A/N:And here's chapter two! I'm thinking that there'll be three, maybe four chapters in all. So remember to keep reading! Please enjoy!

Disclaimer: If I owned YuGiOh, all the characters would be forced to play their own game correctly. (mind=blown)

...

It was moving again.
It, hmm?

It, not he. Ryou refused to refer to that - that thing as he. Because if it was a he, then it was a person. If it was a person, then it existed.

Nightmares are its.

This was just a nightmare.

There was no laughter echoing in his mind as he repeated the words, over and over again. Nobody was mocking him for his feeble mindedness. And if someone was, it was just his conscience.

That brought the laughter to an abrupt halt, but Ryou didn't care because it was never there in the first place.
Me? As a conscience? Hah...

"Don't refer to yourself as 'I'," he snapped, cheeks turning red as he broke his own game. "You don't... you're not..."

So we're talking to ourselves now, are we~?

Stiffening, the teen rolled over in his bed to stare up at the ceiling once more. He hated these 'talks', he hated them. Every single night, it would always be up and moving around like some nocturnal beast, and it would always wake him up on purpose, just to mock him. Just to remind him. Just so it could tango, play and win at a game that Ryou only designed for one.

"I'm going to sleep now."

One day you'll be forced to acknowledge me, and you will become just as insane as I am.
You will.

His eyes squished shut. Its parting words were always the same. That means it's just a bad recording, right? Something that it must have said when "It" still existed.

So when it added on to its forboding statement and shattered the perfect stillness a mere two minutes later, it was perfectly understandable for Ryou to bolt straight upwards in bed, hands over his heart and mouth open in a silent scream.

(And that day is today.)

Lilting, gleeful, whispered words. Frozen words, words he never wanted to hear, not from someone -
Someone? I'm winning already, it would seem...

Still uncomprehending, wide brown eyes snapped to the alarm clock resting on his bedside table.

12:00.
Cool red numbers flashed gently, pressing long and unassuming fingers up against the suffocating darkness.

12:00.

Good morning, yadonushi ~
It's the last one you'll ever have.

A/N: Tell me how I did?