Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Him ❯ Him ( One-Shot )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

The rambling of a Hikari's relationship with his Yami. Unknown POV, either Malik or Ryou.

Disclaimer: I don't own Yugioh...and if I did...let's just say it wouldn't be such a "kiddy" show XD

Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Angst | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 06.16.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 746 | Visits: 751 | Status: Completed

Him

How long has it been since I've gone to bed without any pain ripping across my body? When was the last time I could take a shower without seeing the water turn pink? Was there ever a morning when I didn't have to dress my wounds and apply ointments all over my body? I don't know. I can't remember. It's been far too long for me to remember those times. Those times without pain, torture, abuse, blood, and Him.

He came to me in a mysterious, sly way. He'd been there the whole time, watching me, like a stalker. He didn't choose to be one, however. He was forced to. He couldn't leave me, no matter how hard he tried. He “wouldn't survive” as he had always said. He stated it was simply an impossible task to leave me alone to myself. He's even lingering here right now, in the back of my mind, with a devious smirk played across His cruel lips.

Those same lips that had kissed me, bitten me, yelled at me, cursed at me, sneered at me, and abused me in ways that I hated yet loved at the same time. Those lips that drove me to the point of insanity and back again, and eventually to a suicidal state. He just stared on while I silently suffered, unable to fulfill my task to freedom.

He put me down for being weak, annoying, and pitiful. He made me repeat His words very clearly, though replacing the “you're” with “I” or “I am” : “I am a weak, selfish thing whom is annoying to its master. I am pitiful, worthless and disgusting. My master is merciful to let me live.” Those very words have been tattooed onto my brain, so I could never forget.

His abusive language rips across my back like an invisible whip, and I shudder whenever he touches my back. He's constantly calling me stupid, worthless, a slut, a piece of garbage that needs to be taken to the dump. My pride is completely gone, the last string tying me to it has severed long ago, and all I can do now is listen to His words and believe them.

And as I lie here on my bed, consisting of a thin blanket and a hard, stone floor, I ponder over our relationship. He is so vindictive to me, and yet I could never leave Him on purpose. It's true that He said He wouldn't survive without me, and now that I think of it, I wouldn't be able to survive without Him, either. He buys food, clothes, pays the bills and generally takes care of me in a freakish, demented way. I don't know why, but the mere thought of leaving Him almost causes me to cry. Perhaps it's because of the fact that without him, I'd basically die. Or perhaps it's because deep down I actually care for him in a way that I shouldn't.

I'm too scared to try and run away, anyway. He'd chase after me, catch me, and drag me back home to dispatch one of the worst beatings of my life onto me. I'm fine with the current bruises and cuts on my body, and I don't really want to add anymore to the canvas that has become a work of art.

I slept on my stomach that night.