Chapter 4: A Bloody Knife
Marik sat across the room Yami, his lavender gaze revealing that he wasn't really there. That was the only way he could stop thinking about Rishid. Marik shook his head slightly when the spirit of the ancient pharaoh mentioned his name in the one sided conversation further disarraying the birds nest of blond hair on his head. That was what his sister had said once. Marik's throat tightened at the thought of his sister.
"Marik!" Yami snapped impatiently "Are-you-even-listening-to-me?!?" Yami knew that Marik had been through a lot lately. The man had lost his only remaining family and the one person that would ever be his friend only a few months ago. Yami had never really cared about the past present or future of those with slave blood in them, but the man could hardly help feeling sorry for Marik. He had been through a lot to only be fourteen.
Marik looked in the general direction of the pharaoh with a numb gaze. He had at least managed to understand the general gist of Yami's monologue. The pharaoh sensed an evil greater than anything Marik could imagine, and he knew that the only thing that could stop it was the combined power of the mellinium items. Yami had already located the six of the seven items, possessed one, and could demand and receive access to two more. The only ones he couldn't gain control of were the rod, the ring, and the necklace.
Marik would have liked things just as well had he never heard of the melinium items. The platinum hair was shaken further into his eyes as he looked cautiously at the melinum rod, propped in a corner of the room. He shuddered at the thought of the blade perched on the end of it. The young Egyptian had considered ending it all several times, using that blade. He also had scars all over his body from where he would, in a fury, try and murder himself in a much more gruesome method. Once he had almost bled to death after having done that.
When the landlord had come to collect the rent, he couldn't help but see Marik, laying on the floor with his skin in ribbons. He had been sent to the hospital and then to therapy. What the nurses thought was most remarkable about his case was that, apparently, he had been awake the entire time. They had also said that when they did the basic examination, no matter how much darkness or light they applied to his vision, Marik's pupils never dialated. In fact, they stayed so small as to seem invisible. They always did that when he was frightened, and as much as he didn't want to admit it, he was afraid to die.
"MARIK!!!" Yami screamed, having lost his patience "Are you AWARE that I am even speaking to you?!? If you cooperate you could save lives!!! Hundreds of thousands of lives." Yami angrily noted that Marik still seemed to be lost to the world. There was only one thing that would bring him out of this state of suspended animation, and Yami knew it. " Marik. If you help me with this, you could save hundreds of people a fate like that of Rishid, and hundreds more from suffering what you have to suffer."
Marik's mind had been lingering on his friends face. Before it had been spattered with blood and paled with death. Back when he actually had someone to laugh about his life with. Someone to goof off with. Someone to help him steal from the village vendors on the streets of Cairo so he wouldn't get caught. But with Yami's statement that whole world of blissful memories shattered like a window in a hurricane. The protective dams that Marik had put up to block his most painful memories broke into hundreds of shards and Rishid's pale, dead face all spattered with blood and hidden behind a mask of pain, flooded his mind.
The youth's throat tightened and his eyes clamped shut. He would not cry, he would especially not cry in front of the man that could take his very soul with a snap of his fingers. Marik's whole body convulsed and brought him tumbling out of his chair and onto the floor. Unable to stop himself, he inhaled a shuddering breath. When he exhaled a choking noise filled his head, and lunged the three feet to the trash can just as he threw up everything that he had apparently not thrown up earlier.
Yami frowned at the light haired slave. If the memories of his dead friend could do that to him. The slave did at least have honor, the one trait that Yami actually noticed in a human being. If he were in Egypt this kind of behavior would have been grounds for flogging or even death. When Marik slowly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and turned his head toward Yami, the pharaoh had no greater wish than to be somewhere else. The other man's eyes would have been alarming to anyone. The pupils were so small you could hardly see them, and they were so wide and blood shot that they didn't belong on any human. Shakily Marik picked up the melinium rod and stood to face the pharaoh.
"Pharaoh." Marik addressed Yami formally "You may have the melinium rod. But I will make sure that I play no role in this. These items have ruined my life once, and I don't have the slightest intention of letting them do so again." When Marik placed the point of the knife on his neck right below the ear Yami tensed, that is, as much as a rock could tense.
"Marik," Yami said cautiously as he took a slow step back and spread his hands " Are you SURE you want to do this? Don't do anything you'll regret later now." Though the ancient pharaoh didn't really care whether or not the slave boy died, his life as a leader wouldn't allow him to sit and do nothing in a situation such as this.
Marik saw the look of surprise on Yami's face and laughed to himself. He knew for a fact that his eyes were disturbing at the moment. He was more frightened than he had ever been in his entire life. Even more frightened than he had been the night that Rishid died. At a final thought of his deceased friend, Marik choked on another sob and took a deep breath.
"Pharaoh, I will not regret this." Marik mumbled, and before Yami could intervene ripped open the flesh from his neck to midway down his torso in one efficient slash. Yami would try to call the hospital before he could bleed to death and Marik knew that. He had to leave. Now. Throwing the bloody rod in the general vicinity of the pharaoh he stumbled for the door. Why was he having so much trouble with the door knob?
As Marik stumbled onto the stairway into the rain he ran straight into a girl. He knew her, but couldn't place a name. She had been with him before when he was in need. Why couldn't he remember?!? As he stumbled down the stairs and his feet hit the level ground of the sidewalk her arms steadied him and kept him from falling into the street.
Tea had been about to open the door to Marik's house. She had seen Yugi go in and was about to ring the bell, when Marik had stumbled out the door soaked in blood. She'd had no other choice but to catch him. If she hadn't have, he would've fallen into the road. Could Yugi have done this to him? Te'a was sure Yugi would never hurt a fly. but Yami was another person altogether.
Marik tried to twist away from the grip that was supporting him. He would rather fall than be held up by someone else. Why was he even fighting? He didn't want to fight any more. He WANTED to welcome the grip that held him safe, but his foolish pride wouldn't let him. He tilted his head so he could speak to the girl that held him from toppling over or stumbling drunkenly into the road.
".Thank you." He whispered. He had never thought he would say that to anyone, so why did he say it to this girl he couldn't even place a name to?
Te'a looked up in horror toward the doorway of Marik's apartment as the body of the Egyptian went limp in her arms, to see Yugi standing there, covered in blood and holding the murder weapon-Marik's own melinium rod.
Marik sat across the room Yami, his lavender gaze revealing that he wasn't really there. That was the only way he could stop thinking about Rishid. Marik shook his head slightly when the spirit of the ancient pharaoh mentioned his name in the one sided conversation further disarraying the birds nest of blond hair on his head. That was what his sister had said once. Marik's throat tightened at the thought of his sister.
"Marik!" Yami snapped impatiently "Are-you-even-listening-to-me?!?" Yami knew that Marik had been through a lot lately. The man had lost his only remaining family and the one person that would ever be his friend only a few months ago. Yami had never really cared about the past present or future of those with slave blood in them, but the man could hardly help feeling sorry for Marik. He had been through a lot to only be fourteen.
Marik looked in the general direction of the pharaoh with a numb gaze. He had at least managed to understand the general gist of Yami's monologue. The pharaoh sensed an evil greater than anything Marik could imagine, and he knew that the only thing that could stop it was the combined power of the mellinium items. Yami had already located the six of the seven items, possessed one, and could demand and receive access to two more. The only ones he couldn't gain control of were the rod, the ring, and the necklace.
Marik would have liked things just as well had he never heard of the melinium items. The platinum hair was shaken further into his eyes as he looked cautiously at the melinum rod, propped in a corner of the room. He shuddered at the thought of the blade perched on the end of it. The young Egyptian had considered ending it all several times, using that blade. He also had scars all over his body from where he would, in a fury, try and murder himself in a much more gruesome method. Once he had almost bled to death after having done that.
When the landlord had come to collect the rent, he couldn't help but see Marik, laying on the floor with his skin in ribbons. He had been sent to the hospital and then to therapy. What the nurses thought was most remarkable about his case was that, apparently, he had been awake the entire time. They had also said that when they did the basic examination, no matter how much darkness or light they applied to his vision, Marik's pupils never dialated. In fact, they stayed so small as to seem invisible. They always did that when he was frightened, and as much as he didn't want to admit it, he was afraid to die.
"MARIK!!!" Yami screamed, having lost his patience "Are you AWARE that I am even speaking to you?!? If you cooperate you could save lives!!! Hundreds of thousands of lives." Yami angrily noted that Marik still seemed to be lost to the world. There was only one thing that would bring him out of this state of suspended animation, and Yami knew it. " Marik. If you help me with this, you could save hundreds of people a fate like that of Rishid, and hundreds more from suffering what you have to suffer."
Marik's mind had been lingering on his friends face. Before it had been spattered with blood and paled with death. Back when he actually had someone to laugh about his life with. Someone to goof off with. Someone to help him steal from the village vendors on the streets of Cairo so he wouldn't get caught. But with Yami's statement that whole world of blissful memories shattered like a window in a hurricane. The protective dams that Marik had put up to block his most painful memories broke into hundreds of shards and Rishid's pale, dead face all spattered with blood and hidden behind a mask of pain, flooded his mind.
The youth's throat tightened and his eyes clamped shut. He would not cry, he would especially not cry in front of the man that could take his very soul with a snap of his fingers. Marik's whole body convulsed and brought him tumbling out of his chair and onto the floor. Unable to stop himself, he inhaled a shuddering breath. When he exhaled a choking noise filled his head, and lunged the three feet to the trash can just as he threw up everything that he had apparently not thrown up earlier.
Yami frowned at the light haired slave. If the memories of his dead friend could do that to him. The slave did at least have honor, the one trait that Yami actually noticed in a human being. If he were in Egypt this kind of behavior would have been grounds for flogging or even death. When Marik slowly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and turned his head toward Yami, the pharaoh had no greater wish than to be somewhere else. The other man's eyes would have been alarming to anyone. The pupils were so small you could hardly see them, and they were so wide and blood shot that they didn't belong on any human. Shakily Marik picked up the melinium rod and stood to face the pharaoh.
"Pharaoh." Marik addressed Yami formally "You may have the melinium rod. But I will make sure that I play no role in this. These items have ruined my life once, and I don't have the slightest intention of letting them do so again." When Marik placed the point of the knife on his neck right below the ear Yami tensed, that is, as much as a rock could tense.
"Marik," Yami said cautiously as he took a slow step back and spread his hands " Are you SURE you want to do this? Don't do anything you'll regret later now." Though the ancient pharaoh didn't really care whether or not the slave boy died, his life as a leader wouldn't allow him to sit and do nothing in a situation such as this.
Marik saw the look of surprise on Yami's face and laughed to himself. He knew for a fact that his eyes were disturbing at the moment. He was more frightened than he had ever been in his entire life. Even more frightened than he had been the night that Rishid died. At a final thought of his deceased friend, Marik choked on another sob and took a deep breath.
"Pharaoh, I will not regret this." Marik mumbled, and before Yami could intervene ripped open the flesh from his neck to midway down his torso in one efficient slash. Yami would try to call the hospital before he could bleed to death and Marik knew that. He had to leave. Now. Throwing the bloody rod in the general vicinity of the pharaoh he stumbled for the door. Why was he having so much trouble with the door knob?
As Marik stumbled onto the stairway into the rain he ran straight into a girl. He knew her, but couldn't place a name. She had been with him before when he was in need. Why couldn't he remember?!? As he stumbled down the stairs and his feet hit the level ground of the sidewalk her arms steadied him and kept him from falling into the street.
Tea had been about to open the door to Marik's house. She had seen Yugi go in and was about to ring the bell, when Marik had stumbled out the door soaked in blood. She'd had no other choice but to catch him. If she hadn't have, he would've fallen into the road. Could Yugi have done this to him? Te'a was sure Yugi would never hurt a fly. but Yami was another person altogether.
Marik tried to twist away from the grip that was supporting him. He would rather fall than be held up by someone else. Why was he even fighting? He didn't want to fight any more. He WANTED to welcome the grip that held him safe, but his foolish pride wouldn't let him. He tilted his head so he could speak to the girl that held him from toppling over or stumbling drunkenly into the road.
".Thank you." He whispered. He had never thought he would say that to anyone, so why did he say it to this girl he couldn't even place a name to?
Te'a looked up in horror toward the doorway of Marik's apartment as the body of the Egyptian went limp in her arms, to see Yugi standing there, covered in blood and holding the murder weapon-Marik's own melinium rod.