At Fault

I never thought it would happen. And maybe that's naïve of me to think considering the situation. But to be honest I never thought he'd get so bad. Now I know it's not fair of me to blame it on him. He tried. He tried to fit in with the rest of the world. But he never really could. It was if he was afraid of the possibility of being a part of the world.

He always was the secluded one. I usually never pressed him into much. Maybe every now and then I'd convince him to go with us to a movie or to the mall. And every now then he'd make a small attempt to smile, or even hint one. But as of late these rare occurrences seem to have been further apart and lasted even shorter than they already were. Some times it was hard to look at him. To see the abuse he'd put himself through. How pale his skin had become and how his naturally lanky body had seemed to shrink. His eyes lost their luster and he never quite seemed to be there.

He never spoke to us about his problems, his past, or his thoughts. So none of us ever realized that every insult, every death threat, and even the occasional swing of his fist, was his cry for help. Maybe it was the thief in him that prevented him from coming forth. Maybe it was his pride. But in the end he'd stripped himself down to nothing. The pride he had in his abilities, the satisfaction of knowing that nine times out of ten he proved to be right, the fact that he knew he had the capability to do any thing he wanted…they all fell insignificant.

His pain went unnoticed for so long that he could no longer tell the difference. I had the distinct feeling that he wanted to die. But I believe he was afraid to. Whether or not I'm right doesn't matter. I do think, in my heart he couldn't do it.

It's hard to stand here. Watching him through his window. To see him clutching his head in pain as he silently screams at the voices that have finally made him snap. How he begs them, to tears, for them to stop. And how he cries out for hours. I watch him slide down the wall with both of his hands pressed on the wall as he goes down facing the cushioned wall.

He doesn't look at the window. He knows all he'll see is his own reflection in the one way glass. I don't think he can look at himself anymore. He seems too ashamed to. He never told me of the things that happened to him, the things that drove him to his insanity those many many years ago before he was sealed. These things that I know are breaking him into pieces now.

I want to stop looking but I feel guilty. It was I who brought him here, to save him from himself. And give him a chance to maybe one day recover. Despite the common belief, Bakura never hurt me. He protected me. He was there for me when all of the others weren't. He was my safety. And, well, I never thought that maybe he needed it more than I.

I can feel the tears rolling down my face. I can feel a part of my own heart breaking. For the trouble he's caused and the annoyance he may have added, he was the only one I can't live with out. I can remember the first time he ever said kind words to me. Words that weren't fake. When he told me that my life was more important that anything else to him.

I never thought…Until I walked into the apartment that day. I immediately noticed that something was wrong. Bakura had never failed to leave the lights on for when I got back from my study group late. But it was dark. The only light I found on was the bathroom light down the hall. I knew something happened. Along with it never being so dark, it was also never so quiet. Bakura loved to listen to music. And seldom ever had the radio off…But there was silence.
Dead, utterly painful, silence.

I walked down the hall, listening for any sound. But I still didn't hear anything. I became worried like I never had been about him. I hesitantly turned the corner and stepped a foot into the bathroom. I recoiled it just as quickly as I set it was I realized I'd stepped in something.

Imagine my horror to find the red smears of blood across the white tiles. Or the even worse sight of Bakura sitting in it. So I called...He needed help. But now that I see him like this. In my mind I believe that maybe it would have been better if he'd killed himself. Now...He's unable to relieve his pain, even if he wanted to. Now he must suffer. I can't but feel like I'm at fault. I just wanted to help him. My love for him made me WANT him to get better. But I should have known. I should have known that he was beyond helping.

I loved him. I know that if maybe I'd tried to help him before...Maybe I could have reached him. But he's gone. The Bakura I knew is not longer the same. He's not the same yami I used to have. And as mean as he was I do miss him. So I have to leave him...But I'll never forget the look on his face. He will haunt me in my sleep, in my dreams. And I will always remember how I put him where he is now...I suppose that is my punishment.

Owari
xxx

Leo: Depressing neh? I was bored...And I managed a no dialogue oneshot! Woot!