Note: Hi! Um, 'tis about Bakura and Ryou. In this story Bakura has the ability to make Ryou hear, see, and feel things. So far this will be a oneshot, I mean, I can't really think of a way to continue it so…yeah, oneshot. Enjoy!
Blah- Ryou thinking
Blah- NOT Ryou or Bakura thinking
Warnings: Mentions of rape and abuse, and scariness.
Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-gi-oh. I just don't.
I don't think I screamed.
I could remember screaming when he hit me, couldn't remember begging him to stop like I had every time before. Running the incident back through my head I became more certain. I hadn't. I hadn't made any noise when he hit me.
Did I scream when he raped me?
I don't think so. I don't remember doing anything. So did I just lay there? Did I just lay there and let it happen again? I suppose I did. I must have just stayed still and let him do it again.
Didn't I beg?
Again, my mind pulled a blank. There was nothing there. Not even the rape. Had I gone into shock? Had my mind dumped the horrible memories? Perhaps that was for the best? Just, ignore that this had happened.
But I couldn't just let it go. He had raped me, the pain in my rear was proof of that. So how did he do it? Had he mocked me by preparing me? Or did he just thrust in dry? Had he put me on my stomach? Or had I been flipped onto my back?
Now without the answers I couldn't seem to get it out of my head. He had beaten me too. Was that before or after the rape? My mind had become fuzzy on the edges, I couldn't think, couldn't remember.
Tears welled up in my eyes. I just wanted to know. I needed to know what had happened, I needed to know which had happened first. I just-.
Bakura walked through the door. Instinctively my entire body pulled into itself. My arms wrapped tightly around my stomach, my legs pulled up to my chest, and my chocolate eyes snapped up to his face.
"Hello hikari." I didn't respond. He moved towards me as I tucked my head down to my knees. He stroked my hair. Don't touch me don't touch me! I flinched, a violent movement that seemed to amuse him more than anything else. "How are you feeling?" Don't patronize me you bastard. I hate you. His fingers traveled over my pearly locks again. "How did your hair get so mussed up?" he chided, the nail of his index finger trailing a pattern on the nape of my neck. My stomach flipped, the rage I felt quickly dissolving into fear leaving a sour taste in the back of my mouth.
I hated that he could do this to me. One second I was ready to kill him, then the with one second of skin on skin contact I was reduced to trembling prey.
I shivered and he smirked, the closest thing to a smile that he could manage. He swept out of the room and suddenly it was easier to breathe. Thinking he had gone for good I unfolded myself from the protective position. I had just put my feet back on the floor when he came back through the door. I froze as if I had been caught doing something I shouldn't have, and was about to raise my knees back up when he told me to get on the floor.
Apprehensively I slid to the ground in front of the couch. Bakura sat down behind me on the love seat, a hair brush in his hand. "We can't have your pretty hair all in a mess, now can we Ryou?" he asked me, taking a chunk of it in his hand and running the brush through slowly, starting at the bottom and working his way to the top. I shivered in answer; but that wasn't enough for him tonight. "I asked you a question, boy." He emphasized his words with a sharp jerk on my hair, drawing a pained gasp from me.
"N-no." I hated the breathy, quivering fear in my voice. He nodded, though the only way I knew was from watching our reflection in the blank TV screen.
"So, how are you, hikari?" he asked for the second time that night. You raped me…again. How do you think I am?
"I'm fine." He continued to turn my hair to silk, a steady rhythm of brush strokes. I'm not sure how long we sat like that, but it seemed far too long to me. I could just barely stand him touching me like this, like he hadn't done anything.
"What did you do today?" Got beaten and raped by you. Again.
"Not much." Silence closed around us again like a tight fist.
Eventually Bakura put the brush down on the seat next to him before he ran his fingertip across one of the dark blooms of color he had caused.
"Where did this come from, yadonushi?" he asked, a mocking laugh in his tone. You. I licked my lips. What answer did he want? What answer wouldn't get me in trouble?
"I…uh…" I stumbled over the words. Did he want me to say they were from him or did he want the story I was going to tell anyone who asked about it. He increased the pressure the bruise and I resisted the urge to clap a hand to my neck.
"It's not a difficult question, yadonushi," he hissed in my ear. I licked my lips again. Well, he obviously knew where it had really come from, so he must want…
"I was rearranging some of the books on my bookshelf and one of them fell and hit my neck," I lied lamely. It was difficult to think of lies for bruises on one's neck. You just don't tend to get bruises there by accident.
Bakura stood up so sharply that it threw me a few feet forward. I flipped from my stomach to my back so fast it made my head spin. My darkness was already standing over me, he had only to sit down and he was straddling my hips. He leaned forward till our faces were inches apart.
"Why do you lie to me you fucking brat!" he demanded. I felt the tears spill over and down my cheeks.
"I-I'm sorry, Bakura! I t-thought-!" He never let me finish, silencing me with a sharp slap across the face.
"What did you think, baka? That I wouldn't know? I know everything about you!" I could do nothing to defend myself, all I could do was turn my face to the side and sob. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me, the motion sent a stab of fear through my chest so intense it felt like I had been stabbed.
Bakura slapped me again. "Shut up." I hiccupped on another sob, trying to stop the flow, but it was too hard. The next sob escaped me and he slapped me again. "Stop crying," he ordered.
"I-I-I ca-an't!" I was trying, really I was, but I just couldn't. His eyes narrowed, two slits of red on an angry face.
"Fine, if you insist on crying I'll give you something to cry about!" he announced, standing up. His hand clamped down on my upper arm in a vise-like grip that almost cut off my circulation. Wrenching me to my feet he dragged me from the room and into the tiny laundry room that our apartment had.
Bakura opened the door of the dryer and looked at me expectantly. I looked at the open door confusedly, then him. He merely rolled his eyes. "Get in." I froze.
"Wh-what?" He growled this time and pushed me towards the door.
"Get in." My breathing sped up, more tears coursing down my already wet cheeks.
"B-Bakura, if you put me in there I'll die. The heat will kill me." He snarled at me.
"I know that. I'm not going to turn it on. You now as well as I do that if you die I die. However, little hikari, there is no light in there," he told me. Again I went very still.
"N-no light?" I repeated dumbly. He smirked, knowing that I was finally catching on.
I had always been afraid of the dark, ever since I was little. In retrospect it seemed like Bakura kept me afraid of the dark, fueling me with horror movies and scary stories. The fact that he had full access to my mind didn't help either.
"Ryou, get in the dryer." I didn't move.
"P-Please Bakura, I'll do anything you want! Please, I-I'm sorry, I should have told you the truth. I'll do anything you want!" He smirked.
"I want you to get in the dryer." I whimpered. "Get in there hikari, or you will regret it." With a hiccup I stuck one foot inside. I was small enough that I fit inside, though I was forced to scrunch up. The whole curved cavern of it kept swaying minutely every time I moved. Sitting up was going to give me a crick in my neck, so I rolled onto my side, cheek laying on the cold metal. "Comfy?" Bakura mocked, then he closed the door with a bang.
I think I lasted a full minute before I started to lose my cool. There was nothing but the sound of my own breathing and the increasingly stuffy air. Pressing my hand to the door I found that I could not open it from the inside. I shifted again, onto my back, then I tried to scoot up the side so I would be sitting up right again.
There was a noise behind me, a tiny tapping noise as if someone had shifted their weight. Fear in the form of bile shot up my throat. There is nothing behind me, there is nothing in here with me. I swallowed hard and put my hand on the door again. I couldn't see anything, not even a line of light from around the door. Wait, was that the door? Or was the door behind me?
I pushed against the metal as if that would help me figure it out. Ryyyou. My stomach clenched in the purest form of terror that I have ever felt in my entire life. Where did that come from? Where could it come from? There was barely room for me in the tiny dryer, let alone another person. Wait, another person? That was ludicrous! I had seen the inside of the machine before I had climbed in, and there was nothing inside it. Ryyyou. There it was again, the barest of whispers. All in you head, all in your head! I pushed my hand harder against what I thought was the door, collecting myself till my breathing returned to a normal rate. There was absolutely nothing in here with me. Nothing.
RYOU! I screamed, a high sound of pure horror that hurt my throat and pounded my fists against the dryer door.
"BAKURA! BAKURA PLEASE!" With a sick feeling growing in my stomach I punched the door, but it stood firmly in place. "Please let me out!! I'm sorry!" I turned my head, and there it was.
A face looked back at me from the darkness, glowing faintly, its skin tinged blue. I screamed again, wordlessly and renewed my efforts to break the door and get out.
A blue-hued hand shot out and curled it's hand around my wrist, pulling me back till I was pressed against a cold torso. I shrieked and tried to pull myself free.
"NO! NO NO NO! BAKURA! BAKURA!" I was sobbing so hard I could barely breathe, I couldn't think past the fear, couldn't stand it. Blindly I kicked at where I though the door was. Then something slimy and wet slid up from under my earlobe to the top of my ear. It licked me! I screamed again and again and again till my throat felt hot and raw, and still I couldn't break free.
My skin crawled and the twisting, sour feeling in my stomach doubled till I thought I would throw up in there, and then, finally, Bakura pulled the door open. Light flooded the little chamber and I found myself pressed against the back of the machine, though nothing held me. I launched myself out of the dryer and stumbled my way into the bathroom. I had barely gotten my head over the toilet when the contents of my stomach spewed out, the force of it bringing me to my knees.
Bakura was behind me, sneering down at me. I looked up a him.
"Brush you teeth hikari," he told me. I dragged myself to my feet and rinsed my mouth a few times before brushing my teeth. "Did you learn your lesson?"
"Yes," I rasped, voice sore. He smiled.
"You didn't like that, did you yadonushi?" I was still crying, though it was just the tears falling down my cheeks rather than the body consuming sobs that had controlled me before.
"You don't want me to do that again, do you?" I whipped around, looking at the sadistic gleam in his eyes, and fell to my knees in front of him. I wrapped my arms around his legs and looked up at him.
"Gods Bakura! Please don't make me go back in there! Please don't do that to me again! I'll do anything you want, say anything, just please don't do it again!" I begged shamelessly. The time I had spent in that dryer had been the most terrifying moments of my entire life, scarier even than when I had learned that my mother and sister were dead.
I knew that Bakura had put the illusion in my head, I knew that it was all fake, but I was still so afraid to repeat it. So I clung to his legs, trembling and begging.
He petted my head.
"Don't worry, aibou. I won't send you back so long as you're a good boy. Now go watch some TV," he told me. I stood and went back to the living room.
Another hour passed and he came into the room. He came straight to me and ran his hand over my tangled tresses.
"How did your hair get so mussed up?" he asked.
O.O So that was a bit scary. Right? I really did try to make it scary.