Thanks for everyone still sticking with this story. Feedback is welcome and appreciated.

Trigger Warnings: Cutting, Stabbing, Blood

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

"There are memories that time does not erase... Forever does not make loss forgettable, only bearable."

― Cassandra Clare, City of Heavenly Fire

Chapter 8: Thanatos Instinct

Rebecca sat quietly humming to herself. She was in one of the chairs gathered near an old television set in the day room. The screen flickered every so often and the color seemed to be slightly off. It was playing a rerun of some kid's show that he'd forgotten the name to, but he didn't care to think on it. That wasn't why he was here. Marik spotted her when he caught sight of the bear in her lap and hurried over to her and urgently tapped her shoulder.

She jumped, turning to look at him, "What's the big idea?"

Marik shushed her, trying to keep the attention off of them, "Rebecca, have you seen Ryou at all today?" He asked.

She frowned, thinking to herself for a moment, "Now that you mention it, I haven't seen him. He's probably just sleeping still."

Shaking his head, Marik felt his heart racing, "I overheard Doctor Bakura and Nurse Mazaki. They said he's missing."

"Missing?" She nearly shouted.

Marik waved his hands to get her to quiet down again, "Yes…and I'm worried. I think we should go look for him."

"But aren't the doctors looking for him?"

"They are, but they've been looking all over and haven't found him yet. I just want to make sure he's okay."

"Well…" she paused, "There's only one place I can think of that he might be."

Marik nodded, "Yeah I know. But it's too dark down there to really see."

"That's okay I have a flashlight in my room. I use it to keep the shadows away at night. I can go get it if you want?"

Marik smiled and nodded, "Yeah. Go get it and let's meet by the basement stairs in a few minutes, okay?"

Marik and Rebecca slowly made their way down the basement stairs. This was probably the only place that Hassan had not thought to look. And Marik didn't blame him. Though he couldn't understand how Ryou could stand it down here. The tunnel like halls still filled him with a sense of dread, even though it was now illuminated by the flashlight Rebecca had retrieved from her room. His eyes glanced around the hall, looking for the door Ryou had mentioned the last time the two of them had been down here, but it seemed to still be further down.

Rebecca clutched to the back of his shirt. Mildly annoying, but he decided not to say anything. She was probably as scared of this place as he was. When the door finally came into view, Marik noticed that it was slightly ajar. It also sounded like someone was rummaging through boxes. He looked at Rebecca over his shoulder and motioned for her to stay quiet. She nodded and the two of them moved closer to the storage room.

The door was only a few steps from them, and the sound of someone digging around in boxes seemed more frantic. Marik covered the light with his hand and stepped to the threshold of the room. Poking his head through the open door, he spotted someone hunched over a cardboard box. A few lay strewn around, filled with what he assumed was medical supplies. Swallowing the bit of nervous bile rising in his throat, Marik moved closer.

He could see the person a little better now, even if it was just their backside. They were wearing a set of patient scrubs like he and Rebecca were. Passing the flashlight off to his companion, Marik made to walk closer until the person straightened up. Even in the dim light, Marik could see Ryou's white hair as clear as day, and he felt relief wash over him. They had found him. He was alright.

"Ryou, there you are!" he called out, "I was worried something bad happened to you. Are you okay?"

Ryou glanced over his shoulder at the pair in the doorway, and Marik felt his smile fading. Ryou's eyes still bore that empty look they had from the night before. And when he gazed upon him and Rebecca, they grew even colder.

"Why are you here?" he growled.

Frowning, Marik drew closer, "What do you mean? The whole hospital staff is looking for you!"

"Did anyone follow you?!"

Flinching, Marik took a step back. He bumped into Rebecca who whined in protest.

"No…why would we be followed? Are you okay?" Marik asked.

"I'm fine. Now leave!" Ryou shouted, his shoulders tensing.

"Hey, easy! We just-"

Ryou turned to face them; the hard shadows from the flashlight making him seem even angrier. It glinted off something clutched tightly in his right hand. The shine drew Marik's eyes to it, and he felt his dread start to grow.

"I said leave. Now."

"Ryou," he swallowed, "Why do you have that scalpel?" He asked, feeling Rebecca shift position behind him.

"It's none of your fucking business," he growled, clutching the scalpel tighter, "None of it was your fucking business!"

"What are you talking about?"

Ryou chuckled, "As if you don't know…you wouldn't stop hounding me to speak about it for the last few days!"

"I...Ryou, I'm sorry. I was just-"

"Just trying to help?" He sneered, taking a step towards Marik, "I never asked for your fucking help! Nor did I ever want it! And I swear to God, if you and that little brat don't get the hell out of here," he paused, grabbing Marik by the front of his shirt, "I will carve your throat out like a fucking jack-o-lantern!"

Marik froze, feeling the cold, sharp edge of the blade pressed firmly against his neck. He dared not look Ryou in the eyes; hardly breathing as the other boy held him there. Rebecca let off a startled cry behind him.

"Ryou, don't-"

"Rebecca, don't you dare get any closer to me," Ryou hissed, pulling Marik closer, "Or his blood is on you. Do you understand?"

Marik could see tears forming in the girl's eyes reflecting in the beam of the flashlight. She nodded, not saying another word.

Marik swallowed, trying to stay as calm as one could with a knife pressed to their throat, "It's going to be okay Rebecca," He said, nodding at her, "Ryou…please, just calm-"

"Shut up! I am through being fucking calm! I am done with all of this bullshit! You, my uncle, the tests, the pills; I'm sick of it!" He shouted, voice starting to crack, "I just need to see her again…be with her again. I need to tell her I'm sorry. Tell her I'm sorry. Amane, oh god, I'm so sorry…"

"Ryou…"

"And now you're here and fucking everything up!"

"I was only worried about you!"

Ryou's voice started to warble more, "I just want to be left alone. That's all I ever wanted. I could have been with Amane a long time ago if everyone would have just left me alone!"

Ryou was hysterical now; his words coming out a hodgepodge of sobbing and laughter. And Marik felt his grip on the knife slack. Not a lot, but enough where the blade was no longer flush with his skin. His thoughts raced. He had to get the scalpel away from Ryou. Ducking out from Ryou's grip, he latched onto the other boy's right arm. It didn't take long for Ryou to notice, and he tried to force Marik to let go. The two struggled against the other: Marik trying to pry Ryou's fingers apart to make him drop the scalpel, and Ryou trying to pull his arm free. The white-haired boy was screaming at him. No words, just guttural noises as he fought for control. He landed a punch to Marik's stomach, taking his breath away. The boy dropped to his knees, gasping for air.

"Rebecca," he choked out, "I need help!"

He glanced over at her where she stood frozen by the door. She was shaking with terror and still clutching her flashlight. Turning back, Marik saw Ryou unwinding the bandages that were on his left arm. The wrappings pulled loose, fluttering to the floor like feathers plucked from a wing. And in the dim light, Marik could faintly make out long, straight cuts running down Ryou's arm. They had begun to scab over. He stared at Ryou's arm, then at the scalpel. He realized that Ryou had done that to himself, and that he was going to it again.

"Ryou, no!" Marik shouted, grabbing hold of his arm once more.

"Get the fuck off me!"

"Give me the knife, please! You don't want to hurt yourself anymore!"

"You don't know shit about me!" The older boy snarled, pushing on Marik's smaller frame with his free hand, "You didn't drive someone over the edge! You didn't cause someone to stare into the abyss and not be able to look back. The abyss that I deserve to be in…"

Marik looked him in the eyes and held on tighter, "But think of your sister! If she were here, she'd want you to stop. I'm sure of it!"

"You never even met her! How could you possibly know? If I were her, I'd never be able to forgive someone for such a thing!"

"What if she does?"

"No…" he said quietly, "How could she? How could anyone? My parents couldn't do it. Why do you think they put me in this damn nut house?"

"Because you're their son…they care about you!"

"Care about me?" He laughed, "No one in my family cares about me anymore. Especially not my parents! I saw the way they looked at me afterwards when they thought I wasn't looking; after Amane killed herself. They can't even look me in the eyes anymore…I've shamed our whole family! I took away the music from their lives, and mine. And for that, there is only one fate I deserve. And neither you, nor my Uncle, are going to change that."

Ryou punched at him with his free hand, and it took every ounce of willpower not to let go a second time. Even as he felt Ryou's fist hitting his ribs. Marik knew he couldn't hold out forever, and he screamed at Rebecca for help. That Ryou needed both of them. Realization swept over her face. Dropping the flashlight, she ran over and latched onto Ryou's waist. He stopped mid punch and attempted to pry the girl off. All the while, still trying to get his arm free of Marik's grip.

"Rebecca, don't let him go, okay?"

"Okay!" She shouted back.

Marik grabbed hold of Ryou's wrist and pulled his hand down, still trying to get him to release the scalpel. But his grip was so tight that his fingers were beginning to turn cold around the steel. Not willing to relinquish to the boy, Ryou tugged his arm back, but the two younger children were starting to tire him out. He stepped back and tried to pull free again, but the box he had been digging in swallowed his foot. And the three tumbled backwards into the shelf, bringing various medical supplies down with them as Ryou's back hit the floor. Rebecca and Marik landed on him as the boxes fell down.

Marik covered his head until the debris had stopped. He slowly sat up when the dust had settled. Shaking a bit he glanced over at Rebecca to ask if she was alright. But Rebecca wasn't looking at him. She was staring past him at something on the ground making a strange, gurgling sound. The flashlight beam illuminated the room from where it sat on the floor, casting an eerie glow around them. Marik turned to see what it was and saw Ryou lying there on the floor, clutching at his throat. He was choking and there was blood welling from his mouth. The scalpel that had been so desperate to hold onto now buried in his throat. Ryou's hand was still clutched tightly around it. His eyes had gone wide with confusion.

Rebecca started screaming, and Marik felt his mind racing. He scrambled over to Ryou, trying not to be sick. Blood was leaking out of his nose and where the scalpel lay lodged in his throat. He pressed his hands as close to the wound as he could while trying to keep Ryou from moving too much.

"Ryou just hold on, okay?! You're going to be alright, I promise!" He choked out, head starting to buzz, "Just keep looking at me, alright?" He turned back to look at Rebecca and shouted at her to get help, but she had her hands clamped over her eyes. Horrified screams continued to peal from her throat as he felt Ryou grab onto the sleeve of his shirt. Marik's attention immediately snapped back to him.

The white-haired boy sounded like he was trying to speak, and Marik leaned in to try and hear him over the ringing in his ears. But all that came out was a garbled noise and a bloody bubble. It burst, splattering over Marik's face, making him flinch. Trying to ignore it, he held his hands tighter over the wound. That's what he needed to do right? Keep pressure applied to stop the bleeding? But there was so much and it was getting everywhere: on his clothes, his skin, the floor. It was spreading out around Ryou's head, dying his hair ruby.

"I'm so sorry…I didn't mean it. Please don't be mad, just hold on. Rebecca, go get help, now!"

Still the girl refused to move, rooted to the spot. Marik pressed tighter to the wound, desperately trying to keep Ryou alive. The teen choked again and Marik strained his ears to try and make out the words. But he shook his head, unable to understand. Instead, Ryou pointed at Marik, then at himself. He tapped at the side pocket on his own shirt, andMarik glanced down at it. There was something sticking out: a folded piece of paper. Marik snatched it up and recognized it almost instantly: it was the blue-haired angel that Rebecca had drawn. Ryou's hand clutched Marik's that held the drawing and roughly shoved it towards Marik's chest. Marik nodded, and tucked away. Marik kept repeating that he was going to be okay as the hand grasping his lost its grip. It smacked to the floor with a hollow sounding plop. Ryou's bright green eyes glassed over into a sickly gray. The life draining out of them as a single tear fell down his blood stained cheek. He let off one final, raspy breath before his body became still.

"R-Ryou? Ryou!"

Marik tapped the lifeless face, but he gave no response. Marik's hands were shaking as he drew them away from Ryou. He was dead. He's dead because of me. That knife was in his throat because I fell on him. It's my fault. I did this oh god, I…

…Marik saw his father turn around as he was bringing the tea tray with him into the study. He seemed to be skimming the books, unawares of the boy's presence in the room even as he set the silver tray down. Normally, Marik would have poured it right away, but he was skipping the formalities today. He glanced at his father once, still facing away from him, then back to the tray. He could see where the handle of the kitchen knife he had taken was sticking out from under the platter. Quietly, Marik grabbed hold of the handle and slipped it out from under. He took the kettle of hot tea in his other hand and walked closer.

"Did you pour the tea yet?" The older man asked, glancing over at his son.

Marik stopped mid step, knife half raised as a horrified expression graced his father's face.

"Marik…Marik, what are you doing? Put that down!"

His eyes shifted to the knife then back to his father and he stepped closer. What he was doing had to be done. He just kept repeating to himself over and over. This was for the best; for both of them.

"Marik!"

Marik threw the contents of tea kettle as hard as he could. His father howled as the hot water seared his skin, too distracted by the pain to notice Marik. And that's when he drove the knife into his chest. His father was screaming as he fell to the floor, but Marik felt no pity. He was still screaming and therefore still breathing. He pulled the knife out and thrust it in again.

"Marik stop! Please, I-" The second strike of the knife cut him off mid sentence, and all Marik's father could do was scream at the child.

But Marik didn't relent; each stab of the knife went further into his skin. His father held his arms in front of his face, but it did little to deter the boy. Blood sprayed out when he brought the blade into his father's throat. No longer able to grovel, the man sputtered and choked on the blood pooling into his mouth. He reached a hand out towards Marik in a last attempt to get through to him, but the emptiness in the child's eyes told him it was meaningless.

Marik started screaming. He hacked into him with the knife over and over; the blade smacking wetly against skin, muscle and bone. Flaying the man open like an animal ripe for slaughter. And he kept going, even long after his father and grown still. His clothes and hair were peppered with blood as it splattered in every direction. And Marik began to laugh with delight at the sight before him. Even as a strong pair of hands reached around his shoulders and hauled him off his father's body. Still he laughed as his brother pried the knife from his hand. His sister was screaming somewhere behind him…

A masculine voice broke through the dark, "What the hell's going on down here? You kids aren't…Christ in Heaven!"

Marik soon realized that the screaming he was hearing was dying in Rebecca's throat as the room faded back into focus. His head whipped towards the door to see a janitor standing there looking horrified.

"Please…help…" Marik managed to stutter before he felt his body grow heavy. He pitched forward, the floor rushing up to meet him, as the world went dark.

"Ryou? Oh my God, Ryou, no…"

Marik felt himself coming to moments later when someone placed a strong substance under his nose. He tried to move his head away from it, but it seemed to follow him until he finally managed to pry open his eyes. There was a doctor bent over him that he didn't recognize. He looked off to the side at someone else in the room.

"Doctor Bakura, he's coming around."

Marik turned to look as well. Hassan was crouched near Ryou's body, hand lightly tucking a loose strand of hair away from the teen's face before moving to his eyes; slowly and gently closing them.

"Hassan?" The other doctor asked quietly.

"I'll be with him in a moment…"

Marik slowly sat upright, feeling himself pitch forward. The doctor steadied the boy to keep him from hitting the floor again. Groaning, Marik held his head. He felt like the room was spinning around at him. Rebecca was gone. One of the doctor's must have removed her from the room. He glanced back at Hassan and Ryou. The doctor was laying his lab coat over the top of the other boy before taking a step back.

"Call the pathologist down here and have him take Ryou up to the morgue. I need to speak with Marik alone."

The other doctor nodded, making sure Marik was stable enough to let go before heading out of the room. Marik rubbed his temples, trying to clear his head. But the image of Ryou clinging to life, of his father clinging to life, kept replaying through his mind's eye. He looked at his shaking hands; the blood was slowly drying on his skin.

"Father…" he whispered.

"Marik?"

Sniffing, Marik looked up at him. Hassan bent down to his level, face unreadable, but eyes belaying his grief. The shame and regret he felt in that moment was so overwhelming that he began to sob. The doctor pulled him into a hug, patting his back.

"It's alright…"

"No it's not…this is my fault."

Hassan looked down at him, "Marik this was not your fault-"

"Yes it is! Yes it is…" he cried, "I did this...I tried to stop him, but," he glanced over at the coat covering Ryou, "I only made things worse. The knife is in his throat because of me. Just like my father…"

Hassan blinked, and looked down at him, "What?"

"You were right Doctor Bakura…" he said quietly, "I did kill him. I took a knife from the kitchen and I stabbed him with it. And I just kept doing it. I didn't stop. I couldn't stop."

"Marik…"

"But why," he looked up at Hassan again, "Maybe I really am crazy…"

"Marik, I-" Hassan sighed and released the boy, "I think we can talk about this later."

"Okay…"

Doctor Bakura stood and offered his patient his hand, "For now let's… just get you cleaned up."

Marik nodded without another word, using the Doctor's aid to get to his feet. His knees shook as he took a few steps, and Hassan had to support him. As they moved to the door, Marik glanced back at Ryou, still lying motionless on the floor. Hassan noticed him looking, and gently turned his head away.

"You don't need to look at that. Come on," Hassan murmured, ushering the pair of them out of the room. He grabbed hold of the door and partially shut it before he and Marik made the climb back upstairs.