A/N: This is ready. i have really nothing much to say about this, expect that I would have put this up earlier, but for some reason didn't let me log in. A lot of things happening in this chapter, try not to get too confused. :D
Disclaimer: Meh, not owns dah Yu-gi-oh.
8. Pretty Face and a Heart to Stab
Yami stared at the knife in his hands. Its blade shined dimly under all the blood covering it. What Yami found odd, and kinda scary too, was that after a coldblooded murder the handle was still warm. Yami closed his own cold hand around the handle. A determined look crossed his face. Bakura stood beside Yami, studying him with his keen eyes.
"Are we ready?" Bakura asked. "Usually people, who are clever don't hang around in a killing scene, especially if they did it."
Yami raised his gaze and nodded slowly. Bakura smiled, but the smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. He passed the corpse, not giving it a second look. This time Yami floated beside him, not behind him, as they left the corpse behind to be found by someone, sometime, hopefully not soon.
Then they just wandered.
Two figures knives in their hands, other soaking in blood, other almost transparent, both silent, trying to find a corpse, or actually turn someone into one.
What if someone saw them now, Yami wondered. The poor person would think that he was seeing ghosts. Well, that person would be not so far away from the truth. They were spirits. Used to. Well Bakura used to, but Yami was still. Everybody could see through him, so that meant he must be a ghost, If he didn't hold the knife nobody couldn't see him. Yup, definitely a ghost. Bakura was kinda ghostly too, drying blood shining in his white hair, pale and thin. If he wasn't a ghost... Well he definitely wasn't a normal person either.
But nobody saw them. Yami thanked every god he knew for watching his back, and he knew a lot. They had wandered to the areas that were farther from the center of the city. Here the houses were smaller and more cozy. Without a word Bakura pointed at one of the houses, that he thought was a good one. Yami nodded and they silently crossed the road to the house. Immediately Bakura started picking the lock of the door, and Yami stood behind him watching around for passersby.
Of course Yami could just go through the door, like a real ghost. But he really didn't want to, his knife would stay outside and Bakura couldn't go through doors. Yami felt that it would be better if Bakura was with him. Yami didn't know why. Bakura wasn't there for Yami. He was just curious and would love to see Yami struggling and in the end dying just as much as he would love to see him kill someone. Maybe Yami thought that if Bakura was there with him, he could really do it. And maybe Bakura deserved to be there, if he wanted to, and he clearly did. Bakura, after all, was a such-kind of psycho who enjoyed everything blood, from killing to random nose bleeding.
The lock of the door clicked open and two ghost-like creatures enters.
Yami knew and so did Bakura that Yami couldn't kill outside. Indoor was a great place for beginners.
In the warmth and darkness of the house, after closing the door, Bakura pointed at the stairs and Yami nodded. He understood. It was his turn to go first and Bakura's to follow. Yami went the stairs up first, squeezing the knife in his hand and Bakura followed, silent as a ghost, he wasn't.
Yami looked around in pitch black upstairs. His eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness. Now, which one of the rooms was the bedroom? There were three doors Yami could see. One had to be bathroom, and the other two bedrooms then, maybe.
Yami tried the first door, in his right side, and bingo!
A bedroom, neatly furnished, was the sight opening in front of Yami.
And on the bed, far away form the door, laid his victim. A woman. No, a girl. At least that's how Yami thought. Everybody compared to him were nothing but mere kids, expect Bakura. Yami could fell a guilty piece stuck in his throat as he watched the sleeping lump. He swallowed painfully, but entered the room, Bakura right behind him. Bakura positioned himself to the farthest corner from the bed he could. He put his knives away and motioned Yami to get closer to the girl.
Yami still holding his knife, in a matter that made him look like he was really going to stab somebody, did what he was told to. He stopped breathing and crept closer.
The girl or the woman, which way you want to put it seemed like 25-year-old. Her hair was dark, probably brown. She wasn't really beautiful, but you could call her pretty. She was peacefully asleep. She was a victim, Yami's victim.
Yami didn't stab the girl, not yet. He stood frozen still, and pondered.
What was this girl?
She had a name, background, family, friends, possible lover, a life. But it meant nothing to Yami, it shouldn't. To Yami she shouldn't be nothing more than a pretty face and a heart to stab. Nothing less, nothing more. She was here to die. She should die, so Yami could save his selfish ass, right?
Yami had never believed in destiny. That some god just said when you should lay down and die. So why should this girl just wait and die? Yami didn't believe he had been destined to live forever, that gods up somewhere just forgot to set a day for his death. So why shouldn't he live then? Yami had never questioned it, it just was. He was going to live forever and that's it. Yami had never cursed it, never before did he need to do anything for it, until now...
He needed...
He needed to know something. That girl shouldn't be just a pretty face and a heart to stab.
Yami turned to face Bakura who was waiting in the dark.
"I want to see her eyes," Yami demanded.
Bakura raised his eyebrows.
"I want to see her eyes," Yami repeated, his voice nothing more than a hiss.
Bakura nodded and walked next to the sleeping girl.
To Yami it seemed like Bakura understood. Maybe he had gone through all the same things, all the same feelings. To Yami's knowledge Bakura had killed back in ancient Egypt. But when was his first kill, that Yami did not know.
Bakura stood in the other side of the bed than Yami, the side which was farther away from the door. He examined the girl's face, completely expressionless. Yami did not know what Bakura was looking for, but soon Bakura held out his hand few inches off girl's face. The matter he did it made it look like the other yami was watching an already lifeless body, not really knowing who she was but being polite enough to look a little sad. Then Bakura slammed his hand on girl's mouth.
As soon as the bloody skin touched her lips, the girl's eyes shot open, but she was smart enough and tried not to scream. Yami could see how girl's small pupils were not focused into anything, her heart pounding in her chest loudly, as she took a deep calming breath, and then another. When regaining enough composure she tilted her head a little so she could see Bakura.
Yami couldn't even start to think what it felt like to wake up someones hand on your mouth, when you could smell the blood, you could taste it.
But she understood. She didn't scream, didn't try to struggle. She knew what was the punishment for that. She was more mature than she looked like.
Gently Bakura put his hand to the both sides of her head and turned it, so instead of him she faced Yami, her future killer.
Woman's eyes widened, when she saw Yami, or through him. But she didn't move.
Bakura took his hands away and retreated into the shadows.
Yami, his cold hand holding the knife, so she could see it too, looked into her eyes. Full of life, they were, those clear green eyes. Full of fear, they were, and slowly darkening unreadable.
Now she was a pretty face, a heart to stab and green eyes. Not much. But Yami didn't want to know more. Anything more he would see. He would see how the life would disappear from those eyes, like lights turned off. He would see the blood, feel the blood, red and warm, as it would run through his fingers, which would turn into solid again. He would hear her last heartbeats. Thump, thump.
How fast does the body turn cold? He would know how fast the body turns could, he would feel it, the warmth escaping the lifeless body. And then he wouldn't need anything more in his life. He wouldn't want anything more. The lust for blood would be all he need. It would control him, his actions, his feelings, his life.
He would kill again...
Yami raised the knife, ready to stab.
...He would stab their heart.
And when that wasn't enough...
The woman waited
...He would play with them.
When nothing could control his blood lust...
The shadows waited.
...He would shred them into pieces.
When he needed more...
Bakura waited.
...He would pop their eyes, and make them cry blood.
For him. For his own sadistic needs. To settle the beast inside him.
The knife slipped through Yami's hand, and he let out a small whimper when the knife hit the floor, letting out a small thud.
The woman saw it coming. She jumped up, dashed through Yami, and to the door. She seemed completely unaffected, like Yami was nothing but air. She opened the door and ran out.
"Fuck!" Bakura yelled, as he appeared from the shadows, both knives in his hands. He ran after the girl, not giving Yami a second look.
Yami stared blankly forward.
He wanted to scream, but he couldn't. He wanted to throw up, but he couldn't. He wanted to breath, but he couldn't.
He felt nothing. A pretty face and a heart to stab couldn't help him anymore. He had lost it. He was too late. He was dying.
Bakura caught the girl downstairs. He crapped her by the pajama's collar and slammed her against the wall.
The girl let out a small 'oof' when all the air was forced out of her lungs.
Bakura held the girl up against the wall and put his knife on her throat.
"You will soon find out that I'm far more dangerous than my ghostly friend," he snarled, eyes full of mad rage.
The girl gulped loudly.
Suddenly the Millennium Ring started shining and humming on Bakura's chest. Both the girl and Bakura looked it in disbelief. The time stood still.
Yami always thought that air felt like nothing, but he was wrong. Nothing felt like nothing. And he missed the air. How it felt against his skin, how it filled his lungs.
Nothing looked like nothing too.
Yami knew he was still in that room, where he had disappeared, but really he wasn't there. He was nowhere.
Yami simply panicked, not able the feel anything. The cold hand of purest fear clasped his stomach. Yami never wanted to scream this much in his entire life. He just wanted to open his mouth and let it all out in one scream, but he couldn't. He had no voice.
Yami wanted to cry from the bottom of his heart, and pull his hair out, but he couldn't. He had no tears. He couldn't feel his heart. He had no hands. He had nothing.
So was he here, in the nothingness for the rest of eternity? Could you even be in nowhere? Could you exist if you were nothing?
Yami felt fear no more. That was a bad sign. Fear was always the last one to let go. But now that fear was gone, Yami could think again. He felt rational. He held to that feeling, and felt something else.
Something heavy on his chest. He looked down. The Millennium Puzzle. His Puzzle. Could Shadow Magic fill the nothingness?
Yami felt like blinking, but obviously he had no eyelids to close and open. Realization crept to him. The Puzzle was a memory, and so was his chest. His memories let him see them. His memories were still there, safely in his head. Slowly fading, the oldest first. Yami still had some time.
Yami remembered his hands. He put them on his Puzzle, nice solid hands, on nice solid metal. He remembered his Magic, how it felt. The Magic started dwelling around him.
'Help me,' Yami pleaded the Magic.
The Shadow Magic remembered. It remembered him. It remembered a spell, never before used. Yami remembered his voice. He started chanting. His voice couldn't fill the nothingness. A single golden flame, that erupted from the Puzzle couldn't fill it either, so it disappeared. The spell was finished.
Yami's hand slipped away from the puzzle.
He fell...
His knees touched the ground. Solid ground. Wooden floor of the room. His body fell. The floor caught him.
Yami opened his eyes.
He felt very alive. He was very alive.
He laid on the floor and stared at Bakura standing in the center of the darkness, which filled the room.
Bakura held out a small ball in his hands and stared at it, biting his lower lip, deep in thought.
After long searching Yami found his voice.
"Ba...ku...ra..." he whispered. It felt hard to speak.
Bakura heard him, that was sure, but he didn't look at him.
"I don't know what you did, but it sure worked," Bakura mumbled.
Yami didn't get what Bakura was talking about. Sighing Bakura raised his gaze to the ceiling and closed his hand around the ball. As soon as yami's fingers toughed it, it disappeared. They were like this for a while. Bakura staring at the ceiling, and Yami lying on the floor. Then Bakura turned to look at Yami directly into his eyes.
And in a sudden flash of image Yami got it. His eyes widened.
Bakura walked to him, bowed down, so their face's were at the same level and whispered, his voice echoing in the silent house:
"Be a good hikari, and nobody has to die."
A/N: I'll go to read French now. I have a test Friday. Au revoir, mon amis!