Grrr… look what you do to me!  This was going to be a one-shot, but then people are like "Update!"  So I think, "There's no way I could continue this… unless…" and plot bunnies start bugging me!  It's not fair!

Warnings: As we are in Seto's own little hell right now, there's general unpleasant-ness.  Really not fun at all.  Jeez… I feel like I'll end up pushing R if I keep writing this the way it's going… But don't let that deter you!  Forge on, brave warriors, forge on!  Read the scary fanfic!

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It was dark all around.  And some child-like part of Seto's mind was already huddled in a corner, frightened, rocking back and forth.  Because you couldn't see in the dark.  Because when it was dark, all the nasty things could hide.  All the monsters and fathers and Pharaohs.   They could be creeping up behind you and you wouldn't know it because you couldn't see them.  And it was the things that you couldn't see that always got you and tore at you and ripped you into shreds for fun, laughing, laughing, laughing as you bled all over.  And the rational part of Seto's mind was annoyed at the childish doubts and fears.  Because he was grown up and he knew that the monsters under the bed didn't exist.

            But there would always be skeletons in the closet.

            No matter how much you grew up you couldn't change that.

            He had been naughty again so they told him to sit down and be quiet and not move.  And he knew that he was in trouble and that Mommy and Daddy would be upset if he talked back or acted too smart or did anything he wasn't supposed to.  So he sat still and didn't move and didn't even tap his feet and he wished he had a book to read-

            And they knocked his book to the ground.  And he guessed he had upset the other boys earlier, probably for defending Mokuba, that was always how it happened.  But they were angrier than usual so now they were holding him down and tying his feet together and his hands behind his back.  And they said that they were just trying to teach him a lesson and that it was really for his own good.  But he knew it was punishment, hazing, as they told him that they would come back to get him later and shoved him into a closet-

            It seemed liked hours passed and Gozaburo pulled him out roughly by his arm.  He felt something snap in his shoulder, he felt it pop.  He knew he would have to get it back into its socket and that was always bothersome.  But now it felt like his shoulder was on fire.  And his back stung.  There were welts and the long gashes kept oozing. If that hadn't been his punishment closet he would have made comments about needing to repaint it to cover the blood.  He involuntarily let out a cringe as an old wound re-opened.  And Gozaburo laughed-

            At some joke some business man said.  Kaiba Corp. was buying out another company, but they were actually paying a decent sum for once.  He sat there uncomfortable, because the same pair of eyes had been glued on him since the beginning, leering.  He was almost positive that this man owned the company, or at least he was someone else important .  All the men were filing out now, but those eyes stayed.  And Gozaburo looked at the man and smiled, saying something to the man in hushed tones that he couldn't hear.  The two shook hands, both grinning smugly.  Gozaburo pulled him into another room, explaining what he was supposed to do.  And he was outraged, who wouldn't be.  He refused over and over.  Gozaburo just smiled and said it would be better this way, anyways.  So he pulled out the restraints-

               And so they offered him up, bound like a sacrificial lamb. They readied him for the slaughter and he died over and over and over again. And it hurt so much. Pain was spreading through him, flowing through his veins. He was going to be split in half. Couldn't that man see that? Couldn't they see he was dying? It hurt so much and it hurt and it hurt and he wanted it to stop. This wasn't supposed to be happening! No matter how hard he struggled he couldn't move. And he wanted so desperately to escape. But what was the point? This wasn't his body anymore. It was someone else's. It was someone else's dirty, defiled body. Not his, not his. It couldn't be. So he stopped struggling and let that some one else take over. Because the real him had been defeated-
               Because he had lost the duel. He had lost. That never happened. But now this demon with manic eyes was grinning so smugly and trapping him in his own hell.  Trapping in him in a small dark space with his own demons. All alone-

            Trying to pick up the pieces of his soul. But they cut his hands and they wouldn't even fit together properly. Why couldn't he just go back to being who he was? Why wouldn't they let him? He was tired of being a chameleon and it felt so much better when he finally glued his identity together and covered the whole thing in cement. He had been tossed on stormy waves his entire life and it was so tiring and it was so much better just to sink for a change. Just to stop struggling and fall below the water and let himself go numb. But now they had taken that away from him, they were going to make him stop being Kaiba. And if he couldn't be Kaiba anymore, well then who was he?

And he wanted to scream at the Pharaoh to stop because he was hurting.  But that was exactly what he wanted.  He wanted him to scream and cry so he bit down on his lip and tongue and he could taste the blood in his mouth.  And why was he always so horrible just to him, what had he done to deserve this?  He wished he had killed him right away so he wouldn't have to feel those hands in his hair and on his hips and the slickness between his legs because he was bleeding.  And he was bleeding so badly and it was getting all over and the Pharaoh knew that he had a hard time getting the blood to stop flowing and that the smallest cuts just bled and bled.  But why would he care?  He had somehow upset him and he didn't know how to make it better so he could make it stop.  But he knew it wouldn't stop because he wanted it to stop.  So he would keep hurting and hurting-

            And he was tired of hurting.  He would make the pain stop if he had to kill the Pharaoh.  If the Pharaoh had to kill him!  He would make it end because he was tired of feeling dirty and used and violated.  He would kill the Pharaoh and become the Pharaoh.  That was the only way.

            And now he was condemned to die.  But he didn't even respect him enough to give him the relief of an execution.  So now he would starve to death, slowly rot away with his hands bound while they watched and laughed at his weakened state…

            
 
 
 
            And he was tired of fighting demons and struggling against his restraints and trying to break out of the cage of an identity that he had been shoved into.  Nothingness was so appealing now, he had never had a chance at nothing. So Seto stopped fighting and let the approaching darkness consume him.
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I feel so evil.
 
 
Oh well.
 
Next Chapter: Probably Jounou Vs. Yami fun.  With commentary from Yami Malikers, of course.  Translation: I've got an idea!  Let's play with Jounou's head until he's emotionally screwed over!
 
Review because you're nice and you'd actually like to see some real JouKai here, instead of Jounou feeling guilty for getting pervy ideas of things to do with an unconscious Seto.
 
 
-Nyako-chan ("She just the girl, she's just the girl, the girl you want!" –Girl U Want, Devo.  Why are you in my head?)