Finally, Chapter 8! Sorry I haven't updated sooner.  Read and enjoy!

            A shadow fell over Ryou as he sat fidgeting at the breakfast table; he looked up, questions springing to his lips, and saw Bakura standing in the doorway, a black silhouette against the early morning sunlight.  Something about the spirit froze Ryou's tongue, choking his words so that he could only stare in helpless silence at the dark figure looming before him.  He felt an icy chill of apprehension, suddenly remembering that Bakura wasn't a normal teenager, that he was actually some thousands of years old, a bloodthirsty tomb robber who had murdered and plundered countless innocents, that he had hurt Ryou in the recent past and might do so again in the future.  Then Bakura moved, stepping into the cool shadows within the house, and he was just Bakura once more, eyes a little dazzled from the bright outdoors, smiling slightly at some private joke.  Ryou let his breath out in a silent sigh of relief.  What had he been expecting, anyhow?  He grinned up at Bakura, finding his voice.

           "It's ok, then?  The hummingbird?" he asked.  Bakura's smile widened and Ryou's uneasiness returned, sending a small shiver up his spine.

            "Yes," Bakura answered, after a brief pause.  "It's fine.  I…saw to it."  When Ryou didn't say anything, he elaborated a bit more.  "It flew away," he lied, cursing himself for leaving the body on the grass so carelessly.  I'll have to get rid of it before Ryou goes outside, he thought.

            "That's good," Ryou said mechanically, staring hard at Bakura.  He's lying, said a little voice in the back of his mind.  He's lying to you.  You know he is.  He probed tentatively through their mindlink, finding Bakura's thoughts closed to him as usual.  Bakura was still in the kitchen, lounging against the counter with his arms folded over his chest.  It was a completely normal stance, but somehow, Ryou was convinced that the spirit was hiding something from him.  Curiously enough, he didn't really care.  He felt himself push his chair back from the table and stand, dreamlike, his feet carrying him towards the door.  Before he reached it, Bakura was standing in front of him, indolent posture abandoned.

            "Finish your breakfast, little one."

            Ryou looked at him.  The spirit was blocking his way completely; though his arms were hanging loosely by his sides, Ryou sensed that every muscle in his body was tensed, ready.  From afar, he heard himself reply.

            "I don't want to.  I want to go outside."

            Bakura shook his head.  "Finish your breakfast first," he repeated, with a definite edge to his voice now. 

            Afterwards, Ryou couldn't remember what had made him do it.  He vaguely recalled trying to lunge past Bakura, a bruising grip on his shoulders wrenching him around, Bakura shouting at him to sit down, someone sobbing hysterically.  Then pain, a bright, white-hot jolt through his left arm as he was shoved roughly away from the door, slamming into the counter with a dull cracking noise.  Bakura, looking down on him, spitting out three words before walking away.

            "Finish your breakfast."

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            Ryou moaned, opening his eyes to find the kitchen swimming dizzily around him.  He blinked hard in hopes that the room would stop spinning and let him get up; unfortunately, his surroundings continued their relentless turning until he felt quite nauseous.  A rank odor wafted past his nostrils and he wrinkled his nose in distaste, peeking sideways and locating the source of the smell as a puddle of milk on the floor that was beginning to sour.  From his vantage point, he could see chunks of soggy cornflakes floating in it, and decided that he should probably try to move away from it.  He lifted his head and cried out as the movement jarred his arm, sending a dagger of pain slicing through the injured limb, black spots obscuring his vision.  He subsided, putting his head back down and clenching his teeth, determined not to faint again.  Dimly, he thought back to the last time he had woken up on the floor like this; it had been the time Bakura had thrown him across the room so long ago…Realization of what had happened hit him then, and he closed his eyes in a futile effort to ward off the hurt.

            "But I just wanted to go outside," he said out loud to the cornflakes on the floor.  "I just wanted to go outside."

Sorry, it's a short chapter and I haven't updated in ages, eons, centuries…I had a lot of schoolwork.  Please review though!