A blade clattered to the floor. The priest jolted awake, mentally preparing himself for a fight.
Unfortunately, all Mahaad's preparedness earned him was the raucous laughter of the thief. Bakura enjoying the look of dismay on his prisoner as he remembered what had happened.
"Oops," the thief chuckled. "Clumsy me. Ah well, no harm done. No, that comes next."
The priest stared at the floor in a slump.
"Unfortunate about your bad mood though magician. I feel bad for waking you. I'll tell you what. I'll play with my knives with you. That always cheers me up."
The thief snatched a clump of Mahaad's hair and jerked his head upwards. The priest winced and tensed his muscles at the discomfort.
"Come on now, I'm being so friendly and I don't even get a 'thank you?' You won't even look at me when I'm talking to you."
"Why won't you just leave me alone Bakura? Haven't you done enough to me?" he asked.
"Oh no, not nearly. Don't you worry though. I'll let you know when that happens."
He yanked the priest's hair backwards, slamming his head forcefully against the wall. Mahaad gasped with pain.
The thief smirked. "Still not yet though."
The priest grit his teeth. He refused to let Bakura bait him.
Bakura picked up the dropped knife from the ground and skillfully twirled it around his fingers. "As I was saying, I think a few knives would be very good for you."
Mahaad didn't respond.
"Oh magician you're so stubborn. I honestly thought you would have stopped rebelling by now." He licked the knife slowly, staring malevolently at Mahaad. "I guess that's fine with me. The longer you keep resisting the more satisfying it will be to finally crush your spirit."
The priest still gave no response.
"Ah well." Bakura shrugged, then swiftly drew the knife across the priest's chest diagonally.
There it was again. That feeling. That icy cold razor-sharp blade slicing through his skin. Time slowed to a crawl as the knife tear through more and more of his skin. Finally the incision was finished and that awful iciness left him. He bit hard on his lip to keep himself from screaming from the pain exploding from his chest. Blood trickled down and dripped off his chin. He became overwhelmed by the angry protests of his chest as they overloaded his senses.
Then came that terrible laugh, cutting straight through the pain. Such a terrible guffaw of a lunatic. With each laugh the priest was reminded of the perverted glee that monster drew from the pain of others. It filled him with a sick feeling on top of everything else. How could such a terrible monster exist?
Mahaad shut his eyes, trying to cope with his physical and mental agony, wishing it would all just stop.
"What's the matter prettyboy?" sniggered the thief. "Afraid of a little blood?" He pried the priest's eyes open with his hands. "Go on, look at yourself you pathetic excuse for a priest. Go on and look at what a lowlife thief has done to you."
Mahaad looked at his marred and bloodied body. These wounds were a constant reminder of the priest's failure to protect his Pharaoh. From his half-starved burned stomach to his bloodied face to his bruised chest, he saw how horribly disfigured he was. He longed to rage at his tormentor, to try to fight, yet all he could feel was despair. Any resistance he could muster was gone.
"I adore looking at my handiwork. I'd say I've done a pretty good job on you so far." The thief's lips formed a cruel smile. "Oh no, I missed a spot. I'd better fix that right away."
He dug the tip of the knife mercilessly into the priest's shoulder, causing Mahaad to ball his fists and clamp his mouth shut as he tried to control his agony.
"Stubborn, stubborn, Mahaad," he tsked as one might a small child. "It would be so much easier for you if you'd just give in to the pain. Just stop struggling and beg a little. That's all I'm asking for." He dug the blade in deeper.
Tears flowed down the priest's face as he silently fought to keep from screaming. He was overwhelmed with the pain of the knife digging into him.
"Come on magician. It's so easy."
Strong hatred grew rapidly inside the priest. None of it was his fault, he tried his hardest to protect Atem, but had to sacrifice himself instead. No, it was that vile thief who was at fault here. He was the one who tried to kill his Pharaoh, he was the caused all of this to happen. Rage bubbled up inside of him and burst out.
"Never!" roared the priest defiantly. This outburst invigorated him, yet drained his resistance as he felt his injuries much more clearly. He succumbed to the pain and slipped into unconsciousness.