers digging painfully into his flesh. Hesitating, Marik slowly looked back at Atem. The skin on his forehead opened up like a mouth, and a third, piercing red eye stared back at him. His stomach lurched and he forced himself to look away, clamping his eyes tightly shut. A second hand found its way around to his front. The claw like fingers crawling their way underneath his shirt as he choked out the last verse through horrified sobs, "I shall fear no d-dream…nor danger with you there…m-mighty Bes…"

"Marik? Marik, wake up."

Marik slowly opened his eyes at the familiar voice. His vision was bleary at first, but slowly the image of Doctor Bakura began to come into focus. His face was wrought with concern, "Have you been sleeping on the floor all night?"

The boy didn't answer. Instead, his eyes shifted slowly around the room, almost as if he wasn't sure where he was or how he'd gotten there, "Do you remember what happened Marik? Why I had you restrained?"

Restrained? Marik made to move his arms, but found them to be slightly numb and unmovable within the confines of the jacket he was wearing. That he had been wearing. Until that kid let him out…or had that been another dream? Was he still dreaming now? His mind still felt foggy; like he had been up all night. But Hassan had said he'd been asleep, right? Or had he simply been awake the whole time and had just now fallen asleep? He couldn't be sure, and the thought frightened him. He wanted out of this jacket, out of this place. Marik began squirming in an attempt to loosen the buckles on the jacket, screaming and shouting a bit.

"Marik! Marik, that's enough!"

Marik didn't listen to him until he felt himself becoming tired from his efforts. He was soon out of breath, and lay there mostly still once more. He heard the doctor sigh, "Ryou's alright, in case you were wondering. He had some mild bruising, but he'll live."

Marik looked up at him, relief briefly flashing in his eyes before they returned to looking annoyed. Hassan frowned at him, "I'd like you to apologize to him. What you did was uncalled for, and I'm going to have the two of you sit down to talk about this. But first I'd like to know why you attacked him."

"I don't know…" Marik growled bitterly through his teeth.

"What was that?"

"I said I don't know why! I don't even remember doing that to him!"

"Why did you tell him to go to hell?"

"What?! I would never say that…"

"Then why did you?"

"I didn't!"

"Marik…"

"Why don't you believe me when I'm telling the truth, huh? Because you think I…killed my father? Is that why? Were you worried I'd do that to Ryou?"

"Of course not."

"Then why don't you?"

"Because Marik, I have the photos from your father's murder scene. I have the witness reports from your sister and brother. They saw what you did. Your brother pried you off your father. You say you didn't do it because you 'don't remember', I know that you did because I have the evidence. Now how much longer are you going to deny your involvement?"

Marik felt tears prickling in his eyes again, "Why do you have to say those things? I would never…ever do that to my father. And even if I did…why don't I remember?"

Hassan stared at his face for a long moment, looking like he was searching from something Marik couldn't see. Finally, the doctor spoke, "I asked you this when you and I first met in this very room. Do you really, truly, not remember the events that occurred before your admission here?"

"No…and I don't know why…" the boy choked out, "I feel like I'm going crazy…"

"You're not crazy, Marik, you're sick-"

"Do sick people have really bad dreams? I don't know what's real anymore, Doctor. Bakura! I can't tell if I'm still sleeping or not…"

"…How long has this been going on?"

"Since I got here…" he sniffed.

"I see…can you tell me about these bad dreams?"

Marik shook his head frantically, shutting his eyes tightly. Hassan sighed again, "Well, when you're ready then. It would be easier if you communicated with me a bit more, but if it's too difficult to speak of right now, then I can wait. In the meantime," the doctor helped the boy sit up and began unbuckling the straight jacket, "You owe someone an apology."

"No, I am not going near that kid!"

"Ryou, he can hear you-"

"Good! I hope he hears me. I don't want that…that psycho near me!"

Marik shifted uncomfortably where he stood outside Ryou's bedroom door. Hassan had brought him with to go pick up his nephew so the three of them could converse in his office. But from the sound of Ryou's voice, Marik knew he wasn't in the talking mood; and knowing that he'd caused Ryou to act like he was made him feel even worse. A moment later, the doctor left the room, looking a bit frazzled. He glanced down at Marik and Marik returned his stare.

"Ryou is…going to need some time to calm down first. In the meantime, I think you and I should discuss these dreams of yours."

Marik hugged his sides, "I really don't want to…"

"I know. But sometimes we must do things we don't like or that make us uncomfortable."

"I guess…" Marik mumbled, looking away from Hassan.

"Well, look at it this way. Do you want to go home? Be with your siblings again?"

The boy said nothing, but nodded in reply.

"Then think of it like this. Talking about this with me will put you one step closer to leaving Kane Hill. One step closer to home; to your brother and sister."

"Rishid…Ishizu…" Marik muttered to himself as he chewed on his lip, "Home…" He looked up at the doctor and gave a tiny nod, "Okay…I'll try."

Hassan seemed to smile a bit, "Trying is all I ask. Come on, we can discuss this in my office."

Marik could faintly hear the wheels turning on the tape recorder as he sat there, his mind wandering a bit. Hassan cleared his throat, "Marik?"

"Hm? What?"

"You were describing to me what these dreamscapes look like?"

"Oh! Uhm…sorry, I forgot what I was saying."

"We've been recording for only about fifteen minutes, but we can take a break for a bit if you need to?"

"N-no, I'm okay," he sighed, clenching his hands in his lap.

"Well, alright. Let's switch from location to other imagery. Are you the only one who you see in these dreams, or are there other people? Family? Friends?"

"No. I don't remember seeing my family at all. Just…weird people…"

"What kind of weird people?"

"Well, um…" Marik chewed at his lip some more, unsure of how to answer. He didn't want Dr. Bakura to think he was weird or crazy, or even sick like he had called him before.

"Can you describe them at all?"

Maybe if he just kept his descriptions plain, he wouldn't seem so odd, "Well…there's another boy. He's…about the same age as me I think."

"I see. What does this other boy look like?"

His heart began to beat a little fast, "Well, he's…I don't really know. He's, always kind of hiding in the dark…"

"Is he hiding because he's scared?"

Marik shook his head, "No, nothing like that. He just, doesn't let me get that close to him. But he sometimes gets close to me…I don't know," he huffed, looking away towards the wall.

"Hmm. Have you ever spoken with this boy?"

"A few times…"

"What did you two talk about?"

"Well, he told me…he guards the door."

"The door? What door?"

"I…" Marik felt his mind blanking a bit, "Door to something…I can't remember right now."

"That's alright. Is there anything else you can remember? About the boy or anything else?"

Images of fierce, red eyes and razor sharp teeth flashed through his mind, and he visibly shook, "N-no…nothing."

Hassan frowned, "Marik, you're not being honest with me, are you? Who else have you seen in these nightmares?"

"No one, okay!"

Hassan and Marik locked eyes for a few moments until the boy broke contact to glance at the floor, "I don't want to think about him, ok?"

"Who is he?"

"I said I don't want to talk about him!"

Hassan could see the boy's temper was flaring up and decided to not press the issue further, "Alright, another time then. I think we've discussed this enough for today. I'm going to go see if Ryou is up for talking now. You stay here and I'll be right back with him, alright?"

Marik nodded as Hassan got up from his seat and headed out of the room. He sat in the chair, lightly swishing his legs a bit until a noise caught his attention. He looked around and noticed the red recording light was still shining on the recording device. Doctor Bakura must have forgotten to shut it off, guess I'd better-

"He's lying you know."

Marik stopped halfway getting out of his chair, "No…no, stop doing this…Doctor Bakura isn't lying. He wants to help me…"

"He may say that, but he doesn't realize you can't be helped."

Marik felt his stomach drop, "W-what?"

"Well…not yet, anyway," the voice purred, "I told you once before you're not ready yet. Not until you accept the truth, that is."

"What is this truth you keep talking about?"

"You'll know it when you see it. Of course, you refuse to see it. And that's not really my fault, is it?"

Marik growled, "Maybe if you'd stop being so mysterious and actually tell me-"

"Ah, and therein lies the rub. You are the one who sees me as a mystery. You are the one who refuses to see the truth. I cannot tell you anything, nor show you anything, until you've stopped being a little brat about it."

"I am not-" Marik cut himself short when he heard the door open. Hassan entered the room, Ryou following reluctantly behind him.

"Sorry for the wait-oh. Did I leave that running the whole time?" He sighed, stopping the tape recorder and placing it in his pocket, muttering about himself being careless. Hassan turned back to Ryou and told him to have a seat across from Marik.

Marik looked into the bright green eyes across from him, noting that they stared back with even more rigidness than when they had first met. When neither boy spoke, Hassan took the initiative, "Marik, I believe you have something to tell my nephew?"

The boy sighed, feeling a knot form in his gut, "Ryou I'm…really sorry. I didn't mean to do that to you…"

Ryou snorted, still refusing to speak to the other boy. Marik swallowed, his throat feeling dry as he continued, "I was just…really upset and confused. I blacked out. I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear…"

Marik felt tears beginning to fall from his eyes, and Ryou signed in response, "Hey, come on. Stop crying…"

"Sorry…I just-"

"I get it…you were having a nervous breakdown. I can't say I've never had that before. Just, make sure next time you don't go for my neck, ok? It's sensitive."

Marik sniffed and looked up at Ryou, who had cracked a small smile; which, in turn, made him smile. Marik quickly wiped at the remaining tears at the corner of his eyes, trying not to seem like such a child in front of the older boy. He felt Hassan pat him on the shoulder and he looked up at the doctor, "Now then. Marik, I believe I owed you a trip outside?"

Blinking, Marik felt a smile spread across his face, "Really? A-are you sure it's okay?" The doctor nodded, heading for the door, he motioned for Marik to come with him. Marik hurried after him, a new found spring in his step, as he followed the doctor out into fresh air.

It was several hours later, after most patients had gone to bed, and the night staff was getting ready to take over that Hassan remembered he still had the tape recorder on him. He decided to take a few notes based on the tape before leaving for the night himself. When the tape had finished rewinding to the beginning of his session with Marik, he pressed play. However when the tape got to the point where he had left Marik alone in the room, he noticed something he wasn't expecting to hear. Instead of dead air and the occasional shifting from a nervous child, he heard Marik speaking as if he were having a conversation with someone. Except there was no one responding to what the boy was saying; there was simply silence.