~*The Man I've Become*~
Ryou walked down the vacant hallway with his blood-soaked robes clinging to his flesh. He had begged and pleaded with the palace servants not to take Shizuka's body away, but they insisted that it had to be done. He was reluctant; he grasped her body tightly, refusing to let them take her. She belonged back with her family; with Jounouchi, and he wanted to take her with him, because he was leaving. There was no way that he could possibly live in this hell for a moment longer. He couldn't wait for Bakura to come for him, if Bakura would even come back at all. Most likely not; no, definitely not. Bakura would probably never forgive him after what happened the other night. Why had he been so stupid and naïve? He should have known nothing could change Malik, not even love...Yes, for a fleeting moment, Ryou was almost certain that he had loved Malik. But once again he was proven wrong. Once again his own sanguinity had sent him careening into a deep hole; one that would take more than himself to get out of. But there was no one to help him out this time. Bakura would turn away; forsake him, like he himself had done. Malik would stand at the top and laugh and ridicule him, and make him feel more helpless and abandoned. His stomach tied in knots when he thought about how alone he really was. Why had he been so stupid? He should have just left with Bakura and this would have never happened...He wouldn't have to be so alone...because Bakura loved him...and Malik didn't even have a heart to love with, even though Ryou had prayed desperately to the Gods to give him one. His prayers obviously fell on def ears. Then again, when did the Gods ever listen to the simple desperate prayers of a peasant boy?
At that moment Ryou noticed that he had stopped walking; glancing to his right there were the massive oak doors that Malik's room lie beyond. Why did he feel as if he were chained to the door? It was as if there was some sort of bond holding him there, like he couldn't leave, even if he wanted to.
'It's all in your mind Ryou.' And with that, he thoroughly convinced himself that he was no longer bound to this Pharaoh. He was his own person and he didn't need to be afraid of some pushover.
Ryou proceeded quickly past Malik's room, but to his utter horror, once he had walked down the hallway a bit further, he heard the huge doors swing open behind him.
"What do you think you're doing?!?" He heard Malik shout from behind him.
Ryou didn't even bother to turn around. The only thing his mind was telling him to do was to run. So that's exactly what he did. As fast as his legs would carry him, Ryou ran down the hallway. He didn't need to turn around to know that the Pharaoh was gaining on him. But that didn't stop him. He had to get away. Malik was going to kill him if he didn't. Once Malik caught him, he would put an arrow through his heart just like he did to Shizuka. 'Please...answer my prayers...I don't want to die alone...'
Just then, a force as strong as a lion crashed into him, propelling the exhausted boy to the floor.
"A-ah!" He cried when the Pharaoh jumped on top of him. "No! Leave me alone!" Ryou kicked and thrashed against Malik, trying to free himself, while at the same time trying to hurt Malik as much as physically possible. But his actions seemed to have no effect on the stronger boy other than to irritate him.
"Stop it!" Malik yelled as he flipped Ryou over on his back and sat on top of him, pinning him to the ground. Ryou continued to struggle, which only made Malik angrier. "Ryou I said stop it!" Malik reached down and wrapped his hands around Ryou's arms, rendering them useless as well.
"Get off me! Let me go!" Ryou's movement was highly restricted; therefore the only thing left for him to do was scream. Not that anyone would come to his rescue...
"Shut up!" Malik moved one of his hands and placed it over Ryou's mouth, freeing his one arm. So Ryou latched on to Malik's arm and tried to remove the Pharaoh's hand from his mouth. When that didn't work he went to his only other alternative.
Opening his mouth, he clamped down hard on a piece of Malik's flesh, causing the tan boy to quickly pull his hand away as he hissed. It was all over in a moment though, because Malik quickly turned his attention back to the boy underneath him and narrowed his eyes.
"You little snake!" He growled before bringing the back of his hand down and whipping it across Ryou's pale, tear stricken face.
Ryou only cried out slightly as he turned his face to the side and placed his free hand on his pounding cheek.
"Where did you think you were heading off to Ryou?" Malik asked in a cynical tone as he gripped Ryou's chin in his hand and turned the boy's face around so that he was looking directly in his eyes.
"I-I...I was...leaving..." Ryou whispered.
"Oh, were you now?" Malik smirked slightly. "I thought we had discussed this Ryou." Malik moved off of him and stood up. Lowering is hand down; he offered it to Ryou who just lay there, dumbfounded.
Malik, becoming frustrated, grabbed onto Ryou's wrists and yanked the boy up, causing a low moan to form in Ryou's throat. Still gripping Ryou's wrists tightly, Malik led him back to his room.
Once they were safely inside and the doors were shut, Malik turned on Ryou faster than the blink of an eye.
"I thought, my dear Ryou," Malik spoke as he advanced on the trembling boy like a predator would stalk its prey, "That we had an understanding." Malik had Ryou backed up to a wall now. There was nowhere else for Ryou to go.
"Wha-I don't understand." He whined.
It was obvious that Malik was becoming highly frustrated, but he remained calm...somewhat.
"It was said that you were to wait until Bakura came back...and then, if you wanted to leave, you could...BUT not until then. Do I make myself clear?"
Ryou nodded without saying a word.
"I want an answer Ryou." He ordered.
"Yes." He sighed.
"Good. I'm glad that we came to an understanding." Malik gazed down at Ryou with a look that spoke of nothing but hate. Truthfully, that's what Malik wanted. But he was confused. He didn't know at this point whether he wanted to hate Ryou, or to love him. Right now though, he was unable to feel anything but hate, and that emotion emanated off of his face.
"Malik-" Ryou started, but Malik quickly corrected him.
"Do not call me by my name! Who do you think you are?" He yelled as he slammed Ryou against the wall. "Ryou, I have let you get away with too much." Malik brought his face in closer to Ryou's own. "I have given you more than I should have. I have most certainly been nicer than what you deserve." Malik suddenly felt his stomach do a back flip. What in the hell did he just say that for? He saw Ryou's reaction to that, and it nearly made his small heart break. Ryou's eyes became wide for a moment, and then, a blank expression washed over his face.
Malik had no choice but to let go of the boy and slowly step away. Why? Why did he have to go that far?
'Oh come now. You know he deserved it. Look at what he said to you!' Malik didn't need to be reminded twice of what Ryou had said to him earlier. " 'One of these day you'll get what's coming to you...and there'll be no one to help you...'"
Those words stung him worse than any weapon ever could. Even though he had been telling himself that for years; it hurt more than he expected when it came from someone whose opinion mattered to him. But did that mean that he had to make Ryou feel the same way? 'Why...of course.' Without any further justification Malik turned and walked over to his bed. He turned back around just in time to see Ryou, slowly sliding down the wall until he rested on the ground.
Ryou brought his knees up and hugged them to his chest as he steadily rocked back and forth.
Malik's heart started pounding, and he felt himself breaking out in a cold sweat. He fell back onto his bed. As he sat there and stared at the boy, haunting memories crept their way into his thoughts. He watched the boy for the longest time. Ryou was frightened, and alone. Much like he himself had been not so long ago. The more he sat there and watched, the clearer the memories became until he could almost hear that wicked man's voice. The one he called father. The one he hated so much. The one he had only remembered as the evil one. Until this night he had never understood it, he never comprehended nor made the connection...Try to deny it though he might, he is everything that his father was.
A heartless bastard, a thief and a murderer. A cruel man with no ones feelings in mind but his own. Malik had lived all these years accepting the fact that everyone had given him so deserving a nickname. In all honestly he could have cared less what the people called him. He never put two and two together...that is until now. Ryou always made him realize the obvious that was hidden from his blind eyes. 'I know the man I've become.'
Malik quickly turned his gaze away from Ryou. He couldn't look at him for a moment longer lest he start to cry like the whimpering child that he was.
Sighing, he closed his eyes and laid his head on the pillow, hoping that in sleep he would be able to erase all this from his memory.
Ah, sleep...something so precious, yet with Malik, so hard to come by. It was that priceless jewel that he just couldn't get his hands on. He had everything that the greediest man could ever hope to obtain, and yet, could not arrive at something as simple as rest. He never slept well, that is until he met Ryou. There was something about that boy that, for lack of better words, made him complete.
He was going to do without that tonight, and the rest of his life for that matter. Because as sure as the sun will rise, he knew that Bakura would come back, even though he tried to convince himself otherwise. He knew Bakura's love for Ryou was strong. And Ryou deserved to be loved. But Malik couldn't bear to lose Ryou, not again. But there was no way that Ryou would choose to stay with him, not after he had seen the cold heartless beast that he really was. Ryou would probably never speak to him again. Malik wasn't going to let that happen, so a change of plans was in order.
For hours Malik thought about these things, until finally his eyelids became so heavy that he just allowed himself to be overcome with sleep.
* * *
"Litho! Litho!" Came the excited cry as Malik ran eagerly out a small side exit and down a dirt path to meet his friend. The young boy turned around at the sound of his friend's voice.
"Malik? How did you manage to get out of the palace?" Litho asked; his face glowing with concern.
"Isis is covering for me. She's distracting father at the moment. She said I needed some time away." Malik smiled at him. "And boy do I ever agree with her!"
"I agree too, but...what if he finds out?" The tall tan boy asked in a hushed undertone.
"Oh don't worry about it Litho...geesh, you sound like an old man! C'mon, let's go to the temple of Ra." By this point Malik was nearly dragging his friend in a desperate attempt to reach the temple faster.
Against Litho's better judgment, he followed the young creamy-blonde haired boy further along down the path as they made their way to Malik's favorite place in the world.
"And what about your brother?"
"Mariku? Ah, he's probably off somewhere with Yami, no doubt goofing off and getting into trouble." Malik had a harsh tone in his voice as he spoke about his younger sibling; waving is hand in an arrogant manner to show that he wanted to divulge in this subject no further. He was never quite as fond of Mariku as he was of Isis.
"Why do I always sense hostility when you talk about him?" Litho asked, as the two continued to walk towards the temple, which was quite a ways away.
"Because." Malik grunted, rolling his eyes.
But Litho wasn't satisfied with that answer.
"You can tell me Malik."
"Because I hate him!" He shouted; stopping in his tracks and glairing at Litho. Why was it that everyone insisted that just because he was older he should take the initiative and try to at least pretend he loved his little brother? "He never has to stay inside all day and learn useless junk! He never gets whipped when he makes a mistake! He's allowed to go outside and do as he pleases! A-and...he doesn't have to undergo t-the ritual..." Malik let his voice trail off as a shudder went down his spine. He knew all that the ritual entailed, because he had to study it; memorize it until he knew it like the back of his hand. "Litho, my tenth birthday is less than two weeks away...I don't want to do this! I-I think I'd rather die." His expression softened as he glanced away from his friend. "I don't understand any of this!"
Litho moved closer and placed a comforting hand on the small boy's shoulder. "Malik, I know that this must be hell for you. But I'm here, I'll always be here."
Malik couldn't help but produce a weak smile. However, the smile vanished as soon as he heard that voice.
"Malik!" It screamed. Both boys could hear it loud and clear even though they were yards away from the palace. A look of panic swept over their faces, and as Malik turned around, he saw two palace guards bounding towards him.
Just then, the image started to fade. The world around him swirled together in a mix of colors, and the next thing he knew, he found that he couldn't move.
His arms were bound together by a rope, his eyes shut tightly. The sting of the whip caused him to tilt his head back and cry out.
"Please father no!" He cried, only to have his back whipped again. It snapped against his back, tearing open his delicate tan flesh. Blood was oozing out of the fresh wounds. The ever familiar feeling of his warm, fresh blood, pouring down his bare back made him wonder how many more times he could handle this. Would there ever come a day when his body would just give up? When there would be no more blood to spill? Would the time come when; like his soul; his body just dried up, and ceased to be?
"This will teach you to run away boy!" His father growled before unleashing a brutally harsh crack of the whip.
"Please...father...I'm sorry." He sobbed as tears poured down his cheeks.
"You're only sorry because you were caught! If I didn't punish you, you'd do it again in a heartbeat Malik!"
He expected to feel the whip against his back, but the beating had ceased, and his father walked over to him, untied his hands and let his exhausted, viciously beaten body fall limply to the floor.
Malik lay there, with his eyes shut, breathing heavily. But a harsh kick from his father, sent his form curling into a little ball, defensively trying to shield what little of him had yet to be broken.
"Get up!" He screamed, kicking his son again in the stomach. "You're not nearly done yet with your studies, and the great ritual is only a week away!" His eyes scanned over the boy's back, which at this point, closely resembled minced meat. "I'll have Isis heal you before the ritual, because there's no use performing it on a mauled back." He hissed, before turning and walking away.
Again, the familiar sinking feeling set in, as the room went black and another image appeared.
Malik threw his head in his hands, having been up for two days straight studying and reading and memorizing. The constant aching of his back kept him from fully concentrating on his work. His father had purposely told Isis not to heal him until the night before the ritual so that he could suffer, and wallow in the pain that his rebellious actions had brought down upon him. The dreaded ritual was looming ever closer. Now it was only five days away.
"It's hopeless..." He muttered, hitting his forehead with his hand.
"No it's not." Came the most soothing voice in the entire world.
There she stood, her form resting against the doorway. Her emerald eyes glanced down at her poor, forlorn brother and she struggled to hold back her tears. It pained her so much to see her brother suffering...but there wasn't much she could do. Not much...but some.
"Malik, father said I couldn't heal you until the night before the ritual." She spoke as she walked over to where the young boy sat. "But I have something that might ease the pain."
He watched as her necklace lit up, and she said a little spell. The light transferred to the palm of her hand, and she placed her hand on his back.
Instantly he felt a warming sensation, and almost immediately the sting was gone.
"I don't care what he says." She gave him a defiant smile as she turned to walk away. "Oh, and I swiped something from the kitchens for you." She tossed him the red fruit and winked before she exited.
Malik caught the small fruit eagerly and instantly gobbled it up. It was a strawberry, his absolute favorite.
That was one of the fondest memories of his childhood. His sister gave him hope, even when the situation looked hopeless. Somewhere deep inside, he knew that if he had ever met his mother; she would have been just like Isis. So calm and sincere; caring, yet stern. She had a mother's touch, and a mother's undying love. Malik didn't know where he'd be without her.
But this brief ray of hope was quickly swallowed up by the cold darkness. He couldn't imagine where he would be led next. But when the details of the next scene immerged, he wished he could die on the spot.
Malik was kneeling on the stone floor, with his head bowed and his hands bound together. His upper body was bare, revealing the young lithe form the boy had; with a freshly healed back. His entire body convulsed violently, he felt as if he would lose what little food remained in his stomach after a long night of vomiting. Today was his tenth birthday. Instead of receiving a treasured family heirloom, or praise from his parents for becoming a young man, he was given an ancient curse.
Nobody was in the shrine room at the time. It was part of the ritual. He had to be alone, praying to the Gods before his time came. Alone...he was used to that, and usually, he enjoyed it. But today, that was the last thing that he wanted. He wanted his sister, he wanted Litho. The boy needed some sort of comfort before he went into the room that lay beyond the double doors behind the shrine of the Gods.
Glancing up, he stared at the statues. There was Anubis, sacred God of embalming and guider of the dead's soul across the underworld. Malik stared at the statue for a while, as if hoping that the great God himself would come and save him from this; more like put him out of his misery. But he knew that wouldn't happen.
Then he moved his eyes from Anubis to Bast. Ah, Bast...sweet Goddess of the home, protector of children and family. Where was she when he needed her the most? Was he not worthy of such divine protection? He snorted quietly to himself...no, he was an Ishtar...not worth anything.
Not wanting to linger on that for too much longer he quickly shifted his gaze to a more menacing God; Set. The one who owns chaos. The God of all things that bring pain and suffering. Malik let out a sarcastic, almost evil chuckle. Set was defiantly the God for him.
He took in a deep breath as his eyes wandered to the last statue. The almighty sun God Ra. One that Malik felt a particular attachment to. He liked the sun, and he liked what few precious moments he had outside in it. Ra had always given him more strength. Ra was the sun to him, even when he was cooped up inside...
Malik started a small prayer to his favorite God, but was cut off abruptly when his father and two guards burst through the doors behind him, interrupting what little peace he was trying to find in Ra.
Quickly he turned his head around to see his father advancing on him with an evil look in his eyes and an extremely sharp looking dagger in his hands.
"Please! Just give me one more minute!" He screamed when the two guards grabbed him by the arms and picked up his light body, carrying him behind the alter and through the double doors.
"W-wait! Please!" He yelled, kicking against the ground, and struggling to free himself.
Instead of complying, they threw him down on an alabaster alter that was bare except for a ridge that jutted out at the end. The table was slightly slanted, and Malik could only imagine why...
The two men grabbed his hands, which were still tied together, and tied a rope around the rope that was already binding him. They then attached the rope to the head of the table, rendering Malik helpless and unable to move away from the torture that was about to be brought down upon him.
Harshly they yanked at his hair, lifting his face up and holding it still while they gripped his chin unsympathetically.
Out of the corner of his eye Malik saw his father walk by and sit a lit candle on the small wooden table by the alter that he was presently tied to.
"W-what are you doing?!" He screeched, when he saw his father lower the blade of the dagger into the red hot flame. He tried his best to take a deep breath, but his breathing was limited due to the fact that his head was being pulled back by the guards.
He vaguely saw his father come up to him; the dagger, glowing red. His father smirked before he placed the blade under Malik's eye, slowly carving out the ritual pattern, while Malik writhed and screamed under the immense pain.
"Shut him up!" His father ordered one of the men.
While still holding Malik firmly, the man reached behind and grabbed a rag soaked in alcohol and roughly gagged the poor boy.
Malik choked as the disgusting liquid poured down his parched throat when he tried to breathe. It muffled all attempts for him to cry out. However, tears still formed in his eyes, and fell down his face, stinging the freshly cut marks under his eyes.
"Uhhh!" He yelled, biting down on the rag when his father started working under his other eye. He could no longer see or think straight. His vision was blurred by his tears, and his mind could focus on nothing but the pain. It felt like an eternity before his father finally backed away. It was over; finally his suffering had come to an end. But...they weren't untying him. Instead the two guards let go of his hair, roughly throwing his head down on the hard alter surface. I-it was over...it had to be...but why weren't they letting him go?
'Ra, please help me...' Had he been thinking clearly he would have known that it wasn't over, after all, he had studied it, he knew every detail of this ritual...but he wasn't thinking about that now...
He shut his tender eyes and rested his head on the table. Oh, how is neck ached from being held back for so long. Before he even had enough time to catch his breath he felt his hair being pulled away from his shoulders. 'No!' They still had to do his entire back!
He bit down on the wet rag again, feeling as if he could chew right through it when his father ran the searing blade along his upper back and across his shoulders.
"Mmmm!" He cried out, only to have his screams muffled by the rag. As soon as he started to move his body the two men rushed over and held him down. He wasn't able to move; he could hardly breathe or see...his throat was burning from screaming at the top of his lungs, and his back was causing him to contort his body as much as it was allowed under the hindering grips of the two men.
He could feel the warm river of freshly discharged blood pouring down his back. Because the table was slanted, as his blood was spilled, it ran down the table and collected in the little niche at the other end of the alter.
It was his innocent blood that had to be shed...he had to suffer for a lost cause, a tribe that was on the brink of extinction...yet, no one was willing to let it die. Rather...let the young suffer...let them carry the impossible burden of being an Ishtar.
Malik's back was throbbing, the pain...unbearable...the images, all too vivid...
"Aah!" Malik shot up in the bed and involuntarily reached his hand around, brushing his fingers across those infamous scars. His whole body was dripping with sweat and shaking slightly.
'It was just a dream....dammit! A dream!' He yelled at himself. He looked to his right, and there was Ryou, staring right at him, with a horrified look on his face.
"What?!" He snapped, causing Ryou to flinch. Malik put a trembling hand to his forehead...he felt a busting headache coming on.
Ryou quickly tore his gaze away from the Pharaoh. "N-nothing...you were just..."
"Just what?" Malik asked, with a hint of fear in his voice. He narrowed his eyes as he stared forward at the ground. He couldn't look at Ryou.
"You were tossing and turning...and crying out in your sleep..."
"Yea, well...you must have been hearing things." He hissed. Malik turned around and flopped back down in his bed, exposing his back to Ryou.
Ryou gazed at the ancient cryptic carvings. They were so beautiful, yet at the same time hideous. The carvings, in and of themselves were enticing and captivating, drawing ones attention to Malik's perfect back. However, that still didn't push aside the fact that he had them etched into his flesh, in what Ryou was sure had to have been the most painful thing Malik had ever been through. He knew that the memory of that day must still haunt Malik. But he knew that it would be in his best interest not to say anything more about it.
Malik couldn't believe he had that dream again...it was so vivid and horrifying...and he prayed to the Gods that Ryou didn't hear too much of what he was crying out...
It had been at least a year since he had stopped dreaming that dream. What on earth would cause him to dream it again? Ah, but that was a rhetorical question if he had ever heard one. He knew what caused it...he knew who caused it...
Oh well...it didn't matter. He would just have to suck it up and be the hardened tough Pharaoh that he had been all these years. Ryou didn't matter to him anymore, and he had gotten his reputation back finally as a heartless killer. Things were back to normal. But it was still hell.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Ok, that was another example of a random idea that pops into my weird mind in the middle of the night...However...I felt that it was necessary to put a little human character back into Malik so that you don't start hating him again. And sorry for all the bloody details. But I am an avid Malik fan and feel that whenever someone wants to talk about his history and the whole "back carving" incident, they should make the reader feel sympathy for him, even if the current circumstances in the story should make you feel anything BUT sympathy for him. I know he's made a turn for the worst, but hey, this is reality, things don't always end up happy and I hate it when they do (No not always). But let's put things into perspective here. Malik has just killed an innocent girl and now he has Ryou, who has done absolutely nothing to him, scared and alone. But, from Malik, could you really expect anything different? (In this story I mean) No. Even though he "cares" about Ryou, that's not enough to make him change his ways. Come on, it's just human nature to stick with the familiar.
Ok, I'm done with my little psychology spiel. Thanks for taking the time to read this "work-in-progress" of a story! BTW...I have no idea (well, I do have a little idea...) where I'm going to go with this story, for those of you bighting your nails to find out who Ryou's going to end up with...well, lets just say that I'm as clueless as you! And remember, reviews are welcomed! Let me just take the time to thank you for all of these wonderful reviews, you have no idea how much they help me and motivate me to get my rear in gear and keep writing! I seriously never expected for anyone to like this story because it was an off the wall idea that came to me really late one night (or should I say, really really early one morning).
And one more thing (sorry I'm blabbing a lot) I think from now on I'll update every two to three weeks or so, just because this story is getting really long and there are so many chapters, so I'm going to make them longer and take more time to think about them so I don't get anything messed up (I tend to do that a lot).
Malik: *in a daze* Wow...that was waaaay too much talking...
I apologized!
Malik: *falls over on the floor and starts twitching*
Y. Malik: *pulls out sennen rod and pokes Malik* get up you fool, you look like a fishy flopping around on the ground *poke poke*
Just give him some sugar, he'll be alright.
Y. Malik: Nah, I think I like poking him better *poke poke*
Malik: *Twitch twitch*
Y. Malik: *poke poke*
Malik: *twitch twitch*
(Etcetera etcetera until Y. Malik finally gets bored of Malik and decides to hide under the bleachers in the school gym and poke people in the butt.)
Oh, and by the way...I KNOW that Joey did not call Y. Malik an artichoke head on today's episode. Where is he getting these "creative" insults? I think Y. Malik should bite off his head.
Y. Malik: Sounds like a plan.
