Even in his soul room, his sanctuary from the outside world, Ryou was unconscious. And it was not exactly how Yami Bakura had come to envision it.
Ryou leaned, slumped against the soul room wall. Even though he was in spirit form, blood still dribbled freely from the wound on his left arm. The bandage had fallen off, resting uneasily on his lower arm.
"They're… emotional wounds…" Yami Bakura found himself whispering, something centuries of scarred and broken knuckles had taught him. "Not just physical ones."
He watched the blood stain his hikari's pale skin. In his lifeless state, he looked a lot like his mother on the hospital gurney.
Yami Bakura fought to shake that image out of his head.
It didn't mean anything, and it never would.
But after an agonizing stretch of silence, Yami Bakura bent down and picked up the fallen piece of white linen.
The boy in front of him looked so broken, so defeated. No matter how much he attempted to rationalize his motives for entering the memories of his hikari, he couldn't erase them from his mind.
The tender child, tears still pouring from burning eyes, clinging to the body of his dead mother, trying in vain to make her wake up. He could still hear him rightfully crying and wailing.
The solemn boy, despondently dragging himself home each day to a broken home, knowing that everyone who cared about him was dead and gone, clinging to the millennium ring as the only symbol he had left of the life he wished he still had. Of all the things to make into such a symbol.
The neglected teen, wandering aimlessly through the streets of Domino City, moving from school to school, fearful of getting close to anyone, lest they die as well. No wonder he wanted to be so close to Yugi and the others. No wonder he always sacrificed himself for them. Even if they despised him, they at least allowed him to come near them.
The victim of so much abuse. Abuse that he, his yami, was often responsible for.
"Who am I kidding…" he finally whispered to himself, not thinking anyone could hear him. He wrapped the open wound, and tied a tight knot in the bandage. The pressure would stop the bleeding. "I guess you do know a lot about being alone, don't you."
Suddenly the image in front of him disappeared.
"Yeah… I… I do."