Bleh. Some weird thingy I wrote one day to hack at a writers block.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
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Ryou groaned, the soft noise gently spilling from his lips as his mind was gently lifted from the foggy cloud of sleep. He clenched his eyes for a moment, his face pressed into his cotton pillow. Ryou yawned, lifting his head from the soft periwinkle cotton so he could look at the clock. Dark mocha orbs slowly drifted open, and Ryou blinked as he struggled to focus on the luminous red numbers that adorned his beside alarm clock. What? 7:59? Ryou's eyes widened, and he blinked again, his mouth falling open. I am so late for school! The whitenette rolled onto his side from his stomach, grabbing the alarm clock and lifting it to his eyes, to make sure that time was not a strange hallucination. Oh no, I'm so-Wait. Ryou's eyes narrowed as he stared at the date in the bottom of the screen. Saturday?
Icy fear gripped at his heart as the plastic alarm clock slid from his fingers. He was sure it was Friday! Ryou let out a long moan. Most teenagers would have merely accepted it was a mental spacing out, and would simply roll over and go back to sleep. Bust most teenagers didn't share their body with a vengeful spirit, who often tended to posses their host's body and not return it for days, sometimes weeks. Oh no, oh no... What has he done this time? Ryou let out a long moan, rolling into his back. His moan turned to a scream the moment he did so, however, a harsh, loud cry of shock and pain as an agony like fire spread up his back. Ryou sat up, his breathing harsh and erratic in fear and hurt. Oh no… Gingerly, the teen slid out from under the sheets, long legs trembling as he stood up. Ryou pitched forward, and almost fell, his knees shaky and weak. He grabbed onto his bedside table for support, his breathing increasing. This isn't good. Ryou groaned as he managed to stand again, with the aid of his table. Not good… How did he manage to hurt himself this time?
Ryou swallowed as he managed to take a few shaky steps across his room to his dresser, and slumped against the wooden surface. He stared at his figure in the mirror for a long moment, noticing with a wince how much weight he was losing. He turned, moving his back again, and gasped as a fresh twinge of pain arched along his back. Oh no… Instinctively, Ryou swept his pale bony fingers over his lower back, and brought them back up to his eyes. No blood. But how was it hurting? Ryou pulled the white cotton shirt he used at night over his head, casting it to the floor. The Ring banged against his chest with a jingle of gold, and Ryou was sure it glimmered. The whitenette blinked, and turned around, twisting his head to stare at his back in the mirror. At first, all Ryou could see was black marks across his lower back. Fear gripped like an icy fist at his heart, and with trembling fingers, the teenager lowered the waistband of his boxers an inch, staring at the black again. No! H-How dare he!
A tattoo! A tattoo! Ryou let out a cry, shifting his gaze from his reflection to the golden trinket that hung around his neck. The eye of Horus merely stared back up at him, emotionless and blank. How could he? This is my body!
/Sure/
Ryou froze at the voice in his mind, that cold, sardonic voice, dark, husky, and dripping with venom. The fist over his heart tightened, and his breath caught in his throat. The whitenette closed his eyes, turning his head back to the mirror slowly. Eventually, however, Ryou had to open his eyes, and read what the spirit had decided to get tattooed across his lower back.
NO.
NO!
Tears filled Ryou's eyes in an instant as he stared at the five words in bold, black lettering. He whimpered, and a quivering finger gently prodded the first letter. Ryou let out a hiss of pain, arching his back as he closed his eyes. It was real. No! You can't do this to me! You can't, you can't you can't! It's not true! It's not true…
"Oh really?" Ryou gasped, opening his dark eyes glistening with tears and turning on his heel. He stared at his image in the reflection, a sixteen-year-old boy, small and scrawny for his age, eyes unnaturally soft and large. His hair was messy and tangled from sleep, and tumbled across slim rounded shoulders and back. He couldn't look at the ring. He couldn't look at the spirit either, standing with his arms crossed just beside the teen. Ryou buried his face in his hands, bowing his head so his white hair fell across his face, hiding it further.
"Stay away from me." Ryou finally managed to whisper, struggling in vain to suppress the heart-wrenching sobs that wracked his small frame. "G-G-Go away…" The yami beside him only raised a snowy eyebrow, a smirk forming on his demonic features.
"I don't believe you are in any position to be giving orders, Yadonushi." Bakura spat, now glaring at Ryou's shaking form. The whitenette merely sniffed, shaking his head. No no no no no… Bakura snarled. "Stop crying." Ryou let out a choked hiccup, his breath shaking. "Yadonushi!"
"I-I'm n-n-not." Ryou sobbed, lifting his head from his hands. His hair was bushier than ever, with body that rivaled the yami. "N-N-Not." Bakura snarled, and extended an ethereal hand. Ryou whimpered, a soft sound like a wounded animal, and flinched away as through he were expecting a blow, ghostly as Bakura's hands were. Instead, the demon placed an indistinct finger on Ryou's lower back, over the very first letter tattooed onto his skin, the ebony ink contrasting sharply with the teens ivory skin. Ryou shivered at the touch, the demon's fingers colder than ice. His knees were feeling weak again, and his arms were shaking. The whitenette placed two hands on the wood of his dressing table to support himself, pearly hair falling into his eyes. Ryou shook harder as Bakura continued to trace the sentence that had been scarred into his back, the fist of ice threatening to shatter his pounding heart. By the time Bakura had started on the last word, Ryou's weak trembling arms gave out on him, and the brown-eyed teen collapsed against the dresser, sinking to his knees. Bakura stood back and stared as Ryou's sobs returned in full force, slender shoulders shaking. "Y-Y-You c-c-can't… Y-You're n-n-not…"
"Wake up, Yadonushi." Bakura leaned forward and whispered into the crying teens' ear. Ryou cringed away from the demon's stale breath, tears trickling down his soft, youthful cheeks. "I own you. Everything you are belongs to me. You are nothing. Do you understand that, Yadonushi? Nothing." Ryou sobbed, his back still aching. "That is why I did this. So you will always belong to me. Always." Ryou shook his head, but the motion was weak and half-hearted. Bakura smirked, and began to chuckle. Ryou held his hands over his ears, but the creamy digits did nothing as Bakura began to laugh harder, his shoulders shaking as he threw back his head and laughed and laughed.
"Stop." Ryou whispered, his soft, trembling voice drowned out by the yami's almost hysterical laugh. "Please, stop. Y-Y-You're not…" Bakura was still laughing as he disappeared, his corporeal form fading as he retreated to the Ring, which flared up momentarily against Ryou's chest, and then lay limp, only slightly warm, as though it had been in the sun for an hour or so. He left Ryou on his knees, slumped against the wooden dresser in his tiny room, sobbing and shaking for a very long time. Occasionally, Ryou would lift a trembling hand to the lower part of his back, the curving plane of ivory skin barely an inch above his rear. His fingers shook as he traced the outline of the five words tattooed into his skin, an eternal reminder of what Bakura had been hissing in his ear for years. That he was nothing, a piece of dirt, a slave, a dog. Nothing.
PROPERTY OF YAMI NO BAKURA.
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R&R? No? Don't blame ya. It's odd.