I do not own any of the characters I write about unless there is a note in the endnotes about it. Um, I've got nothing to say about this piece, it is how it is, and whatever you may think, I think that Malik is almost sorry for what Marik did.
Almost...
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The heavy air of Domino slowly dragged past him on the small breeze that chose to mingle with his labored breath. He had run all the way up the stairs, trying to outrun his problems, outrun his memories and his demon. He almost laughed at that. He would never escape his demon. Because unlike Ryou or Yuugi, his demon was a fractured part of his own psyche, a fragment tainted by his hate and rage and pain.
He wasn't all sunshine and daisies himself either, but at least he didn't maim, kill, and torture for fun.
He shuddered at the remembrance of the slick, hot feeling of the blood as it poured through his hands, draining out of the bodies of the many victims of his hate, of his pain.
His pain was their pain now.
He shook his head, waiving his blonde locks around in a nimbus surrounding his head. He cursed at his hair, feeling all the more idiotic for it too, but he still wasn't used to this humidity!
He laughed at the thought.
"Me, unable to keep my hair in perfect condition because of a little water in the air. What a girl thing to say. I blame Isis, she always was the one complaining about her hair in this weather, I guess it rubbed off." He sighed, the thoughts of his sister making him darken a little.
"You know, I don't try to give her reasons to keep yelling at me, keep belittling me. Why does she still look at me like I'm dirt? I used to be her baby brother, like Rashid was her brother. Now I can't decide if it's us who have changed, or if that damn necklace shoved a stick up her ass too. Yeesh. She gets all bent out of shape for the stupidest things."
He sighed, the sound carried on the sluggish wind, a muted and unhappy sound.
"I just wish she wouldn't look at me like I'm not the brother she used to love. I'm still the boy I was... Aw hell. Who am I kidding? I've changed in ways I never thought I could. Never dreamed were possible. When you've never seen the sun, it's easy to forget that one day, you really may see something so bright and brilliant. But I just wish that I hadn't seen it through the blood on my face, the screams in my ears. Oh how I wish that I could go back and see that sunlight again, see it fresh for the first time. Even now I still have a great respect for it, as do all Egyptians. It can kill you, something you never have to think about when you've lived all your life in the darkness of the sands of Egypt."
He sat on the roof's edge, swallowing his twinge of fear at the rather good distance between him and the rather solid blocks of concrete below him.
"Maybe I ran all this way for something I didn't conciously think of. I knew that it was far from here to the ground... I know I've got knives. I know that no one would look up here... I know that I shouldn't be here, but... I just can't see why. Why am I still here? Why has no one taken me out like a dog and shot me. I'm diseased, a blight upon men. I'm FUCKING CRAZY. I've admitted it to myself. They should do the same. Conciously anyways.
"They all pussyfoot around me. Afraid to set off the madman. I guess I can't blame them I tried to quell the raging storm of that man I called Father, tried to avoid him, avoid my duties. Look where that got me."
He looked down at the empty courtyard. It was still third period, he had ducked out before class started. He wouldn't be missed. Oh, they would know he was gone, but they wouldn't miss him. He laughed, a belittling laugh.
"DENIAL IS NOT THE ANSWER!" He shouted.
He turned more serious, his face falling, a contemplative look slowly dancing across his mouth and eyes.
"Denial and repression are things that will get you into a lot of trouble some day. Look at what it did to me. I'm crazy because I pushed all of my pain and hate and anger into a whole seperate personality. And the greatest part? I got my worst nightmare turned into reality when my split personality split literally and started to try to take over the world and kill people left and right."
He sighed, looking upwards at the clouds and sun, watching them dance across the sky. He lay back, pulling a knife out of a sheath on his calf, hidden by the pants he wore.He had more, in different hding spots on his body.
He held the knife above him, watching the glint of the sun and the distorted reflection of himself on the blade. He could see the scared look in his eyes, the pain of his load. His burden of memories, of hatred and knowledge. The knowledge that he would never be accepted by anyone. He would be alone forever. Even in death he would be alone. Would his darker half come with him? Keep him company in hell?
He laughed again, missing the carefull sound of footsteps approaching. The person was trying to be quiet.
"I guess that no matter what, I'll still be hated. It's so sad to see those peoplw who are so...jaded so early in life. It's even worse to be one of them." He sat up, twirling the knife on the hilt, watching the dazzling metal as it caught the sunlight.
"I wonder. I wonder what would be worse. Hell... Or life. Hell... I'd be punished for my terrible acts... I would have my soul eaten by Ma'at, and I would never be reborn. Probably for the best really. I'd hate to be the next me... Would I be as fucked up then too? But life... life is hell, only it's hell with a twist. My soul is here. It hasn't been devoured, and it continues to feel the pain of it's burden. Maybe I could even out my heavy heart by doing acts of kindness."
He laughed.
"Or I could just listen to my elders, accept that I"m hate, reviled, and otherwisely and idiot and not worthy to be in the prescence of humankind..."
He sighed, taking the blade into his hand, then setting it down to take off his wrist bands. He rubbed the rope marks on his wrists, a grimace forming on his face.
"Scars of a damnable childhood. 'Oh, it won't hurt. We don't believe in knocking you out so that we can carve the story of some dead guy's life on your back. We prefer to hear you scream as the hot blade tears your life apart.' Fuck, I can't even find it in my twisted heart to feel sorry for what I did. I think I was traumatised by the fact that I woke up with my father's blood on me, but when your back is a mass of fiery pain and you just split a part of your psyche...I think I was justified!"
He smiled, and then he looked wistfully at his wrists.
"Open wounds, festering, and they tied me up again, and again and again. Never gave them a chance to heal... Never allowed me to be free for a second."
He took the blade and set it to his wrist, dragging it lightly, too softly to do more than part the top layer of skin... Like a papercut.
"And if I take my life today, who for my soul would know to pray? If I live then who will see the blackest, saddest part of me? Life takes work, death takes fear. Hate...disgust. What to live for here? I know, what yonder star doth shine? The sun which will cleanse my soul... Oh fuck, I forgot the rest. I know the ending though. He choses death, the coward's way out. But should he have chosen life? What worse punishment than living amongst those who revile you. You try sitting in a class of idiots who are so afraid to touch you or make you angry to talk to you. They hate you under their breath, behind your back. What greater punishment than life? What better revenge than a life well lived?"
He smiled sadly, and he took the blade and swiped it fast across one wrist, and fast across the other.
"Not to kill... No, we will live and we will die slowly, as they wish us to. We will die of a broken heart, a broken soul. We are already a broken man, mind, heart, soul. I'll never be me, I'll always be 'we'. I'll never love, I'll never live. I'll be chained again, sitting in the hot desert sun to die... Just like my sister wants. Just like Rashid will never admit he wants. I know. I can see it. Who better to see it and understand it than someone who would do just that, especially back then. Fuck, I think I did... I can't keep track."
He set down the blade, watching the blood drip slowly and congeal out of the somewhat shallow cuts. He rubbed them, watching them bleed more. He lifted a wrist to his mouth and licked it, delicately.
"It tastes the same. I'm just the same as the ones I've killed. Why can't I kill me?"
"Because you're better than that. You know that dying isn't the answer."
Malik turned quickly, staring up at the tall figure standing just feet behind him.
"Jou, what do you want? I'm having a depressing moment, and you're killing the vibe. Let me practice my self-mutilation in peace."
"You're fucked up you know that?"
He smiled, a devilish grin.
"So I've heard. Come, join me. We can tell each other stories about movies we've seen, and how we like to hang out at the arcade. Cut the crap Jou, why do you give half a shit about little old psycho me?"
He glared at the taller boy, letting out a half-sigh half-growl as he sat down, legs crossed, smiling.
"I don't give a crap. I won't lie. But I know what it's like to sit up here. I know what it feels like."
He couldn't help it, he had to laugh.
"Yup. I bet you do, hot stuff."
Jou just gave him a withering glare.
"I haven't had it all sunshine and daisies. I've had my share of crap. I've had to avoid dad's beatings, I've almost killed guys. I've always stopped short though, so you're on your own there. But the point is, you and I got something in common, okay?"
Malik stared at him, incredulous. He then proceded to turn back around and take off his shirt. Jou tried to stifle a gasp as the scar tissue was revealed.
"It's the story of the Pharaoh, y'know, the guy Yuugi's so attatched to? Yeah. Life's been reeeeeal peachy Jou. I wouldn't comapre us that way again. But thanks for trying to cheer me up. I swear I'm not trying to be a bastard. Okay, I'm not trying not to be a bastard, but I've had a shit life, and a shit day. I hate sitting there with those stares, and all the hate there. It makes me... It makes him try to come out and... play."
Jou looked startled.
"Didn't he get banished to the Shadow Realm?"
"The Pharaoh may be a god, may be an amazing shadow player, but you cannot completly banish a psyche. He may mind crush you, and your soul, as well as your mind, will go there. But I'm still alive, so I've retained the other half of my soul, my mind. He's still there, but I'm the dominant personality. It's hard to not let it out and have fun, but I take one step out of line, and I'm roped to the bed, left for the night without food. I even cough maliciously (I don't know HOW that one works, but Isis uses it a lot) I get punished. I'm very sick of life. I'd almost convinced myself to stay alive and suffer the torture now instead of losing my soul to the stomache of Ma'at... But now, it seems a better solution."
He lifted the knife again, holding it to his bared chest, hovering over his heart."
"The heart is a delicate thing. It'a wad of muscle, protected by bones and skin. It's hard to get to, unlike in the movies. You may hit a rib, or catch a lung instead. I used to slit the throat, much easier and a sure fire death. Fast and relatively painless. You bleed out in seconds, and you're so busy trying to breathe to feel the pain."
He smiled at the shade of green Jou was turning.
"Jou, I'm kidding."
Jou just glared, a look that said it all.
"Yeah, right. And I'm a straight A student."
They laughed.
"Alright, it's true. Every word of it. But the thing is, if I wanted to die, I could do so, easily. If I haven't done it by now, I doubt I'll do it later. The sooner the better I should think, with things like that."
He put the knife down and slipped his shirt back on, doing up the buttons. He turned around, staring at the still-seated Jou.
"Thanks for trying to be a savior, but I've got that bit blocked out. I'm living, only because dying is so easy."
They looked at eachother, and slowly Malik left, and Jou sat there, watching the students file out of class, and mill about before the next class.
"Well, at least he's honest..."
He left too.
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Who-ee. That was a strange bit. I was having a very Malik moment a bit ago, and this just... Slipped through my fingers. Oh well. What'd you think? Worth keeping?