This is a bit of a depressing story about Ryou Bakura, I even hope that
there will be a happy ending, but don't fear. ^^
If you don't like depressing stories, please don't read and don't flame because I have warned you. As I said in my last story, I don't appreciate snobby people who think they are better than me. I know these seems harsh to say, but don't review unless it's a flame to help, a review of complement or a question.
I love to write and I won't give up. No matter how many people say I am not good enough, I promised myself that I would improve and become a author when older and I tend to succeed.
I am not going to use Japanese names like Anzu (that's if these other characters are going into this story) like some one said that I should do. This is a story of mine and its kind of less confusing for others.
Please enjoy and review! ^^
~*~ Blood ~*~
Blood dripped off my arms and legs, but I couldn't remember why. I'm sitting here in my chair, curled up in a ball, even though it brought anguish pain. My eyes were unfocused and filled with tears again. Why was I so weak and pathetic? I don't deserve to live nor breathe air. I should end my life like any miserable person does to them self.
My eyes snapped to the silver knife on the kitchen counter, dripping with crimson liquid.my crimson liquid, my blood.
I could feel these hot tears running down my cheeks again, I feel so ashamed. Maybe I do deserve this, a punishment from god, or maybe Hell. This life is awful, it sucks, sucks bad. My hand consciously held my new open wound on my arm, great, new wounds.
I could feel the eyes of my yami, the cruel eyes burning at the back of my head. His smirk playing across his features, the features that look so much like mine, but so different at the same time.The opposite, darkness and light, Light and darkness.
I hate him; I hate his existence, his smirk, his eyes, and every thing. Who would have guessed that my other half, my yami that is half of my soul, gave me these very wounds? So this was what it's like being abused. In lessons we use to have to go on NSPCC on the internet, abused children. I always wondered what it would be like to be an abused child, but never like this.
My mother and Father downstairs watching television, not knowing what is being inflicted upon me. How can they be so clueless? Not asking why I limp down the stairs, why I cover an eye, why I always wear long sleeved shirts, even in the hottest summers.
I hate them, I hate every one.
I felt the presence of my Yami leave me be. A sigh of relief left my lips as I realised I had been holding my breath.How pathetic and worthless can I possibly get?
"Ryou, do you want you're dinner?" my mother called from downstairs. Oh, so now they know I am here, living, just barely by a thread. I couldn't trust my own voice and decided to ignore her attempts to get me to eat or reply. She can go to Hell.no.I want to go to hell, or some where that doesn't involve me living.
My eye travelled to the clock on my bed stand. It was 5pm.just great, I feel so tired, so very tired. Maybe it's the blood lose.I can see the puddle beneath my chair now.Look at it. Dark blood of mine was swirling around in that puddle. The coppery taste of it made him shudder in disgust as I licked my dry lips.
Eerie silence filled the house, well, not silence, but close enough. You could hear the buzzing of electric, my own breathing as well as my drip drop of my blood colliding on the floor. I felt so helpless, so weak.a feeling of anger bubbling within me.
How dare Bakura hurt me, I have rights, I have a life. My confidence seemed to grow as my mind began to expand with thoughts I never knew of.
Who does he think he is?
Why should I get hurt?
I have a heart, don't I have the right?
Why should I put up with it?
I jumped as a cold hand slithered up my back, warm breath smothering my neck. The cold voice of my abuser, my darker half, my Yami whispered into my sensitive ear.
"Because my little aibou, you are nothing" and that's when I felt fangs sink into my flesh.
~*~ blood ~*~
So what did you think? Please review to tell me if there was something wrong.
If you don't like depressing stories, please don't read and don't flame because I have warned you. As I said in my last story, I don't appreciate snobby people who think they are better than me. I know these seems harsh to say, but don't review unless it's a flame to help, a review of complement or a question.
I love to write and I won't give up. No matter how many people say I am not good enough, I promised myself that I would improve and become a author when older and I tend to succeed.
I am not going to use Japanese names like Anzu (that's if these other characters are going into this story) like some one said that I should do. This is a story of mine and its kind of less confusing for others.
Please enjoy and review! ^^
~*~ Blood ~*~
Blood dripped off my arms and legs, but I couldn't remember why. I'm sitting here in my chair, curled up in a ball, even though it brought anguish pain. My eyes were unfocused and filled with tears again. Why was I so weak and pathetic? I don't deserve to live nor breathe air. I should end my life like any miserable person does to them self.
My eyes snapped to the silver knife on the kitchen counter, dripping with crimson liquid.my crimson liquid, my blood.
I could feel these hot tears running down my cheeks again, I feel so ashamed. Maybe I do deserve this, a punishment from god, or maybe Hell. This life is awful, it sucks, sucks bad. My hand consciously held my new open wound on my arm, great, new wounds.
I could feel the eyes of my yami, the cruel eyes burning at the back of my head. His smirk playing across his features, the features that look so much like mine, but so different at the same time.The opposite, darkness and light, Light and darkness.
I hate him; I hate his existence, his smirk, his eyes, and every thing. Who would have guessed that my other half, my yami that is half of my soul, gave me these very wounds? So this was what it's like being abused. In lessons we use to have to go on NSPCC on the internet, abused children. I always wondered what it would be like to be an abused child, but never like this.
My mother and Father downstairs watching television, not knowing what is being inflicted upon me. How can they be so clueless? Not asking why I limp down the stairs, why I cover an eye, why I always wear long sleeved shirts, even in the hottest summers.
I hate them, I hate every one.
I felt the presence of my Yami leave me be. A sigh of relief left my lips as I realised I had been holding my breath.How pathetic and worthless can I possibly get?
"Ryou, do you want you're dinner?" my mother called from downstairs. Oh, so now they know I am here, living, just barely by a thread. I couldn't trust my own voice and decided to ignore her attempts to get me to eat or reply. She can go to Hell.no.I want to go to hell, or some where that doesn't involve me living.
My eye travelled to the clock on my bed stand. It was 5pm.just great, I feel so tired, so very tired. Maybe it's the blood lose.I can see the puddle beneath my chair now.Look at it. Dark blood of mine was swirling around in that puddle. The coppery taste of it made him shudder in disgust as I licked my dry lips.
Eerie silence filled the house, well, not silence, but close enough. You could hear the buzzing of electric, my own breathing as well as my drip drop of my blood colliding on the floor. I felt so helpless, so weak.a feeling of anger bubbling within me.
How dare Bakura hurt me, I have rights, I have a life. My confidence seemed to grow as my mind began to expand with thoughts I never knew of.
Who does he think he is?
Why should I get hurt?
I have a heart, don't I have the right?
Why should I put up with it?
I jumped as a cold hand slithered up my back, warm breath smothering my neck. The cold voice of my abuser, my darker half, my Yami whispered into my sensitive ear.
"Because my little aibou, you are nothing" and that's when I felt fangs sink into my flesh.
~*~ blood ~*~
So what did you think? Please review to tell me if there was something wrong.