Hello! Sorry it's taken me so long to update. I've been working on another story and I got sidetracked. Hopefully this chapter makes up for it. WARNING: GRAPHIC TOURTURE HAEAD! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! Enjoy!

Split Apart

What was going to happen to him? Atemu had heard that when one is close to death his life may flash before his eyes. As the red masked man began rummaging through things away from his view he began thinking back to his life. Why was this being done to him? Hadn't he always been a good person? What could he have done wrong to deserve being taken away to be used for God knows what? A screech. His captor was moving something close to him. It sounded like metal. He never got to tell Yugi how proud he was of him. He never got to hold him after the game. He never had the chance to tell his mother he loved her before he left, or hug his father. He had been in too much of a hurry to bother. Did they know how much he loved them all? His hand came in contact with what he realized was a metal table as it was pushed under his right hand. He struggled against his restraints, grunting through the cloth in his mouth. His captor ignored him. Suddenly his arm felt cool. There was cold air blowing on his arm. Dread filling his chest like water he strained his neck and looked to the source of the cold...and began struggling harder. The red man was carefully lifting a large, flat slab of dry ice, his hands protected by gloves. And he was coming towards Atemu.

The man forced Atemu's hand up, then slid the ice under his palm. The biting cold burned and stung and he could feel his skin sticking uncomfortably against the ice. The red man forced Atemu's palm to press against the ice as he added another slab to the top. He pressed the ice in to the skin and Atemu cried out in pain as the cold both burned and numbed his hand at the same time. He imagined he could already feel his very veins freezing over. The red man picked up a black metal tool of some kind-Atemu was too distracted with the pain to tell what, and he put one end under the table then the other on the top of his iced hand. Then he placed a screw in the socket and began turning a lever around. It was a compressor. The ice was forced to press as hard as it could in to his hand, and as the screw turned and the ice closed in Atemu screamed.

The office was abuzz with activity as the phones rang, files were brought forward and members of the forensics team poured over what might have been found at the Sennen house. Tristian sat at his desk in the corner of the room, observing it all with tired eyes. The killer had caught another victim and the town was looking for answers. So far the killer's " Taste" had become his calling-card: Young, talented kids from well-to-do families. And if Atemu was eventually found he feared it would be in the same manner the others had been. Atemu was actually one of three kids this psychopath had caught. The first was a boy named Noah Kaiba. Some years ago the boy had been kidnapped in broad daylight from the park, no witnesses. No forewarning. A month later the boy had been found hanging on a tree by the neck, his body disfigured and his limbs severely damaged. Both hands had been cut off completely and his left leg had been missing. And the youngster's eyes had been gouged out, a bloody white cloth concealing them from view. He had been well respected in life, a talented cello player and from what he had heard... a very gifted young man when it came to electronics. There wasn't a computer or program he hadn't met that disagreed with him. He had so much promise. He died at fourteen years old. Last he heard the family head Gozoboro Kaiba had adopted two boys, brothers. And the oldest was head of the company now.

Miho had been the second. She was a beautiful young girl with a talent for playing the violin and was well-liked and was well recieved by teachers as her studies showed a near-perfect grade average. She had been found only weeks ago in Domino harbor with her fingers cut off and her right leg severed from her body. She was nineteen years old. Had she lived she could have grown up to be an elite violinist, or a very successful doctor. Her parents had said she had just begun taking doctoral courses at college. It was a shame to see such a promising young life put to rest so cruelly. The similaties of the bodie's conditions when they were found alerted Tristan to the fact that they may be dealing with the same killer. And now it seemed it was Atemu's turn.

He didn't know how long it had been. It couldn't have been for naught but a few hours. To Atemu the pain dragging through his senses dulling his perception...time had no real meaning. Trapped in a dark room with only a lit fireplace as his light he had no way of knowing whether it was night or day. The time seemed eternal to him. His hand was beyond burning. It had numbed out somewhat...but the discomfort of the cold was unbearable. The door to his room opened and the footstepps began. Soon he was facing the red man, his fadora hat casting shadows over his cloth masked face. The overhead light was turned on again and Atemu groaned as the light stung his eyes. He heard a metal squesk and he looked at the ice trapping him. The man had begun loosening the screw and the pain flared up unbearably as the pressure was slowly relieved. Atemu screamed and cried out as the device came off and the ice's cold hold weakened. With almost taunting slowness the man began slowly lifting the ice away from his hand, and Atemu watched in horror as the ice was peeled back, taking a nice helping of his skin with it, blackened with freezer burn and bloody as his hand was flayed by the ice. Yet the blood did not flow continuously. It painted his tarnished skin. Atemu Screamed as his flesh was ripped away and his hand was exposed to the air. It was almost worse than the ice itself had been. But then the worst began. His heart sped up in pace greatly as the masked man took up a shining blade in his hand.

It was crafted with red glass and shimmered sinisterly in the light. The blade was brought down slowly...and the red man slowly began cutting off Atemu's middle finger. He screamed through his cloth and his body arched as much as his confines allowed as his captor slowly cut the finger down it's length...then pressed down hard and severed the digit completely. The digit fell uselessly against the table and dripped blood slowly. Then the blade touched his palm... and slowly dragged up his palm to his wrist. More blood. If there was an angel there it came too late to save his hand, but just in time to allow Atemu to pass out from the pain and grant him a moment's reprieve. He succumbed to the darkness and knew no more pain. He saw his mother, his father, his friends and his love all waiting for him. Reaching out to him and he wished with all of his heart he could go to them. But then in his dreams somethng happened he did not expect. He heard a scream and turned around.

It was him, staring at himself. A mirror? Atemu and Atemu approached eachother slowly...then their right hand came up, blood leaking everywhere...and ruined skin met ruined skin. He looked up at the same time as the other and realized no mirror could have given him/them this leve of interaction. Atemu began to wonder if he was dying. And if so...was he a spirit touching his own corpse? If that was the case then he would accept death. He welcomed it. He would miss those he left behind but he knew he would see them again someday. Perhaps this sense of knowing came with death. Maybe he had known all along he was going to die here in this dark place. But then if he was really so at peace with this notion, then why did his reflection look so afraid?

It had been eight days since Atemu Sennen had gone missing. Rangers and local townspeople had trekked the woods, led by bloodhounds FBI trained. Their barking could be heard through the forest in to town. Flyers depicting his picture and describing when he was last seen were scattered like snow all around Domino. In the office Detective Taylor and his partner Detective Mazaki sat across form eachother at the desk, pouring over files filled with Atemu's medical history, testimonies of friends and family and statements from his college professors. Sadly it wasn't much to go on, considering most of the information given to them the duo already know. " Tristian." The detective looked up from the file and brown met blue as Anzu sat down across from her partner. " Do you think we'll find him alive?" She asked, her eyes filled with worry. Tristian sighed and rubbed his eyes.

" I pray we find all of our cases alive. And when we don't...if we don't...I pray they are at peace wherever they may be now." Unbeknownst to them Atemu was far from being at peace. Currently he was screaming again. He seemed to be doing alot of that lately. The red man never spoke to him, never gave him reprieve from his pain. The red blade worked slowly on him. Atemu was certain by now his keeper intended to take his leg. Every few hours he would cut his right leg- just above the knee. He elongated the cut until it was all the way around his leg...and every cut got subtlely deeper. And when it tried to heal that only encouraged the red man to cut harder. He could have sworn he felt the blade scrape his bones. The blood would only be cleaned away from his leg, just so the red man could keep track of where to cut. The room was filled with the coppery scent, so strong now it made Atemu feel sick. Even worse to feel the spilled blood left unchecked coagulating against his skin. His hand was gone now, completely nonexistent from the wrist down. A white cloth had been tied crudely to the appendage.

Every time he awoke the blue pill was forced in to his mouth and he was forced to stay awake until the effects of the drug or the bloodloss let his mind retreat to dreams again. His captor would remove the gag but once every day ( He assumed) to let water pass by his lips and hoarse throat. And he had to force-feed Atemu a ham and cheese sandwich. Atemu wanted no pity from this thing. Still his wants did not signify with the red man and he was forced the meager nutrition. Atemu felt like he was being split in two and four and ten and then a thousand ways as his emotions were constantly taxed by the pain. He wanted to die. He wanted to live to see the bastard's throat cut wide open. He wanted it to end. One way or another, whether by his own death or the red man's he would see it end. But how long would he be forced to survive until then? ' How can I run when I can barely breathe anymore?'

It was dusty. The air was cool and calm. He knew he was outside. The lids of his eyes were assaulted as bright lights flashed in his face. He would have looked up...but he was too tired. Maybe he was dead. If he opened his eyes would he see heaven? Did that place exist? Voices around him...who were they? Someone screamed. Someone yelled. 911...who said to call 911? Would they bother? If he was dead now then why did he need to go to the hospital? Then he deamed. His dreams held a very prominent visitor as of late. It was him...but was it him? Staring at his own tourtured and bloodied body with such acceptance. Who could ever accept death? And why? Okay...maybe he had done something to warrant his death. But he didn't want to die! A dim beep...and another...and another. A heart monitor? Was that death's metaphorical way of saying he was dying? No...the beeping was getting louder and he was getting dimmer. Or, his reflection was. Slowly his eyes opened. Bright lights overhead. People dressed in blue.

Masks covered their faces...blue masks. Eyes peered down at him in a way he couldn't begin to identify. Voices flaoted in and out of his ears as his breathing became louder to his own ears and his eyes began to take in everything...including the blood splattered on the blue robes of a man hovering over him. " Blood pressure is increasing. Heart rate is becoming erratic. Oh, fuck he's awake."

" For goodness sake!"

" Keep his oxegen going!"

" Increasing his thiopental." His body began to shake and he tried to move.

" Hold him still! The artery hasn't been closed yet!" Firm hands bathed with blue forcing him down as the lights glared in to his eyes. The world misted and fogged over. Then he succumbed to dreaming and the mirror was back. He stared at himself and again he reached up...they reached up and bloody hand touched bloody hand. For the first time he spoke to his reflection.

" Am I dying?" Surprisingly the reflection's lips didn't move when he asked. Weren't reflections supposed to mimic you? No...not this one. This reflection spoke back.

" I think I might be."

" You?"

" You."

" Who are you?"

" Who are you?"

All done! Weird chapter, right? I promise it'll make sense later. Next chapter Atemu wakes up and is reuntited with his family...sort of. And then havoc begins! pleaseR&R and have a nice day!