Screaming.
On and on. Thin, undying and raw, as if torn from his very heart.
Tears.
Pouring down his face, some slipping into his mouth and most dripping onto the still form of his Yami.
Sirens.
Flashing red and blue, the ambulance arriving too late.
Searching.
For his Yami in his soul, in the Millennium Ring. Finding nothing, emptiness and void...
Anguish.
Night owl calls while the dove soars across the silver moon,
All alone, the rose petals close, and kiss the night,
All across the darkened night sky sail fireflies
Gently lighting shadows that hide a thousand eyes
Voices broke through my internal torture. Outside my door, speaking loudly, too loudly, chattering away, mostly untouched by the prevalent grief in my heart- too untouched.
My friends.
"Hey, Ryou! Wanna come with us to the arcade to play that dance game that Anzu is so crazy over?" There was Jounouchi.
"Yeah, it'll be great- Jounouchi's going to try it out and we're going to laugh at his clumsy attempts."
Honda.
"Hey, I heard dat!"
"Come on, Ryou have some fun now that your Yami's gone- he can't hurt you anymore." And Anzu.
/If only you knew- his absence hurts more than any physical pain can.../
I sighed, shaking my head. Plastering a fake smile onto my face, I opened the door and greeted my friends warmly, struggling to keep my smile from turning into a grimace at the sight of those cheerful faces.
"Hi, guys! I'd love to go with you to the arca-" I paused, then doubled over in fake pain, clutching my stomach, "Itai!"
"Are you okay?" Yuugi asked anxiously, always the concerned one.
"Yeah, I'll be ok... but I don't think I'm up for the arcade- not today anyway. Sorry." I lied, shaking my head sadly. "Maybe another time."
"Oh, okay."
"Yeah, another time."
"Hope you feel better soon, Ryou."
"We'll see you in school."
"OK," I agreed, forcing myself to smile again, "See you guys later. Have fun."
The group turned and walked away, babbling on about nothing at all. Sighing again, I went back into my empty house, closed the door and locked it. Didn't -any- of them understand? I smirked bitterly, and caught my reflection in the mirror that was just inside the door. Startled, I realized that the expression reflected was one Bakura often wore. Shaking my head, I turned away from the mirror and headed into the kitchen. No, of course they didn't. Not that they tried, of course.
A dream, dream, no dream
You can feel the forest calling out to you
A dream, dream, no dream,
Rooting through cabinets and cupboards, my fingers soon touched a water glass, dusty and in the corner of one of the various cabinets. Perfect! I nodded to myself, carefully wiped the dust away, then, hesitating for a split second, threw it at the linoleum floor as hard as I could. It shattered on impact, small pieces of glass flying into the air, and sparkling sadly before losing its fight with gravity and tinkling softly to the ground.
Grinning for real this time--this was too easy--I searched through the broken glass and soon found a shard just the right size. Placing it on the table, I proceeded to clean up the rest of the broken glass. Wouldn't want to step on it and hurt myself, would I? I chuckled to myself at the joke.
Finished with cleaning up, and still laughing, I went over to the sink, picked up the piece of glass in my right hand and held my left arm over the sink. Setting the glass against my skin--this is it--I slowly pierced my pale skin, staring at it until I drew blood. Breath coming faster, I watched, horribly fascinated, as a trail of blood wound around my arm to collect on my fingertips, then--plip--fall into the sink.
Close your eyes, my darling child…
When the dawn comes, you'll see these things I have for you
Morning dew and the scent of a jasmine summer breeze
At that, all I had felt since my Yami died came rushing, roaring, to the surface. Anger, guilt, self-recrimination, and sorrow made the blood pound in my ears, urging me to cut deeper. Then, half in a daze, I lifted the shard, turned it sideways and cut again, crisscrossing through my previous cut, forming an X. The blood glistened on the glass, the light reflected from the fluorescent light swinging above me welling forth under the taint of blood.
Night hawk sings as the black raven circles overhead,
All alone, the white lily bends and slowly dies,
All across the darkened night sky, the thunder roars
Winds come howling harmony to a lone wolf's cry
I let out a deep sigh, dazedly watching my blood- my pain leaving me…at last… But-- no! That small puddle was not enough! Still the anger churned-still the guilt clawed at me-still the pain of lost love throbbed. Would it never stop! Almost sobbing now, I cut, cut, and cut, over and over on both arms, leaving gashes and wounds. I had to get it out! Out, out, out, OUT!
"RYOU! WHAT ARE YOU'RE DOING!" The glass was wrenched from my unsteady grasp. I turned upon my father, eyes frenzied and glazed. What was he doing here, dammit! He was never home, and yet, when I need him gone, here he is!
"GIVE THAT BACK!" Hn? Who said that? I seemed to be far away from this place…merely watching someone who looked like me; there, that idiot with the white hair. Then I was back in my own body. I didn't know what to do, just went with what I had to do- retrieve my salvation. Release myself from my turmoil…
A dream, dream, no dream
You can feel the forest calling out to you,
A dream, dream, no dream
I made a wild grab for it, but my father pushed me away. "GIVE IT BACK! I NEED IT! I NEED IT!" I shrieked incoherently, tears streaming unchecked down my face. Hardly aware of what I was doing, I flew at my father, kicking, scratching, punching, trying, all in vain, to get it back.
"What happened to you, Ryou?" My father dearest asked in a horrified whisper. As if he ever knew me enough to have the right to say that. For all he knew, I might have been doing this all my life.
He began backing out of the kitchen, taking the glass with him, "I-I'm going to get you help. You j-just stay t-there…"
Staring helplessly after my father, I sank down into a corner, drawing my legs up and wrapping my bloody arms around my knees, eyes shadowed. I whimpered softly, resting my head on my knees. 'If only's' ran through my head- if only my father hadn't come home just then… if only I had cut faster, deeper… if only-I sighed, feeling tears prickle at the back of my throat-if only Bakura were still here.
"If 'ifs' or 'ands' were pots and pans, we'd all be tinkers." I whispered to myself. I giggled quietly and repeated the phrase to myself. All of a sudden, this phrase seemed to be the only thing I could muster from my broken self. "If 'ifs' or 'ands' were pots and pans, we'd all be tinkers." I laughed again, silently, my shoulders shaking, and it was only when I felt warm liquid soak through the knees of my pants did I realize I was crying…
Close your eyes, my darling child
When the dawn comes, you'll see these things I have for you
That was how they found me, curled up in a corner, crying. When they arrived, I stood up, vainly trying to stop the flow of tears, and wiping fruitlessly at my face with my shirt. There were three of them, all tall, all stern, all wearing white suits, and all staring impersonally at me. I gazed back at them until my father came in.
"Konnichiwa, gentlemen. This is my son, Ryou."
I winced at my father's voice. Always had to be polite, didn't he? Courteous even to those who would be taking me away from him to who-knows-where for who-knows-how-long. But what could I expect from a father who was only home about twice a year? Three if I was lucky.
They nodded to him in an impressively professional manner. Coming toward me, one took each of my arm, while the third remaining said impassively, "If there is anything that either of you would like to say to each other, say it now. You may not see each other for at least half a year."
I kept my mouth shut. There was nothing more I could say to my father. Even if I tried to explain, he wouldn't understand and would probably think me more insane if I were to start blabbering about yamis and such.
Sighing, my father looked at me sorrowfully. "I'm sorry, Son. But I'm doing this for your sake and because I love you."
Whatever. I knew perfectly well that the only reason I was being sent off to a mental ward was because my father didn't have the time--or perhaps, the inclination--to stay home and make sure I didn't hurt myself. Repressing a sigh of my own, I asked quietly, "Are you done?"
Taken aback, my father nodded uncertainly.
Suddenly, I couldn't stand the sight of my father any longer; I didn't care where I was going, I just wanted to get away from this faux of a father. I turned to the man who wasn't holding me. "Can we go now?"
The man also nodded, and gestured to the men. Carrying me unceremoniously out the door, they tossed me into their truck that had "DOMINO CITY MENTAL INSTITUTION" written on the side of it. As the car began to move, I lay down and began to cry again as I realized that I was now truly alone. I asked myself wildly, over and over again how this could have happened. My yami--gone. The love I held for my absent father--gone. My friends--gone. My sanity--gone. My life--GONE!
Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, I found myself wishing that Bakura hadn't saved me that day. Why did he have to interfere? With these kind of thoughts circling my mind, I rumbled and jounced toward the end of my sanity.
Loneliness and a silence that smothers everywhere