Fallen Angels—Chapter Eight: Nightmare Come True
By Lady Armandina
Disclaimer: I said it before, I'll say it again. I only own Adele. Noone else is mine. Raya is property of Anya (Go read her fan fics! They are great!) The song featured in this chapter, entitled "Dream In My Soul", is an original song written by me.
Author's Note: I know that many call Ryou the regular Bakura and Bakura the yami. I have switched it in my story, because that is what I have grown accustomed to. Sorry for any confusion!
Warning: This chapter has some blood and violence in it. It's nothing too serious, but if these things disturb you or you do not feel comfortable, please do not read on! I don't want anyone to be offended! I add these things only for an added effect in the story, I do not condone violence in any way!
Also—Everyone, thanks for the reviews! I love getting them and I really appreciate the encouragement! I hope I don't let you down!
~*~*~*~*~
The room was cold like death, dark like the deepest night. Bakura shivered as he glanced around him, not recognizing his surroundings but somehow knowing that he was somewhere within Adele's family mansion. The tall white alabaster walls rose high above his head and the marble floor showed the reflection of the large full moon that shone in from the French-style windows. He stood with his back against one of these cold walls, holding his arms around himself to keep warm.
Why was he here? The last thing he remembered was falling asleep in the huge four-poster bed in a guest room at the mansion after a lovely Christmas day spent with all his friends. They would be leaving in a few days, and had planned to spend the day in London tomorrow to do some sightseeing. Bakura had gone to bed a bit early, hoping to catch a full night's sleep for the next day's busy events. He had no idea where in the mansion he was now, it was too dark to see for sure.
Suddenly, the candelabra on the wall next to him lit up with flames on each of the three white candles it held. Bakura jumped back from the wall, staring fearfully at the candles above him. How did they light? Nobody was there in the room with him…at least that's what he thought.
Looking around him, he now recognized this room as the sitting room that connected to the front hall. He had only been here once, when they first arrived two days ago. He had admired how beautiful the room was with its tall French windows and long silk violet curtains that draped down on each side. A white grand piano with gold trim stood proudly in one corner of the room, similar in style to the large black piano that was nearby in the den. The room held two large gold-colored antique-style couches that were very comfortable to sit in, and on the far end of the room there was a large marble fireplace with a painting of a beautiful flame-haired woman above it. Bakura wondered if this woman was Adele's mother, but decided not to ask. A large ivory statue of a beautiful angel stood in the corner of the room closest to him. She wore a long robe-like dress and her hair appeared to be floating in an invisible breeze. Her facial expression seemed to be sad. This was a gorgeous room, but, again, what was he doing here?
"Hello?" Bakura whispered, his voice echoing loudly against the walls. It seemed there was nobody there with him, but he felt something eerie that told him differently. He decided he had probably been sleepwalking, and it would be best if he would just go back to his room and return to bed, pretending that this had never happened.
"Deaaaaaaath…" someone whispered suddenly. The voice seemed to come from nowhere, yet was everywhere at the same time. Bakura stumbled backwards, searching for the door handle to leave the room. He was so frightened, however, that his efforts only lead him directly into the corner adjacent to the angel statue. Clumsily, he slid down the wall, curling into fetal position as he watched the horrors before him…
The angel statue had suddenly seemed to come to life. Her wings began to flutter lightly back and forth, and Bakura noticed that instead of angel wings, now she had what were more like fairy wings instead. She had three sets of dainty, feathered wings on each side, flapping rapidly as if she were struggling to fly away. Her hair blew in a breeze that somehow was blowing throughout the entire room, and a drop of a blood-stained tear fell from one of her eyes. She looked directly at Bakura, still the heartbroken expression on her face, and lifted one arm to point at him.
"Murderer…" she whispered. Bakura was shaking now, doing all he could to remain as calm as possible.
"No…no…I wouldn't hurt anyone!"
The statue closed her eyes and brought her hands up to cover her face as though she were crying. And then, the beautiful white alabaster walls were suddenly covered in red, blood running down them in a nightmarish vision like he could never have imagined.
"No!!! Please, no!!! I would never hurt anyone! Noooooooooooooo…!"
~*~*~*~
Bakura sat up abruptly from the bed he lay in, his heart pounding violently in his chest and a cold sweat drenching his entire body. He gasped, trying to catch his breath and to make sense of the strange and terrible dream he had just awoken from. He couldn't understand why he had been having such hellish nightmares lately. It seemed that he would rather stay awake all night and suffer from the insomnia rather than face the terrors that his dreams would bring every night.
He rolled over and tore the blankets away from his body--it was so hot in here! He stood up, deciding that a drink of water might help cool him off a bit, when he realized that he was no longer in the room that he had fallen asleep in.
'Oh no! Just like the dream!'
But…this was not the downstairs sitting room. It was a bedroom, a child's bedroom it seemed, and most definitely one that belonged to a girl. He could tell by the light of the moon that shone in the window that the walls were painted a rosy pink color and the curtains on the window were of a fine, precious lace. The furniture in the room was of a light oak color and everywhere, literally everywhere, there were fairies. Fairy figurines, fairy dolls, even fairy bed sheets.
Bakura cringed. Fairies! The angel statue in his dream, it had seemed to transform into a fairy, and now he was surrounded by them! What did this mean? And how the hell did he get here? Nothing made any sense, yet, at the same time, it seemed as if there were something here at work that he knew nothing of. Something he could not understand and dared not try to.
You mean, you don't remember?
However, regardless of where he was or what was going on, he shouldn't be here, in this room. He thought he better leave, pretend this didn't happen, and find his own guest room that he was supposed to be sleeping in.
"I better fix the sheets here so it doesn't look like someone slept in them…" he muttered to himself, yanking the bed sheets up toward the pillows and tucking them under. As he pulled up the fluffy lavender feather comforter, something small and tattered fell from the bed and onto the floor at his feet. He stopped, curious, and picked it up, turning over the soft, cloth-like doll in his hands. Strange, something about this doll seemed familiar, and it wasn't how it looked that had caught his eye. It was more of a smell, a soft scent that the doll was traced with. It smelt like fresh strawberries, a scent that was once so familiar to him…
He threw the doll down on the bed, angry at the tirade of emotions that so suddenly invaded his mind. What was he feeling? Nothing made sense anymore. Distraught, he rushed out of the room, closing the door behind him, and leaned against the wall in the long hallway outside. He didn't know where he was, what he was doing anymore. He wanted to believe something about himself, anything, really, but he didn't know where to start. Something told him that he should start by figuring out the meaning of his dreams. Unfortunately, all that surrounded him right now was the emptiness of the dark.
Wait…
Something, a beautiful, melodic sound, sliced its way through the lonely darkness. This sound, this song, seemed to call to him, to comfort him, to tell him that everything would be all right. Just follow the sound…
It was coming from downstairs, he was certain of it. It was a piano, playing some beautiful tune that sounded like something from a distant memory, a far-away dream. He didn't know where the stairs were, this part of the house was strange to him, but somehow, the tune lead his feet to where he would find its source. He walked, slowly, softly, and found his way to the staircase, following the giant marble spiral downward, finding himself in the main hall.
That sound, that beautiful sound--it wasn't only a piano now. There was a voice accompanying the sweet, soulful melody, a voice he knew well.
"Adele…" he said, his voice barely a whisper. Turning the corner to the front sitting room, he stood in the doorway and watched as his friend, sitting in the candlelight, sat at the grand piano. She was wearing a pretty green velvet robe and her eyes were closed as she played her song and sang the words softly along…
"I believe in the truth of your heart
I can see all the pain and the tears that you hide locked away
When it feels like your soul is too far
Come to me with your dreams and we'll make them come true in some way"
Her words echoed hauntingly through the room and into the hall. Bakura was stunned. Though he knew he should not spy, her words and the harmony of the song together was too much to turn away from. Something held him there.
"Won't you take your hand in mine
And together we can dream
Til the end of time
We'll dream
Til the end of time
You know that I won't let you go"
What was this song? The melody, it was so unreal, so recognizable it seemed. He knew he had to have heard it before…
"You don't know what your heart means to me
How you've changed me and took me so far away from all the pain
I only want to hold you so close
Won't you let me please show you the feelings I hide every day"
But those words. He was sure he had not heard them before in his life.
"Cuz my heart is in your hands
And I want to tell you how
I feel for you now
I won't say goodbye cuz I don't know how
You know that I won't let you go…
"Every night you speak to me
In my dreams you are holding me
Loving me endlessly
Whispering our confessions
Your breath is on my face
Your eyes take me to another place…
"Someday my heart will speak to your own
And I hope that in my soul your love will find a sweet home
But until that day, I will wait
And I'll be here whenever you need me
Just say the words
And I will find a way
To your heart"
As she played the final notes to the song, Bakura closed his eyes, falling back into a memory, a memory so long ago forgotten, one he did not know he had anymore…
A girl, sitting at a black grand piano, playing a cheerful tune, smiling at Bakura…they were friends, good friends at that…until that day. He didn't know what went wrong, didn't understand what was happening to him when it happened. All he remembered was blacking out and then, when he had awakened, there she lay before, him, covered in blood, unconscious, on the ground. His friend, perhaps the only friend he had ever had at that point, gone…He remembered looking down at the blood on his hands, feeling more self-hatred than he ever believed possible. The doctors said she might recover someday. That someday never came. She remained in a coma until this very day, and Bakura could never forgive himself for it. He had stolen away the most precious moments of her life, moments she could never get back. Even if she did wake up now, it was too late.
That was four years ago, and to this day, Bakura still didn't understand how he could lose such control of his body like that. He knew it had something to do with his yami, and knew that he had to find a way to stop him, but he didn't know how. And there was still one question left unanswered in all of this…why? Why would his yami try to take the life of a young, harmless girl? She did nothing wrong, would never try to hurt anybody or anything. He couldn't understand what compelled his other self to do such a thing, and the spirit inside him would never give him an answer.
"Bakura?" the voice suddenly snapped him back into reality. "I didn't see you standing there. You scared me. Can't you sleep?"
Adele sat at the piano, looking over at Bakura, the expression on her face being of pure surprise. She almost looked embarrassed that he had heard her and blushed a little. Bakura wondered why. After all, he was the one who should feel embarrassed. He stood there in his blue plaid flannel pajamas, suddenly feeling quite silly to be spying on her in her own house.
"Oh, Adele, hello. I'm sorry I scared you. No, I had some trouble sleeping. I heard you playing the piano, and well…I'm sorry I intruded on your private time here…"
"No, no, don't be sorry. Please," she said, standing up from the piano seat and taking her place on one of the comfy gold couches near the window. "Join me for a bit."
Bakura followed her to the couch and sat across from her, shuddering a little as he realized this was the same room from his strange dream earlier. It was only a dream, he told himself. Only a dream…
"So, tell me, what's on your mind that you can't sleep? Is everything all right?"
"It's nothing, really, I guess." He started. "Just, you know, the same thing that is usually on my mind."
"And what is that?"
Bakura paused, not wanting to hear himself say the words. It seemed fruitless to talk about it again. Nothing ever made him feel any better. Instead, he chose a different route.
"Adele, can I ask you something?"
"Of course, anything. What is it?"
"You remember a few weeks ago? When we ran into each other near the park?"
Adele smiled and stifled a laugh. "Yes, you mean when you were wandering around town with your eyes closed?"
Bakura blushed. "Yes, that's it."
"What about it?"
"When we went back to your house and we were talking…you got a phone call."
Adele's cheerful expression dropped to a somber one. "Yes?"
"You seemed very upset about it. I wanted to ask you earlier, but it seems I have never had the chance to ask you alone before and I didn't feel right bringing it up in front of the others. Is everything all right?"
Adele put on what Bakura recognized as a pretend smile. "Of course, Bakura. You have no reason to worry, although that's very sweet."
"You can't beat me at my own game, Adele."
"Excuse me?"
"I can tell that you're not all right. You haven't quite been yourself lately. I've noticed a certain sadness to your eyes. You try to hide it from everyone, but I know it all too well because I do the same thing."
"What are you talking about?"
"You're hiding your feelings, Adele. I know how difficult it can be to not have anyone to talk to about these things. You've always been a kind friend to me, I want to return the favor."
Adele looked downwards, her false smile fading into a worried frown. She dared not look Bakura in the eyes, knowing full well that what he said was true. She didn't want anyone to worry about her. There wasn't any need to, she had always been on her own before…
"I'm fine, Bakura. It's you who I worry about."
"Me? No, I don't believe that."
"Yes, I worry about you. Every day, I wonder what I can do to make you see what a wonderful person you are! I think you're absolutely beautiful, in every way, and I wish that you could see yourself through my eyes!"
Bakura thought about what she said for a moment. He realized, of course, that what she said was probably true, but he wasn't going to let her win like that.
"What about you, Adele? You want nobody to be there for you, yet you insist that you be there for everybody else! I worry about you as well! I know that there is so much on your mind, so much that you won't tell any of us, and I can't understand why."
"Oh really?" she questioned. "And just what is on my mind, since you know so much about me?"
"Your father, for example." he replied, instantly striking a nerve. She was taken aback, her eyes widened in surprise. How could he guess such a thing?
"My…father?"
"Yes. I remember you telling me how anxious you were to see him when we all came here for Christmas. You said you hadn't seen him for such a long time and missed him a lot. You were really looking forward to spending some time with him."
"Yes, so?"
"So we get here and he's nowhere to be seen, not a trace. And you offer no explanation as to where he is, not wanting to bring up the topic. Ignorance is bliss, right Adele?"
"I don't understand, where is all this coming from? Why are you bringing this up?" she said, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.
"Because, Adele," Bakura said, the tone of his voice filled with compassion. "We care about you. I care about you. I want to help."
Adele looked up, her eyes glossed over with the beginning of a tear. She stared at Bakura sadly, touched by his persistence. This was very unlike him, to be so stubborn. She wondered where this new determination came from.
"Bakura, I—" she started, not knowing where to find the words. "I want to help you too."
Bakura smiled, placing one hand on her shoulder. "Looks like we both have a problem, don't we? We're both too stubborn!"
"Then maybe we can help each other."
"Come again?"
"We make a promise." She said, taking one of Bakura's hands in her own and clutching it tightly. "You help me, I help you. We do this together, as friends, as confidantes."
Bakura smiled, squeezing her small hand in response. "I like that idea."
"But we have to promise each other, okay? No more secrets. If something is on one of our minds, we tell each other, we talk about it, we try to feel better about it."
"I can't promise you I'll be very good at this whole thing, but I can promise to try."
Adele smiled, finally, and lightly touched Bakura's hand against her lips. "That's all I ask for."
They stared at each other a moment, both realizing what an awkward moment this truly was. Each of them were used to holding all their feelings inside, to taking care their selves and not depending on anyone else. To take such a step, it seemed unnatural, yet, at the same time, inevitable. Everybody needs somebody sometimes, right? Just when the silence seemed to be taking over, Adele spoke.
"You know, I've been thinking."
"About what?"
"About you. About your guilt over your other self. I was thinking about it in comparison to a poem I read once."
"A poem?"
"It's called 'Prometheus Unbound', by Percy Bysshe Shelley. I'm sure you've heard of him."
"He's one of the greatest British writers of all time, yes, I've read some of his works, but I can't say I recognize the name of this poem you speak of."
"It's about the mythological character of Prometheus. You know his story? He's the one who stole fire from the gods and so, in punishment, he was placed on top of a mountain and chained there for all eternity, and every day he would be eaten alive by birds."
"Yes, a very vulgar story."
"Yes, but also very symbolic. You see, because the birds that eat away at him every day can be much like something that bothers us every day, something that we have to conquer."
"What is your point?"
"In this poem, Prometheus is depressed and miserable about his bad luck and he wants so desperately to be free from his punishment. One day, he has a change of heart. He decides not to look upon his situation in such a dreary light anymore. He regains hope that someday he will be free, and truly believes that everything will be okay again. This same time is the turning point for him because it's the first step in his release. Once he accepts his fate and looks upon it in a brighter light, it gives his ex-love Asia a chance to take steps to release him. In the end, he is happy and free from his punishment."
"So what you're saying is that it's not how a situation treats us, but rather, how we treat the situation?"
"Exactly. Sometimes, it's all about how you view the situation. Pessimism will only make things worse than they need to be. If one is optimistic, they can feel the motivation to do something about their situation, to change it for the better."
"That's very interesting, but what does this have to do with me?"
"This situation with your yami. You feel miserable about it, you hate yourself for it. Until you learn to forgive yourself and realize that you can fight this, you are not going to be able to do anything about it. You need to start within yourself rather than on the outside."
"What do you suggest I do?"
"Smile."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said you should smile more often. You really have a wonderful smile."
Bakura blushed. "Thank you. And thank you for the story as well. I'm not sure I would find myself a likely comparison to a Greek hero, but I'm flattered nonetheless."
"Just think about what I said, okay?"
"I will, Adele. I promise. But in the meantime, what about you?"
"What about me?"
"Are you okay? I know you must be upset about your father not being here."
"Oh, yes. Well, that is the least of what is on my mind, but yes, that is disappointing. He left me a message on my cell phone the day we were to leave on the plane for England. He said he got called away to an important business meeting and could not avoid it. He apologized for not being able to join us, but insisted we all still come and spend Christmas here anyway."
"That was very nice of him. How do you feel about this, though?"
"I'm all right, actually. I'm used to not seeing my father for long periods of time. As a child, we didn't live together."
"You didn't?"
"No. I was very sick as a child and had to stay at a hospital in London where they could take care of me. I was there for most of my young life. It wasn't until I was about 13 years old that I went out on my own."
"I'm so sorry to hear that, Adele. So I assume you and your father are not very close?"
"No, not really. There is an unspoken distance between us that I've never been able to cross. I can't quite explain it."
"I think I understand. My father and I, we don't speak much either. Our family used to be much closer, but we haven't been for years. After my mother died, everything changed so much."
"Wow, your mother died too? I lost my mother as well, although I was very young and I can hardly remember her. In fact, that is her portrait hanging above the fireplace there." Adele said, motioning to the large painting of the red-haired woman he remembered from before. "She was said to have been a brilliant woman with a passion for helping others. My father was a very selective man when it came to choosing a wife. He never had any patience with women because they all seemed to want to marry him for his money. But then he met my mother and fell madly in love with her." She laughed musingly to herself. "Sounds like a fairy-tale, doesn't it?"
"I did not know that you lost your mother. It seems you and I have much more in common than we previously understood."
"That we do," she responded, smiling joyfully at him. She found herself feeling so much happier than before, sitting here with him. She was feeling very sad earlier today, thinking about how different things could be if her father were here, if this Christmas they could have been a family. But now, Bakura found a way to cheer her up. He always seemed to find a way to bring a smile to her face, happiness to her heart. She prayed he didn't know, didn't realize. She would just die if he did! After all, how ridiculous would it be if she were to tell him that—
*Whiiirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr*
Suddenly, alarms sounded throughout the house, awakening and frightening everyone within. Adele jumped up from her seat on the couch, her eyes large and round with fear.
"Oh no!" she screamed, trying to pull away from Bakura, who still clutched her hand. "We have to get out of here!"
"What is it? A fire alarm?"
"No! It means there are intruders! It could be dangerous! If we don't get—"
*SMASH*
The window broke into a thousand pieces and tiny shards of glass came crashing down on top of them as three loud gunshots were fired from Adele's front lawn. Adele ducked, trying to protect herself from the broken glass, but Bakura immediately jumped on top of her, knocking her to the ground, where he covered her body with his own, praying that he sheltered her from whatever or whoever it was that was trying to harm them.
"Adele, hang on." He said, trying to yell over the loudness of the alarms. "If we just stay down here until the police arrive, we should be okay!"
The sound of the alarms was deafening and Bakura hoped that the others were safe upstairs in their respective guest rooms. Lying here where they were somewhat blocked from the height of the couch in front of them felt safer than trying to run away where the shooter could certainly take aim upon them. Bakura wondered who on earth would be shooting at Adele's house, and why. She looked so terrified moments before, almost as if she knew who it was that was attacking, yet she didn't mention anyone's name. That's when it struck him. Adele had not said a single word, she was not even moving.
Surely she would fight with him, tell him they had to get out of there, tell him that at least he had to get out of there. These were things he would expect from her. He did not expect Adele to lie there, quiet and still, almost like a doll. He didn't think it was strange at first when there was no response. After all, he could barely hear himself think over the sound of the alarms. But the lifeless feeling of her body beneath him was what made him really think twice.
"Adele? Adele, answer me? Are you all right?"
He turned over her body in some attempt to get a response out of her and felt something wet on his hands. Turning her over face-up revealed the source--all he could see was blood! It was running down her face in tiny rivulets, coming from what appeared to be a deep wound on the top of her head. There was so much of it! Bakura panicked. The gunshots…could one of them have?
"Adele, no! Oh my God, no!"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sparky16—thanks for all the reviews and encouragement! Let me know what you think, I value your opinion!
Anya—you must post new chappies now! Please! How else do you expect me to make it over Christmas break?
He he he…let me know what you think…--LA
By Lady Armandina
Disclaimer: I said it before, I'll say it again. I only own Adele. Noone else is mine. Raya is property of Anya (Go read her fan fics! They are great!) The song featured in this chapter, entitled "Dream In My Soul", is an original song written by me.
Author's Note: I know that many call Ryou the regular Bakura and Bakura the yami. I have switched it in my story, because that is what I have grown accustomed to. Sorry for any confusion!
Warning: This chapter has some blood and violence in it. It's nothing too serious, but if these things disturb you or you do not feel comfortable, please do not read on! I don't want anyone to be offended! I add these things only for an added effect in the story, I do not condone violence in any way!
Also—Everyone, thanks for the reviews! I love getting them and I really appreciate the encouragement! I hope I don't let you down!
~*~*~*~*~
The room was cold like death, dark like the deepest night. Bakura shivered as he glanced around him, not recognizing his surroundings but somehow knowing that he was somewhere within Adele's family mansion. The tall white alabaster walls rose high above his head and the marble floor showed the reflection of the large full moon that shone in from the French-style windows. He stood with his back against one of these cold walls, holding his arms around himself to keep warm.
Why was he here? The last thing he remembered was falling asleep in the huge four-poster bed in a guest room at the mansion after a lovely Christmas day spent with all his friends. They would be leaving in a few days, and had planned to spend the day in London tomorrow to do some sightseeing. Bakura had gone to bed a bit early, hoping to catch a full night's sleep for the next day's busy events. He had no idea where in the mansion he was now, it was too dark to see for sure.
Suddenly, the candelabra on the wall next to him lit up with flames on each of the three white candles it held. Bakura jumped back from the wall, staring fearfully at the candles above him. How did they light? Nobody was there in the room with him…at least that's what he thought.
Looking around him, he now recognized this room as the sitting room that connected to the front hall. He had only been here once, when they first arrived two days ago. He had admired how beautiful the room was with its tall French windows and long silk violet curtains that draped down on each side. A white grand piano with gold trim stood proudly in one corner of the room, similar in style to the large black piano that was nearby in the den. The room held two large gold-colored antique-style couches that were very comfortable to sit in, and on the far end of the room there was a large marble fireplace with a painting of a beautiful flame-haired woman above it. Bakura wondered if this woman was Adele's mother, but decided not to ask. A large ivory statue of a beautiful angel stood in the corner of the room closest to him. She wore a long robe-like dress and her hair appeared to be floating in an invisible breeze. Her facial expression seemed to be sad. This was a gorgeous room, but, again, what was he doing here?
"Hello?" Bakura whispered, his voice echoing loudly against the walls. It seemed there was nobody there with him, but he felt something eerie that told him differently. He decided he had probably been sleepwalking, and it would be best if he would just go back to his room and return to bed, pretending that this had never happened.
"Deaaaaaaath…" someone whispered suddenly. The voice seemed to come from nowhere, yet was everywhere at the same time. Bakura stumbled backwards, searching for the door handle to leave the room. He was so frightened, however, that his efforts only lead him directly into the corner adjacent to the angel statue. Clumsily, he slid down the wall, curling into fetal position as he watched the horrors before him…
The angel statue had suddenly seemed to come to life. Her wings began to flutter lightly back and forth, and Bakura noticed that instead of angel wings, now she had what were more like fairy wings instead. She had three sets of dainty, feathered wings on each side, flapping rapidly as if she were struggling to fly away. Her hair blew in a breeze that somehow was blowing throughout the entire room, and a drop of a blood-stained tear fell from one of her eyes. She looked directly at Bakura, still the heartbroken expression on her face, and lifted one arm to point at him.
"Murderer…" she whispered. Bakura was shaking now, doing all he could to remain as calm as possible.
"No…no…I wouldn't hurt anyone!"
The statue closed her eyes and brought her hands up to cover her face as though she were crying. And then, the beautiful white alabaster walls were suddenly covered in red, blood running down them in a nightmarish vision like he could never have imagined.
"No!!! Please, no!!! I would never hurt anyone! Noooooooooooooo…!"
~*~*~*~
Bakura sat up abruptly from the bed he lay in, his heart pounding violently in his chest and a cold sweat drenching his entire body. He gasped, trying to catch his breath and to make sense of the strange and terrible dream he had just awoken from. He couldn't understand why he had been having such hellish nightmares lately. It seemed that he would rather stay awake all night and suffer from the insomnia rather than face the terrors that his dreams would bring every night.
He rolled over and tore the blankets away from his body--it was so hot in here! He stood up, deciding that a drink of water might help cool him off a bit, when he realized that he was no longer in the room that he had fallen asleep in.
'Oh no! Just like the dream!'
But…this was not the downstairs sitting room. It was a bedroom, a child's bedroom it seemed, and most definitely one that belonged to a girl. He could tell by the light of the moon that shone in the window that the walls were painted a rosy pink color and the curtains on the window were of a fine, precious lace. The furniture in the room was of a light oak color and everywhere, literally everywhere, there were fairies. Fairy figurines, fairy dolls, even fairy bed sheets.
Bakura cringed. Fairies! The angel statue in his dream, it had seemed to transform into a fairy, and now he was surrounded by them! What did this mean? And how the hell did he get here? Nothing made any sense, yet, at the same time, it seemed as if there were something here at work that he knew nothing of. Something he could not understand and dared not try to.
You mean, you don't remember?
However, regardless of where he was or what was going on, he shouldn't be here, in this room. He thought he better leave, pretend this didn't happen, and find his own guest room that he was supposed to be sleeping in.
"I better fix the sheets here so it doesn't look like someone slept in them…" he muttered to himself, yanking the bed sheets up toward the pillows and tucking them under. As he pulled up the fluffy lavender feather comforter, something small and tattered fell from the bed and onto the floor at his feet. He stopped, curious, and picked it up, turning over the soft, cloth-like doll in his hands. Strange, something about this doll seemed familiar, and it wasn't how it looked that had caught his eye. It was more of a smell, a soft scent that the doll was traced with. It smelt like fresh strawberries, a scent that was once so familiar to him…
He threw the doll down on the bed, angry at the tirade of emotions that so suddenly invaded his mind. What was he feeling? Nothing made sense anymore. Distraught, he rushed out of the room, closing the door behind him, and leaned against the wall in the long hallway outside. He didn't know where he was, what he was doing anymore. He wanted to believe something about himself, anything, really, but he didn't know where to start. Something told him that he should start by figuring out the meaning of his dreams. Unfortunately, all that surrounded him right now was the emptiness of the dark.
Wait…
Something, a beautiful, melodic sound, sliced its way through the lonely darkness. This sound, this song, seemed to call to him, to comfort him, to tell him that everything would be all right. Just follow the sound…
It was coming from downstairs, he was certain of it. It was a piano, playing some beautiful tune that sounded like something from a distant memory, a far-away dream. He didn't know where the stairs were, this part of the house was strange to him, but somehow, the tune lead his feet to where he would find its source. He walked, slowly, softly, and found his way to the staircase, following the giant marble spiral downward, finding himself in the main hall.
That sound, that beautiful sound--it wasn't only a piano now. There was a voice accompanying the sweet, soulful melody, a voice he knew well.
"Adele…" he said, his voice barely a whisper. Turning the corner to the front sitting room, he stood in the doorway and watched as his friend, sitting in the candlelight, sat at the grand piano. She was wearing a pretty green velvet robe and her eyes were closed as she played her song and sang the words softly along…
"I believe in the truth of your heart
I can see all the pain and the tears that you hide locked away
When it feels like your soul is too far
Come to me with your dreams and we'll make them come true in some way"
Her words echoed hauntingly through the room and into the hall. Bakura was stunned. Though he knew he should not spy, her words and the harmony of the song together was too much to turn away from. Something held him there.
"Won't you take your hand in mine
And together we can dream
Til the end of time
We'll dream
Til the end of time
You know that I won't let you go"
What was this song? The melody, it was so unreal, so recognizable it seemed. He knew he had to have heard it before…
"You don't know what your heart means to me
How you've changed me and took me so far away from all the pain
I only want to hold you so close
Won't you let me please show you the feelings I hide every day"
But those words. He was sure he had not heard them before in his life.
"Cuz my heart is in your hands
And I want to tell you how
I feel for you now
I won't say goodbye cuz I don't know how
You know that I won't let you go…
"Every night you speak to me
In my dreams you are holding me
Loving me endlessly
Whispering our confessions
Your breath is on my face
Your eyes take me to another place…
"Someday my heart will speak to your own
And I hope that in my soul your love will find a sweet home
But until that day, I will wait
And I'll be here whenever you need me
Just say the words
And I will find a way
To your heart"
As she played the final notes to the song, Bakura closed his eyes, falling back into a memory, a memory so long ago forgotten, one he did not know he had anymore…
A girl, sitting at a black grand piano, playing a cheerful tune, smiling at Bakura…they were friends, good friends at that…until that day. He didn't know what went wrong, didn't understand what was happening to him when it happened. All he remembered was blacking out and then, when he had awakened, there she lay before, him, covered in blood, unconscious, on the ground. His friend, perhaps the only friend he had ever had at that point, gone…He remembered looking down at the blood on his hands, feeling more self-hatred than he ever believed possible. The doctors said she might recover someday. That someday never came. She remained in a coma until this very day, and Bakura could never forgive himself for it. He had stolen away the most precious moments of her life, moments she could never get back. Even if she did wake up now, it was too late.
That was four years ago, and to this day, Bakura still didn't understand how he could lose such control of his body like that. He knew it had something to do with his yami, and knew that he had to find a way to stop him, but he didn't know how. And there was still one question left unanswered in all of this…why? Why would his yami try to take the life of a young, harmless girl? She did nothing wrong, would never try to hurt anybody or anything. He couldn't understand what compelled his other self to do such a thing, and the spirit inside him would never give him an answer.
"Bakura?" the voice suddenly snapped him back into reality. "I didn't see you standing there. You scared me. Can't you sleep?"
Adele sat at the piano, looking over at Bakura, the expression on her face being of pure surprise. She almost looked embarrassed that he had heard her and blushed a little. Bakura wondered why. After all, he was the one who should feel embarrassed. He stood there in his blue plaid flannel pajamas, suddenly feeling quite silly to be spying on her in her own house.
"Oh, Adele, hello. I'm sorry I scared you. No, I had some trouble sleeping. I heard you playing the piano, and well…I'm sorry I intruded on your private time here…"
"No, no, don't be sorry. Please," she said, standing up from the piano seat and taking her place on one of the comfy gold couches near the window. "Join me for a bit."
Bakura followed her to the couch and sat across from her, shuddering a little as he realized this was the same room from his strange dream earlier. It was only a dream, he told himself. Only a dream…
"So, tell me, what's on your mind that you can't sleep? Is everything all right?"
"It's nothing, really, I guess." He started. "Just, you know, the same thing that is usually on my mind."
"And what is that?"
Bakura paused, not wanting to hear himself say the words. It seemed fruitless to talk about it again. Nothing ever made him feel any better. Instead, he chose a different route.
"Adele, can I ask you something?"
"Of course, anything. What is it?"
"You remember a few weeks ago? When we ran into each other near the park?"
Adele smiled and stifled a laugh. "Yes, you mean when you were wandering around town with your eyes closed?"
Bakura blushed. "Yes, that's it."
"What about it?"
"When we went back to your house and we were talking…you got a phone call."
Adele's cheerful expression dropped to a somber one. "Yes?"
"You seemed very upset about it. I wanted to ask you earlier, but it seems I have never had the chance to ask you alone before and I didn't feel right bringing it up in front of the others. Is everything all right?"
Adele put on what Bakura recognized as a pretend smile. "Of course, Bakura. You have no reason to worry, although that's very sweet."
"You can't beat me at my own game, Adele."
"Excuse me?"
"I can tell that you're not all right. You haven't quite been yourself lately. I've noticed a certain sadness to your eyes. You try to hide it from everyone, but I know it all too well because I do the same thing."
"What are you talking about?"
"You're hiding your feelings, Adele. I know how difficult it can be to not have anyone to talk to about these things. You've always been a kind friend to me, I want to return the favor."
Adele looked downwards, her false smile fading into a worried frown. She dared not look Bakura in the eyes, knowing full well that what he said was true. She didn't want anyone to worry about her. There wasn't any need to, she had always been on her own before…
"I'm fine, Bakura. It's you who I worry about."
"Me? No, I don't believe that."
"Yes, I worry about you. Every day, I wonder what I can do to make you see what a wonderful person you are! I think you're absolutely beautiful, in every way, and I wish that you could see yourself through my eyes!"
Bakura thought about what she said for a moment. He realized, of course, that what she said was probably true, but he wasn't going to let her win like that.
"What about you, Adele? You want nobody to be there for you, yet you insist that you be there for everybody else! I worry about you as well! I know that there is so much on your mind, so much that you won't tell any of us, and I can't understand why."
"Oh really?" she questioned. "And just what is on my mind, since you know so much about me?"
"Your father, for example." he replied, instantly striking a nerve. She was taken aback, her eyes widened in surprise. How could he guess such a thing?
"My…father?"
"Yes. I remember you telling me how anxious you were to see him when we all came here for Christmas. You said you hadn't seen him for such a long time and missed him a lot. You were really looking forward to spending some time with him."
"Yes, so?"
"So we get here and he's nowhere to be seen, not a trace. And you offer no explanation as to where he is, not wanting to bring up the topic. Ignorance is bliss, right Adele?"
"I don't understand, where is all this coming from? Why are you bringing this up?" she said, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.
"Because, Adele," Bakura said, the tone of his voice filled with compassion. "We care about you. I care about you. I want to help."
Adele looked up, her eyes glossed over with the beginning of a tear. She stared at Bakura sadly, touched by his persistence. This was very unlike him, to be so stubborn. She wondered where this new determination came from.
"Bakura, I—" she started, not knowing where to find the words. "I want to help you too."
Bakura smiled, placing one hand on her shoulder. "Looks like we both have a problem, don't we? We're both too stubborn!"
"Then maybe we can help each other."
"Come again?"
"We make a promise." She said, taking one of Bakura's hands in her own and clutching it tightly. "You help me, I help you. We do this together, as friends, as confidantes."
Bakura smiled, squeezing her small hand in response. "I like that idea."
"But we have to promise each other, okay? No more secrets. If something is on one of our minds, we tell each other, we talk about it, we try to feel better about it."
"I can't promise you I'll be very good at this whole thing, but I can promise to try."
Adele smiled, finally, and lightly touched Bakura's hand against her lips. "That's all I ask for."
They stared at each other a moment, both realizing what an awkward moment this truly was. Each of them were used to holding all their feelings inside, to taking care their selves and not depending on anyone else. To take such a step, it seemed unnatural, yet, at the same time, inevitable. Everybody needs somebody sometimes, right? Just when the silence seemed to be taking over, Adele spoke.
"You know, I've been thinking."
"About what?"
"About you. About your guilt over your other self. I was thinking about it in comparison to a poem I read once."
"A poem?"
"It's called 'Prometheus Unbound', by Percy Bysshe Shelley. I'm sure you've heard of him."
"He's one of the greatest British writers of all time, yes, I've read some of his works, but I can't say I recognize the name of this poem you speak of."
"It's about the mythological character of Prometheus. You know his story? He's the one who stole fire from the gods and so, in punishment, he was placed on top of a mountain and chained there for all eternity, and every day he would be eaten alive by birds."
"Yes, a very vulgar story."
"Yes, but also very symbolic. You see, because the birds that eat away at him every day can be much like something that bothers us every day, something that we have to conquer."
"What is your point?"
"In this poem, Prometheus is depressed and miserable about his bad luck and he wants so desperately to be free from his punishment. One day, he has a change of heart. He decides not to look upon his situation in such a dreary light anymore. He regains hope that someday he will be free, and truly believes that everything will be okay again. This same time is the turning point for him because it's the first step in his release. Once he accepts his fate and looks upon it in a brighter light, it gives his ex-love Asia a chance to take steps to release him. In the end, he is happy and free from his punishment."
"So what you're saying is that it's not how a situation treats us, but rather, how we treat the situation?"
"Exactly. Sometimes, it's all about how you view the situation. Pessimism will only make things worse than they need to be. If one is optimistic, they can feel the motivation to do something about their situation, to change it for the better."
"That's very interesting, but what does this have to do with me?"
"This situation with your yami. You feel miserable about it, you hate yourself for it. Until you learn to forgive yourself and realize that you can fight this, you are not going to be able to do anything about it. You need to start within yourself rather than on the outside."
"What do you suggest I do?"
"Smile."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said you should smile more often. You really have a wonderful smile."
Bakura blushed. "Thank you. And thank you for the story as well. I'm not sure I would find myself a likely comparison to a Greek hero, but I'm flattered nonetheless."
"Just think about what I said, okay?"
"I will, Adele. I promise. But in the meantime, what about you?"
"What about me?"
"Are you okay? I know you must be upset about your father not being here."
"Oh, yes. Well, that is the least of what is on my mind, but yes, that is disappointing. He left me a message on my cell phone the day we were to leave on the plane for England. He said he got called away to an important business meeting and could not avoid it. He apologized for not being able to join us, but insisted we all still come and spend Christmas here anyway."
"That was very nice of him. How do you feel about this, though?"
"I'm all right, actually. I'm used to not seeing my father for long periods of time. As a child, we didn't live together."
"You didn't?"
"No. I was very sick as a child and had to stay at a hospital in London where they could take care of me. I was there for most of my young life. It wasn't until I was about 13 years old that I went out on my own."
"I'm so sorry to hear that, Adele. So I assume you and your father are not very close?"
"No, not really. There is an unspoken distance between us that I've never been able to cross. I can't quite explain it."
"I think I understand. My father and I, we don't speak much either. Our family used to be much closer, but we haven't been for years. After my mother died, everything changed so much."
"Wow, your mother died too? I lost my mother as well, although I was very young and I can hardly remember her. In fact, that is her portrait hanging above the fireplace there." Adele said, motioning to the large painting of the red-haired woman he remembered from before. "She was said to have been a brilliant woman with a passion for helping others. My father was a very selective man when it came to choosing a wife. He never had any patience with women because they all seemed to want to marry him for his money. But then he met my mother and fell madly in love with her." She laughed musingly to herself. "Sounds like a fairy-tale, doesn't it?"
"I did not know that you lost your mother. It seems you and I have much more in common than we previously understood."
"That we do," she responded, smiling joyfully at him. She found herself feeling so much happier than before, sitting here with him. She was feeling very sad earlier today, thinking about how different things could be if her father were here, if this Christmas they could have been a family. But now, Bakura found a way to cheer her up. He always seemed to find a way to bring a smile to her face, happiness to her heart. She prayed he didn't know, didn't realize. She would just die if he did! After all, how ridiculous would it be if she were to tell him that—
*Whiiirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr*
Suddenly, alarms sounded throughout the house, awakening and frightening everyone within. Adele jumped up from her seat on the couch, her eyes large and round with fear.
"Oh no!" she screamed, trying to pull away from Bakura, who still clutched her hand. "We have to get out of here!"
"What is it? A fire alarm?"
"No! It means there are intruders! It could be dangerous! If we don't get—"
*SMASH*
The window broke into a thousand pieces and tiny shards of glass came crashing down on top of them as three loud gunshots were fired from Adele's front lawn. Adele ducked, trying to protect herself from the broken glass, but Bakura immediately jumped on top of her, knocking her to the ground, where he covered her body with his own, praying that he sheltered her from whatever or whoever it was that was trying to harm them.
"Adele, hang on." He said, trying to yell over the loudness of the alarms. "If we just stay down here until the police arrive, we should be okay!"
The sound of the alarms was deafening and Bakura hoped that the others were safe upstairs in their respective guest rooms. Lying here where they were somewhat blocked from the height of the couch in front of them felt safer than trying to run away where the shooter could certainly take aim upon them. Bakura wondered who on earth would be shooting at Adele's house, and why. She looked so terrified moments before, almost as if she knew who it was that was attacking, yet she didn't mention anyone's name. That's when it struck him. Adele had not said a single word, she was not even moving.
Surely she would fight with him, tell him they had to get out of there, tell him that at least he had to get out of there. These were things he would expect from her. He did not expect Adele to lie there, quiet and still, almost like a doll. He didn't think it was strange at first when there was no response. After all, he could barely hear himself think over the sound of the alarms. But the lifeless feeling of her body beneath him was what made him really think twice.
"Adele? Adele, answer me? Are you all right?"
He turned over her body in some attempt to get a response out of her and felt something wet on his hands. Turning her over face-up revealed the source--all he could see was blood! It was running down her face in tiny rivulets, coming from what appeared to be a deep wound on the top of her head. There was so much of it! Bakura panicked. The gunshots…could one of them have?
"Adele, no! Oh my God, no!"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sparky16—thanks for all the reviews and encouragement! Let me know what you think, I value your opinion!
Anya—you must post new chappies now! Please! How else do you expect me to make it over Christmas break?
He he he…let me know what you think…--LA