A friend told me that the last chapter wasn't as traumatizing for Marik as she thought it was going to be. I upped the ante with this one.

Trigger Warnings: Impalement, Stabbing, and Molesting

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

Edit 6/17/2014: For the sake of accuracy, I went and changed the area to where Marik receives the sedative shots from his arm to his hip.

"A memory is what is left when something happens and does not completely unhappen."

-Edward de Bono

Chapter 4: Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

It had felt like years since Marik had set foot outside. Even if it was a fenced in area, the sight and smell of grass and fresh air was a godsend. He kicked off the shoes he was wearing to let his toes curl and pull at the green blades shooting up from the ground. The boy walked around for a bit, finally settling on a large tree to sit under. Marik knew Hassan was watching him not too far away, but the thought remained distant in his mind for the moment. He was too focused on the now to care. He lay down on his back and looked up at the branches stretching out above him; they swayed lightly in the breeze, rustling in a mesmerizing way.

The boy was reminded of the backyard waiting for him back home; the summer days he had spent out there. When he was younger, Ishizu and he would play games outside. Maybe soccer or tag, he couldn't quite remember. He sighed quietly, feeling his loneliness and isolation beginning to creep up on him again. He just had to keep reminding himself he'd be home soon; that this whole thing would have to come to an end eventually. A few birds landed in the tree, chirping to each other before some flew off again. Others pecked at the seed pods that lined the branches; Marik smiled when he saw two fighting over the same one, and felt his heart lift a little.

He let his eyes slowly slip closed; the sound of the wind in the trees and the birds calling to each other filling his ears. How nice it would be to grow wings, like them. To take off into the sky, no worries, no cares. Floating; soaring above everything; away from the ground, away from the hospital.

Something felt like it slammed into him from above, and his eyes snapped open.

He was falling, hurtling through the dark. Walls and platforms rushed past him on all sides. He thought he saw figures on them a few times, but at the speed he was falling at, Marik couldn't make out anything significant. He maneuvered himself in the air to see how close the ground was, and felt his stomach leap into his throat as he realized it was rushing up to meet him. He expected the fall to hurt; to break every bone in his body and splinter through his skin. But it wasn't the direct fall that made him feel pain. No, it was the large, metal pole that was sticking out from the floor that caused it. The one that he felt shred muscle and nerves as it ripped through his right shoulder. He shrieked in agony as pain fired through his arm like a swarm of agitated ants. Blood oozed freely from the wound, soaking his shirt sleeve within minutes.

Marik simply lay there, sobbing and clenching his teeth as tight as he could until he thought they might crack under the pressure. He could just barely move the fingers on his right hand as he tried to get his arm to work, but it otherwise did not budge. Slowly, he reached for the rod with his other hand, his arm trembling as though it were a frightened animal. He breathed in, tears falling from his eyes. He breathed out, and attempted to pull. But Marik only succeeded in causing another wave of pain to shoot through his body, and he quickly let go of the rod, letting off another strangled cry.

There has to be a way out. His mind raced through possible ideas, possible scenarios that might free him from the spike he'd fallen on. Maybe if he tried removing it the way he had fallen on it? Sniffing his running nose, Marik slowly tried to sit up. He cried out, his muscles screaming at him to stop moving. But he worked through the pain, eventually feeling his arm start to slide upwards a bit. Marik managed to get into a hunched over position before he had to stop; the pain nearly causing him to be sick. He shut his eyes again, hearing the blood dripping on occasion onto the metal grating of the floor. Plip, plip, plip. The drops sounded in time with a set of approaching footsteps. In fact were those several sets of footsteps? And chanting?

Marik felt a foot on his chest. As he opened his eyes to see who it was, he was pushed back down to the floor. The pole ripping back through his already raw flesh; his screams tore through the room briefly overshadowing the chants of the other people around him. On the verge of passing out, Marik managed to force his eyes open. Through the film of tears collecting in his eye lashes, he could see familiar tricolored spikes of hair. Atem glared down at him, face twisting into a distorted sneer.

"What's wrong, Marik?" he asked, voice coming out raspy and cruel, "Is it this?" He gestured by grabbing hold of the rod.

"N-no…please-ARGH!"

Atem had twisted the rod, putting even more strain on the limb, "Perhaps I should remove it for you?"

Marik was sobbing loudly. He shook his head, unable to reply verbally. Whether Atem saw the gesture or not didn't seem to matter. He grasped hold of the rod with both hands, one foot still on Marik's chest, and ripped it free from the ground; and by proxy, Marik's shoulder. Marik saw a white flash in his vision, feeling nothing at first. But as the light quickly faded, the pain flared through his entire body. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move; a ringing sound filled his ears. His mouth was frozen in a silent scream.

Atem dropped the blood soaked rod on the ground a short distance away. The clatter caused the world to come rushing back to Marik, and he found himself able to feel and hear again. The chanting of the others in the room sounded blaringly loud to his ears. His body shook with tremors, and he clenched his hand tightly over the open wound in a vain attempt to stop the flow. Weakly, he turned his head to the side. He could just make out some of the other people in the room. They were impossibly thin, their bodies wrapped in gauze-like linens; each wearing masks of the ancient gods of Egypt. Marik tried to scoot himself across the floor, still fighting to get away as he heard Atem speak.

"Today is a momentous occasion. Let the gods bear witness to it…" his voice bellowed, as he turned to the assembled figures, "As I join my flesh with that of this child…"

Marik's eyes widened, not sure what he meant by that. But knowing what he'd done in the past, it didn't bode well. He taxed himself to get to a standing position so he could run. But as he was attempting to do so, he felt eyes watching him as he tried, in vain, to get away. Atem closed the distance between them once more and shoved him back to the ground with his foot. Marik winced from the force, but managed to keep from crying out again.

"And this time, you're not going anywhere…" the man growled, digging his heel into Marik's chest.

Marik hissed slightly, trying to shove the foot off with his good hand, but recoiled a moment later when he realized the skin of his leg appeared to be rotting. In fact, most of him seemed to be. Marik thought he had looked horrid before, when just the corners of his mouth had become split, but he looked even more grotesque now. There were places of skin simply missing off his face and neck in chunks, showing the muscles beneath. Exposed bone bore through raw, red flesh on his arms and legs, as if something had simply dissolved the skin away. Marik covered his mouth, trying not to gag at the sight, but it was hard not to.

Atem stared down at him a moment before stomping down on Marik's midsection. The air rushed from his lungs and he coughed violently trying to get it back. Satisfied he wasn't going anywhere Atem stepped away, unclasping the cape that hung around his shoulders. He handed it off to one of the masked…creatures, for certainly they weren't human, standing around them. The Pharaoh turned around and walked back towards him. Stomach nearly heaving with fright, Marik curled into himself; tucking his knees to his chest and covering his head with his usable arm. He heard Atem scoff at him over the low hum of a prayer being recited by the others.

"Come now, my child…" he sneered, towering over the boy, "Don't you want to know what being a god feels like?"

Marik shook his head, curling up tighter. He didn't want to do anything, except maybe wake up. Or die; dying would be wonderful right now. No pain, no fear. Warm breath washed over him, and he dared to peek from under his arm. Atem was bent down over him now, mouth split wide, saliva stringing across his razor-like teeth. Marik jumped, not expecting him to be so close. Atem shoved him lightly, pushing the child flat on his back, and held Marik in place by straddling him. Not that Marik had the strength to do much of anything in that moment. He could feel his body freezing up; refusing to move at all. He simply lay there, unsure of what to do. Not knowing how to get away.

Atem leaned his head down to give Marik a quick, almost loving, kiss on the forehead, before his mouth traveled to the wound on his shoulder. His tongue slid slowly across the bloodstained skin, and Marik yelped at the ripples of pain it sent shooting through him. Marik clamped his eyes shut, not wanting to see what the man would do next. He felt Atem smirk against his shoulder before his mouth opened wider and felt teeth clamp down. Screeching, Marik found his will to move, and squirmed, trying to get Atem to let go. But he only bit down harder, even started sucking blood from the still oozing wound. With his free hand he pushed at Atem's shoulder, but the king quickly put a stop to it. He grabbed the boy's hand around the wrist and held it away with relative ease.

He screamed at Atem to stop, but the older man paid his pleas no mind, too engrossed in what he was doing. Marik could feel his teeth tearing into the skin, coaxing the life giving fluid into his mouth. As he tried to free his wrist he thought he heard Atem let off a stifled moan, and Marik felt his stomach heave in response. He continued to tug and twist his wrist, but it still refused budge from Atem's iron-like grip. Eventually, his squirms drew the king's attention away from his arm and back to him. His eyes bore into Marik's as his tongue lapped at the corner of his lips. Marik trembled at the site, and shut his eyes tightly, refusing to look at him any longer. Quietly he began reciting the prayer his sister had taught him, hoping against hope it would make the monster go away. Make everything go away.

Harsh laughter reached his ears, and Marik felt the words die in his throat. He opened his tear stained eyes to see Atem sneering at him, "Look around you, Marik. The gods aren't here to help you. As pretty as your little song is," he purred, touching a blood soaked finger to the child's lips, "it won't do you any good."

Marik snapped at the digit with his teeth, but Atem pulled his hand away before he got the chance to nab it, "Now now…" he tisked, clicking his tongue a bit, "We'll have none of that out of you…"

Atem grabbed hold of the child's face and forced his mouth open before dipping his head down to catch the boy's lips with his own. Marik let off a strangled cry, and writhed with disgust when he felt the other's tongue moving inside his mouth; the taste of blood, his blood, nearly making him vomit. Atem's other hand let go of Marik's wrist, and snaked down to the waist line of Marik's shirt; slowly working its way under. Immediately, Marik was pounding his fist on the other's shoulder, which only earned him a raking down his side from Atem's sharp fingernails. With another muffled yelp, he stopped, gripping the fabric of Atem's robes tightly in response to the pain.

After a while, Atem finally stopped the kiss, Marik coughed, and gasped for air and relief. Never had he felt more disgusted in his life then he did in that moment. But it seemed Atem wasn't done with him yet; he latched back onto the still bleeding wound on Marik's shoulder, biting even harder. Marik screeched again, feeling for sure that those teeth were taking chunks of flesh with them. His eyes wandered off to the side, in an attempt to block out the pain, and that's when Marik noticed his look-a-like standing a short distance away. His eyes widened, and he reached his hand out towards the other boy.

"H-help me…please…" he whimpered.

The other Marik glanced at him, eyes half lidded, as if he were bored, "Why should I? I've already done enough for you. Learn to help yourself, and maybe you'll get somewhere…"

His heart nearly stopped, "Please…it hurts so much-AH! A-aren't you supposed to look out for me? T-that's what you said!"

Glaring slightly, the other Marik walked a little closer. He kicked at something on the floor, pushing it closer to Marik and Atem, "I do look out for you…but sooner or later, you have to start doing things on your own…" he sneered before turning around and walking away.

"W-wait!" He cried out. But the other boy said nothing more; seeming to fade back into the shadows of the room. No one else seemed to have noticed him come or go. Who was he? Marik's eyes shifted over to the object he had kicked closer. His breath caught when he saw it was the same steel rod he had landed on before. The end he had fallen on looked rather sharp. Sharp enough to stop Atem? He stretched his arm towards it, his hand shaking as he strained to reach it. He almost had it, just a little more.

Atem's hand was moving uncomfortably close to the waistband of his pants when he felt his finger's clamp around the rod. Atem released his shoulder, when he felt the boy shift under him, "What are you doing, Marik?"

Marik didn't reply; he gripped the rod tightly, mustering every last ounce of strength he had left in his body, and drove the spike into Atem's side as hard as he could. Atem let off an almost inhuman roar as the rod pierced his flesh. As he thrashed about, trying to remove it, Marik took the chance to force himself to stand. He was about to run when Atem grabbed hold of his ankle and yanked, causing him to fall face first into the grated floor. Marik landed hard, grunting from the impact.

He heard Atem standing as he was trying to recover. Turning to look, Marik saw him rip the spike out effortless, like it had been no more serious than a splinter. His eyes widened at the king, and Marik knew he'd really messed up this time. Atem stared down at him a moment longer, before launching himself at the child, tearing into him with both teeth and nails. Mairk felt his skin ripping and tearing, and never thought he could scream as loud as he was. By the gods, there was so much pain. Surely he was going to die now. There was no other possible road in sight for him. Simply death.

"Marik."

Who was calling him? Was it his father? Was his father's spirit coming to get his?

"Marik? Marik, it's alright. Open your eyes."

Open my eyes? No…no I don't want to look at him. He wailed and thrashed his arms, trying one last time to get away. One last time, to fight back…

Marik felt his body jerk violently, and it forced him to open his eyes. His body was drenched in sweat. And…oh no…had he wet the bed? His eyes frantically shifted around until he settled on a person who was by his bedside. A nurse was looking back at him. He didn't recognize her, but in that moment he was just so glad to see another normal person that he didn't care. Marik threw his arms around the woman's shoulders and buried his face into the crook of her neck and sobbed.

"Goodness…it's alright. You were just having a bad dream," She spoke softly, patting his back.

Marik whimpered, too embarrassed and too frightened for words. She held him there for what felt like an hour until he felt himself calming down a bit. When he finally looked up, the nurse pet his hair affectionately, "There now…a little better?" she asked.

Marik shook his head; images from the dream still cycling through his mind. Not to mention his pants were soaking wet, and so was the rest of his bed. Sniffing, Marik looked away, not wanting to tell the nurse he'd had an accident. But she seemed to catch on when he kept shifting uncomfortably.

"Do you need me to get you some clean clothes, hun?"

He nodded, feeling his face flush a bit. She smiled with an understanding air about her and stood up, "I'll be right back. In the meantime, I can ask one of our night staff doctors to talk to you while I'm gone so you're not alone, alright?"

"Okay…"

She left without another word, shutting the door behind her. Marik sat quietly, wringing his hands in his lap as he waited for someone to come back. When the door did open, however, he felt his mind simply stop. There was no possible way this was happening right now. He couldn't still be asleep…could he? The doctor that was standing in the door way…his skin was much lighter, but there was no mistaking that hair; those eyes.

"Hello…Marik, right?" He said, walking closer to the boy's bed.

Marik said nothing, feeling something inside him snap. He backed against the wall, trying to phase through to the other side. His eyes were wide; ever muscle in his body taunt with fear. The doctor stopped, his face looking concerned, seeming to ask him what was wrong. He hardly heard the words that came out of his mouth. All he could see was the face of that doctor; the face of Atem. The doctor moved closer, his hand reaching out to try and touch the child's shoulder. Marik started screaming, covering his head, yelling at him to stay away. He kicked at him with his legs to keep him from closing the distance any more. The nurse must have heard the commotion from down the hall, as she was back in the room soon after Marik began shouting again.

"Doctor Mutou, what's going on?"

"I don't know! He won't let me near him!"

Marik continued shoving at the doctor, even throwing the pillow from his bed at him; repeating the words 'stay away from me'. The nurse got closer, managing to get a grip on the child. Despite her best efforts, the child refused to cease his fit. She turned back to the doctor, "I think he's going to need a sedative to calm down."

Marik registered the word sedative and stopped very briefly. They were going to put him back to sleep; back into that nightmare. He screamed even louder at them, "No! I won't go back there!"

While the nurse held onto him as the doctor nodded and left. He returned with a syringe in hand. As soon as he laid eyes on the needle, Marik began thrashing in the nurse's grip. The doctor grabbed hold of him, rolling the waist band of his pants down to expose his hip. Marik shrieked at him to stop as he swabbed a spot on his skin with alcohol. When he didn't listen, Marik lashed out. He managed to muster enough strength to break free from the nurse's hold and latch onto the doctor's hand with his teeth. He bit down as hard as he could, feeling the surface of the skin pop under the pressure. The doctor was shouting at the nurse to get him off, his voice tinged with pain. But Marik didn't relinquish his hold until the bitter tang of blood filled his mouth. He spat, nearly gagging, not having expected to draw blood from the bite. The doctor moved a short distance away, cursing as he held his injured hand. The nurse had let go of Marik to make sure he was alright.

"I-I'm fine…" he said through gritted teeth, looking back at the child on the bed, "I'll go get this looked at. You see to him..."

Marik stared back, his eyes seeming oddly listless as they locked gazes. The nurse nodded at the doctor as he left, saying to Marik that she would be right back with his clean clothes and fresh bedding. He didn't reply, and she left without saying anything else. Hand shaking, Marik lifted his fingers up to his mouth and wiped them across his lips. When they came away bloody, it seemed to shock him back to his senses. He'd just bit someone, a doctor no less. Marik felt his throat clench tightly as he swallowed. He had a feeling he was going to be in a lot of trouble.

Some odd hours later, after receiving clean hospital clothes to wear and refusing to fall back asleep, Hassan came to see him. And for all intents and purposes, the white-haired man did not look happy. Marik looked up at him, but didn't have the heart to say anything, feeling as though he had somehow disappointed this man. Doctor Bakura walked over and sat next to him on the bed.

"I heard you attacked one of the other staff early this morning. Do you want to explain to me why?"

Marik buried his face into his knees that he had tucked up to his chest. This seemed to only aggravate Hassan's mood, "That was not a rhetorical question. Answer me, Marik."

"They wanted to put me back to sleep…" he replied, his voice muffled.

"That doesn't explain why you wouldn't let my colleague speak to you before that. No one here is going to hurt you, Marik. You know that, right?"

"I told him to stay away…he didn't listen. Tried to touch me too…"

"And what makes Doctor Mutou so special? You didn't scream at me when we first met. In fact, I could hardly get a word out of y-"

"I just didn't want him near me, okay?!"

Hassan sighed, rubbing his forehead. He looked over at Marik, still hiding his face, and frowned, "You're going to apologize to him. He's already left for the day, and because of the injury you caused he might not be back for a few more. But when he is, I expect you to give him one to his face."

"No…"

"What was that?"

"I said no…I don't want to ever see that person again!"

"This isn't about what you want. It's about doing what's right."

"And who says you get to decide what's right for me?" He spat out, looking up at Doctor Bakura. Tears were beginning to trickle down his cheeks, "You're not my father! You said it yourself, he's dead! And it's my f-f-" Marik choked, unable to finish his sentence.

Hassan's expression fell, "I know I'm not, Marik. I'm not trying to be your father. I am your doctor, and I'm trying to understand what's going on with you so that I can help you."

"I just want to go home…why is that so hard to understand?"

"It's not. A lot of the kids here just want to go home. But they can't always go home right away because they might hurt themselves or other people."

"Like I did to that other doctor…"

"Yes...what would happen if you accidentally hurt your brother or your sister?"

"I would never-"

"We don't know that right now…what you did to your father, you claimed you would never have done. And since you can't remember why at the moment, it's difficult to judge what you would do outside without fulltime supervision."

Marik stared at him a moment before glancing over at the wall. When he didn't say anything for a moment, Hassan decided to start the conversation back up, "If you'll allow me, I did want to ask you about something from the other day."

"Uhm…sure, I guess."

"The other day, after I talked with you about your nightmares; when I left the room, I forgot to shut the tape recorder off."

Realization started coming back to him. Marik thought he'd only been speaking to the other boy in his head. Right?

"You were talking to someone after I left. But there's no other response on the tape…"

"I…I was just sort of…thinking out loud…"

"You don't sound very sure of that answer."

"He's not real, okay?"

"You seemed to think he was when you were speaking with him."

Marik mussed his hair, growling a bit, "He's no one, okay?"

"Marik…"

"What?"

"I told you the other day to think of talking with me as a step towards going home. If you keep hiding things from me, don't you think you're being counterproductive?"

The boy shut his eyes, feeling tears welling up again, "I…" he sniffed, "It's just…"

"Just what?"

"You'll think I'm even crazier. You'll have me locked up here for the rest of my life…"

"That's awfully presumptuous of you," he chuckled, "I thought we established I was going to help you leave?"

"How can I be sure? How do I know you can help me?"

"I can only help you as much as you'll let me. Keeping secrets won't help you here, Marik. Not telling me anything will only make it more difficult not just for me, but for you as well."

Marik hugged his knees tighter, unable to find anything to say. The words of his look-a-like kept running through his mind. Could Doctor Bakura really not help me right now? Am I beyond helping? When he didn't respond, the doctor sighed, "We don't have to talk about him right now if you'd prefer. But try to get it into your mind that we should, alright?"

"I'll…try, I guess…"

"Good. Now then," he took a moment to flip through the papers on the clip board he had brought with him, "The night staff nurse told me you had an accident last night."

Marik buried his face again, "I don't want to talk about that either…"

"I wasn't planning on it. I just thought you might want to take a shower. You haven't gotten a chance to bathe since being here. You've spent the last few days either talking to me or passed out. It might help you think a little more clearly as well."

The boy peeked up slightly at him. A shower did sound really good right about now, considering he was used to taking one every day at home. Come to think of it, his skin felt really grimy. With a sigh he nodded, "A shower would be nice…"

The initial rush of water was like ice, and Marik nearly squealed from the sensation against his skin. After a moment, it started to gradually work its way up in temperature and he sighed. Marik dunked his head under the spray, letting the liquid warm his chilled skin. He heard Hassan shift a bit just outside the shower stall, "Let me know if you need anything."

"Okay…" he replied, leaning his head against the tile of the wall.

He let his eyes slipped closed for a moment, concentrating on the sound of the water falling. The boy wondered if Hassan would be mad if he fell asleep in here. Marik hated to admit it, but he felt exhausted. Even though he'd hardly done anything since coming to the hospital, those constant nightmares made him feel like he was awake. They were sapping him of his strength. Marik thoughts fleeted over the possibility of one of these times, the nightmares might actually kill him…

Sighing, Marik lifted his head off the wall and opened his eyes. He blinked a few times when he saw the tile had peeled away, revealing metal mesh that had been hiding underneath. Tendrils of what seemed to be flesh was spread out along the wall, pulsing slightly as if it were alive. The showerhead was no longer dispersing water, but blood; and Marik realized it was now covering his skin. He nearly screamed as he backed out of the shower, pushing past the plastic curtain. It ripped free from the curtain rod, and Marik smacked into the ground when he ran into it.

Shaking, Marik sat up, pushing the plastic off himself. He saw the blood splattered across his skin, and frantically tried to wipe it off his face and hair. Try as he might, it wouldn't come off, and his efforts only seemed to be making it worse. He wailed, holding his head, trying to keep it together, but Marik could feel his resolve failing him. The boy's hands shook as he lifted his head up. A mirror had appeared in front of him. The reflected image of himself stared back, and Marik's eyes grew wide. The image in the mirror, the blood smeared on his face and wound in his hair, looked exactly like the other boy. It was as if he was becoming him.

"Why are you doing this to me?!" he screeched.

There was nothing but silence for a moment or two before Marik saw the image in the mirror start to shift. He heard the mirror Marik start to chuckle. The other Marik smirked back at him, "Why am I doing this? But Marik, don't you know? You're doing all of this on your own."

"No I'm not! I never wanted or asked for any of this!"

"Oh, but that doesn't stop you from making things happen. Of course, you can stop it at any time."

"I don't know how…" he whimpered, his eyes getting wet.

The Marik in the mirror scoffed, "Oh you know perfectly well what needs to be done. The question is when will you decide it's time?"

Marik felt someone lightly tap him, and suddenly there was a bright light above him. Jumping, Marik opened his eyes widener. Hassan was bent down in front of him; brow furrowed slightly, "I thought I'd heard you muttering to yourself, come to find out you were asleep. You haven't been getting enough rest with all these bad dreams, am I right?" he asked.

Marik shook his head, "…You're not mad I fell asleep in the shower, are you?"

"No, of course not; I'm just concerned. I think we need to discuss these dreams more though. If you keep them holed up inside, you'll just keep having them."

The boy shook his head again, hugging his knees, "I don't want to talk about them. I want to forget…"

"Sometimes forgetting isn't always best. And forgetting doesn't change the fact that something has happened. That's partly why you're still here, Marik."

"…Because I don't remember why I…attacked father?"

"Yes. Somewhere in your mind, is the memory of what transpired, and why you did what you did. It might be painful, and it might be difficult, but try your best to recall it."

"I don't know if I can."

Hassan sighed, "You have to believe you can, Marik. And above all, you have to try. If you don't even do that much, you're doing yourself a disservice," he said, handing Marik the towels tucked under his arms, "Now get yourself dried off and I'll bring you some clean clothes."

Marik's shoes scuffed along the tiled floor as he walked with Hassan to the Day Room. He agreed to let the boy have some time to himself before attempting to talk about his bad dreams. Marik had reluctantly agreed on the fact that the doctor had assured him they wouldn't delve too deep into details this first time. After he'd been walked to the room, Hassan told him he could go do whatever he wished and that he'd be back in about an hour or so. Sighing, the boy scanned the room, wondering what he should do. There were a lot of other kids in the room, most of them looking pretty normal. Some were in groups talking with each other, while others were keeping to themselves. A few of them glanced his way, but paid him no mind otherwise. Marik hugged his sides as he shuffled around the room, feeling like he was very out of place among these other kids, and he wasn't sure why that was. A nagging feeling in the back of his head said it was perhaps due to the nature of why he was in this hospital in the first place. He sighed as he walked over to a nearby window.

Sitting down on the ledge, Marik noted that the glass panes were exceptionally thick. The blinds that were drawn up were in between them, probably so the patients wouldn't ruin them. Outside, it was relatively sunny; the clouds looking like big cotton balls as they rolled across the sky. A television set hummed in the background among the noise of the other patients, but Marik couldn't be bothered to make out what was being said. The boy sighed and leaned his head against the glass. He would have liked to do something fun, but the thought of having to talk about his nightmares was weighing heavily on his already tired mind. Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he looked up. It was Ryou. Marik was wondering if he was in here since he hadn't spotted his trademark white hair before.

"What are you doing sitting over here by yourself?" the other boy asked, giving him an odd look.

"I…don't really know…thinking I guess."

Ryou nodded and sat down on the other side of the sill, "So, uh…I did say I'd consider playing a game with you later. You up for one?"

Marik shrugged in response, "Maybe. I'm not sure at the moment. My head just feels really…'floaty'."

"Uh huh…"

"Do you ever get like that?"

"Like what?"

"Where you kind of feel like...you're not inside your body anymore? And nothing feels real anymore? Kind of like you're lifting off the ground and flying away, but you can't stop or get back down…"

"Disassociating…"

"Huh?"

"It's what my uncle calls it…means something like, you're pushing your issues so far away you feel like you're trying to escape your body, or something like that."

"Oh…well I don't like it…I have enough trouble knowing what's real anymore without it…"

Ryou frowned and looked away, "Yeah...me too."

"What do you mean, 'you too'?"

"Well…hmm," Ryou paused for a moment, seeming to loose himself in thought before he continued, "I just…can't seem to escape from the past. I keep replaying what happened in my mind. I look at all the ways I could have done something to help, and…realize I didn't try any of them when I had the chance to."

"Help with what, exactly?"

Ryou opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it, running his hand through his hair. Marik frowned and reached out a hand, "Hey…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you…"

"Nah…I'm fine. Maybe I'll tell you sometime. Just…not right now."

"Okay," Marik replied. He looked back out the window, watching the clouds once more until Ryou cleared his throat to get the boy's attention.

"So you want to play a game or not?"

"Oh! Well…what game were you thinking?"

Ryou got up and grabbed a deck of playing cards off a nearby table, "Know how to play go fish?" When Marik gave him a blank stare, Ryou sighed, "I can teach you, I suppose."

The pair sat down at the table. Ryou shuffled the cards and dealt out seven to each of them. He spread the rest of the cards out in a pile between them. He told Marik the basics through a practice round before dealing the cards out once more. As the game went on, Marik found his mind starting to relax. He wasn't thinking about what he'd have to do soon; too focused on winning the game. Ryou was pretty good at it and wasn't going easy on him at all. They got through about three rounds before Hassan came back. Marik felt his good mood start to dissipate when he felt the doctor tap his shoulder. The boy quietly put down his cards, much to Ryou's visible disappointment, and let Hassan lead him back to his office.