Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Fear ❯ Chapter 5

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Marik smirked at Bakura, who was pinning him to the ground, his cold, lust-filled eyes sweeping over Ryou, who was clutching the half-dead Malik to him protectively. The irate tomb robber again smacked the abusive yami hard on the face. “How dare you do what you have done to Malik? How dare you lie there and gloat about it?” The white haired thief king snarled. “Oh, I dare…” Marik breathed, suddenly freeing his hand and whipping it round. Bakura was slammed into the wall by the power of the Millennium Rod, quite unable to move, his own Ring flying away from him. Next to Ryou, Malik's eyes began to mist over and he shuddered before laying limply in the hikari's arms. Ryou was on his own, and Marik was advancing on him hungrily. “Ryou!” Bakura called desperately, struggling in vain against the ancient and fearsome energy that was pinning him down. Marik leered at the tomb robber and suddenly lunged at Ryou, pinning the milder boy up against the wall. Ryou cried out quietly as his head was flung backwards in to the unmoving brick. The wild-haired yami's hand began undoing Ryou's jeans with deceptive gentleness, while the other mercilessly gripped the whimpering hikari's face. Marik thrust his tongue roughly in to poor Ryou's mouth, the British teenager naturally too docile to fight back. Then, suddenly, Ryou's jeans were tugged away by the heartless Egyptian towering over him, and the helpless boy screamed as two cold fingers tore into him from behind, scissoring sharply, ripping the muscle apart. Oh, Ra, the pain! Did Malik have to put up with this all the time? Ryou felt as though he was being split apart, wrenched in half… a third finger was added and Marik parted them again, grinning sadistically against Ryou's lips as the trapped teen moaned and screamed, writhing in agony. Bakura could do nothing but watch, desperately trying to reach his lighter half - he hated seeing his other side beaten like this, crying out for help that his yami could not give… “You enjoying this, tomb robber?” Marik asked tauntingly in his slow, deliberate voice. “You want a go after me?” “You! You sick bastard! You sick, twisted bastard!” Bakura screeched, his rage increased by his inability to help his loved one. Malik's limp body lay discarded and unnoticed at Marik's feet, and the yami suddenly kicked it viciously towards Bakura, who fell silent at the sight of the tanned boy's bloodstained face, eyes closed in a parody of death. Marik sneered a perverse grin at Bakura and wriggled his fingers inside Ryou, who howled as they brushed his newly torn flesh. The Briton's blood was stained up Marik's hand and forearm, and the Egyptian nibbled Ryou harshly on the ear. “Isn't he such a wonderfully obedient toy?” The wild-haired one asked tauntingly. “He screams so earnestly. Has he been taking lessons from Malik?” Bakura growled in his throat slightly, but a knowledge that he could do nothing but make Ryou's situation worse caused him to look down at Malik - - who winked. The beaten, bloodied boy's eyes were partially open, and he was grimacing in pain with every slight movement, but he had clearly regained consciousness and the slits of his eyes that Bakura could see were burning with a dogged determination. The milder Egyptian's agonised eyes closed again and his face tightened in either strain or concentration, or even a mix of both. The ancient golden aura of energy trapping Bakura lightened unexpectedly and the thief king fell to the floor, shuffling silently to the near-comatose Malik, who used his final energy to whisper hoarsely into the white-haired yami's ear: “Help… Ryou…” Bakura nodded sadly to Malik and then leapt on Marik, who was preoccupied with causing Ryou to scream heartrendingly. A dreadful shriek of rage was torn from the sadist's throat as Bakura cannonballed into his chest, knocking him sideways. Ryou slid down the wall, pulling the remains of his jeans over himself to preserve any dignity he had left, tears staining his cheeks, shivering spasmodically. His unseeing eyes drifted over the limp bleeding bundle that was Malik, to the yelling, cursing whirl of fists that engulfed Marik and Bakura. Bakura slammed Marik's head down on the floor, straddling the taller yami's chest, hitting his face repeatedly. The tomb robber grabbed a fistful of Marik's black skin-tight shirt and pulled the other man's face up to his. “Listen.” He hissed dangerously. “I'm going to leave now, and I'm taking Malik and Ryou with me. You aren't going to come anywhere near us and you're never going to hurt either of them again!” With one final slam back of his head back on to the floor, Marik lost consciousness. Bakura left the limp form of the abusive yami where he lay, hurrying over to his own hikari, kneeling by his side, letting Ryou sob into his shoulder. “Are you all right, tenshi?” He asked nervously in his husky voice. “N-no... it hurts… it hurts so bad… h-how can Malik put up with this?” Ryou wept uncontrollably. Bakura brushed his hikari's pale hair from his face as he helped the milder boy to his feet. “Can you walk?” He asked tentatively. Ryou gulped back his tears and nodded. “I - I think so… s-someone needs to h-help Malik… oh, gods, it hurts!” Ryou gripped Bakura's shoulder, burying his head in the warmth, trying to chase away the haunting memories of those cold, dead fingers… Bakura supported Ryou over to Malik, who, once again, lay limp and lifeless, the lilac eyes - so full of pain when they were opened - were now closed. The Egyptian looked almost peaceful; the bloodstains on his face being the only factors to jolt Bakura back to the sickening reality. The tomb robber hoisted Malik over his shoulder with one hand, the other holding Ryou to him, and began making his painstakingly slow way back to their own house. --- Somehow Bakura managed to struggle home with his two burdens, helping the shivering Ryou to sit on the sofa in the front room and reverently carrying Malik upstairs, laying him to rest in his bed. For most of the night, he was sitting up with his hikari in the lounge, watching muted television, hugging the more fragile boy to him comfortingly. Poor Ryou had been through a huge shock - Bakura supposed that Malik was probably used to it, from what he had heard from the tanned boy's tortured dreams, but Ryou… he had been new to the entire idea of sex, Bakura and Malik were his first partners, and now… The tomb robber stroked Ryou's pale hair softly, holding the Briton tightly to him in an instinctive attempt to chase away the horrors that would almost certainly haunt him when he dared sleep. “Why, Bakura?” Ryou wept into his yami's chest, speaking for the first time in hours. “Why did he do it? Why does he hurt Malik so much?” Bakura noticed, with a sad inward smile, Ryou's ability, even while in shock, to be virtually selfless. His speech held no hint that Marik had assaulted him at all, it was composed entirely of sympathy and concern for Malik. “I don't know, koi…” He breathed soothingly, letting Ryou bury his face in his shoulder, caressing his cheek gently. “I don't know how his mind works… maybe he thinks it's funny, or maybe he thinks that Malik is something he owns and should be treated so - or maybe he's just a twisted sadistic bastard.” The tomb robber had avoided mentioning that Marik had abused Ryou, just like the introvert boy had done. If Ryou was embarrassed or ashamed - natural reactions in cases like these - then the teenager certainly didn't need to be reminded. And then, at last, Ryou admitted that he had narrowly escaped being raped. “W-Why did he attack me…? What did I do to him? Oh, Bakura, it hurts! Why?” “Always the innocent are the first victims.” A hoarse, tired voice came from the doorway. “So it has been, so it will continue to be.” Malik was standing there and, even as Ryou and Bakura watched, his eyes closed and he swayed before falling forward limply. Bakura, with lightning fast reflexes, managed to catch the Egyptian before he slumped to the ground, holding the other teen up. “Are you all right?” The thief king asked concernedly in his husky voice. “Come and sit with me an Ryou. Ra, Malik, you shouldn't even be walking, the amount of blood you lost!” Malik was lain on the sofa, his head on Ryou's lap - this actually calmed the silver-haired hikari down drastically; his shivering stopped, as did his tears, while he gazed down at Malik's face, the Egyptian's eyes only half open. “What did you mean by that comment?” He asked eventually, his eyes red and his voice raw with crying. Malik smiled weakly. “It is just something Isis said a lot… never really asked what it means…” Ryou sighed, leaning in to Bakura, who had retaken his seat next to his hikari, playing with a lock of Malik's platinum gold hair. “I don't understand.” The tomb robber commented suddenly. “How did I manage to get free of the Sennen Rod?” “I did it…” Malik managed. “When I regained consciousness and saw him hurting Ryou… I used all my energy to intercept his control of the Rod - we're both Ishtars, so we can both use it… I released the energy, and then… blacked out again…” Malik tilted his head into Ryou's grateful hand, which was caressing his cheek. “How can you cope with it?” The Briton questioned quietly. “What he did to me was like being tickled by a feather compared to what he's done to you, yet you can just bear it… how?” “Long practise…” Malik answered sadly. “I cope through long practise at coping… it was…” the Egyptian's look was suddenly one of pain. “it was your first time, wasn't it?” Ryou nodded and Malik sighed heavily. “I am sorry.” It was then that Ryou made what was possibly the bravest statement Bakura had ever heard him make. “Don't be sorry. It was Marik, not you, and it was because I was trying to rescue you, so I don't mind - I'd rather me hurt than you… I don't want to see you hurt anymore…” A tear dripped from Ryou's cheek on to Malik's face, where the shining wetness was already prominent, and Bakura smiled gently, glad that his two tenshis seemed to be pulling through.