Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ I Hate You ❯ I Hate You ( Prologue )

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

This is about one person hating themself, and being very depressed. Add sharp objects and voila! Instant Angst! Have fun and please review!
P.S~ Those stupid lawyers are making me say that I dont own Yugioh or anything affiliated with it. DAMN DAMN DAMN!



Ra, how pathetic can you get? Alone, ignored. Hell, your parents don't even want you.
"A face only a mother could love...Or maybe just a kid even she cant."
They went off to dig in Egypt, leaving you to grow up on your own.
You don't exist to them, do you?
Your birthday and Christmas presents are automated deposits in your bank account. Just another name in the accounts book.
Damn, is that a tear? Gods, what a weakling.

Bakura would smash you if he saw you like this. Standing here, staring at yourself. Watching the tears roll down you face.

That's right, cry. That's all you ever do.

Won't even stick up for yourself. Bullies, Bakura, nothing. You let them walk all over you.

Yeah, see that bruise on the side of your face, you put it there. You did, not your other half.

Sure, he was the one who hit you, but you were the one who let him. Pathetic.

No one could love something so pathetic. So weak.

Isn't that what Bakura tells you every morning.

"Get up weakling. How can those baka's stand to be near you? They must be more fucked in the head than I thought."

Face it. Nobody loves you.
Not even yourself. Never have, never will.
More tears, God! Because there's nothing worth loving in you, is there?
I mean, if there were, people would've loved you a long time ago.
You wouldn't be sitting here, on the floor of your room, staring at a mirror.
You'd be out there, talking, joking, laughing... anything as long as you were with someone who loved you.
Maybe they'd even hold you.
Hold you? Ha! Who would want to hold *you*?
Great, the mirror's cracked. Your knuckles are bleeding. Bakura would be proud.
...Not.
The blood seeps down through your fist, crimson drops.
You can see why he's so intrested in it. The color, the sight, smell... Damn it.
Why? Why aren't you lovable? You know, doing that will only make it bleed more. And it is. And you don't care.
Nobody cares.
*Nobody* cares, do they?
Holding that piece of glass like that is making your hand bleed now.
God, you're such a masochist. A regular glutton for punishment. You just keep coming back for more, don't you?
Because that's the only way you get connected to other people. You may hate it, but you need it.
Because you can't have anything else. Because you can't have anything better.
How else could you stand the endless beatings, the constant darkness.

The quiet, everyone else around you happy, laughing.

But you are stuck on the outside, looking in. On the other side of the glass.
Why? What can you do that will make someone love you? What about just liking you, you'd settle for that.
Now you're getting really pathetic.
Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.
*L*. The blood seeps very nicely from the letter on your arm. Go ahead, you baka, put the next letter on.
*O*. Ra, that hurts so much, doesn't it?
*V*. And you want it. You want it to hurt. You need it to hurt.
*E*. Is that what you want? You want love?
You can't have it. You'll never have it. Why do you even try? What else could you possibly do?
That's it, strike that stupid word through with a nice long line.
Because it's something you'll never have. It's something no one will ever give you.
Not even yourself.
*H*. The other arm now.
Since you're decorating one arm, you might as well bleed from the other, hmm?
*A*. Why? Because if nobody loves you...
*T*... That must mean they... they hate you.
*E*. They hate you, don't they? That's why they don't love you.
Look at yourself now, through the spiderweb of broken glass. Crying like a baby.
I'm sure people cry when they get cut by glass. But that's not why you're crying, is it? Because the pain isn't where your hands are bleeding.
The pain is where your heart lies bleeding on the floor.
Smashed underfoot by everyone you have ever known.
Your parents, abandoning you...
Your neighbors, ignoring your cries for help...
Your friends, oblivious to the blood and scars...
Your Dark, walking away while you stare helplessly from the floor, broken and bloody.
Look at your arms.
Bleeding.
The words aren't that clear anymore, what with all the blood.
What the hell were you thinking? What the hell were you trying to prove?
What *can* you prove?
Blood's getting on the carpet.
Bakura will have a fit.
But that doesn't matter, does it? Because he can't do anything to you that will hurt any more than you are now.
Maybe reassure you that nobody does love you.
Give you a beating for staining the carpet.
Yes, if you want to kill yourself, do it where you can clean up.
Kill yourself. Do... do you really want to? What will *that* prove?
Your bravery?
Your courage at being able to cut your wrists and end it all?
Or will it be cowardice? You can't take it anymore, can you?
Chicken.
Oh wait, you've already cut your hands. But it doesn't count.
And what will your death do?
Nothing.
Nobody loves you anyway.
You don't love you.
And there isn't anything to love in you. Maybe you don't deserve to be loved.
Maybe you did something horrible in your past life, and you're destined to live this life without ever being loved.
That's it, isn't it?
You don't deserve love. Because if you did, someone would've come. Someone would've loved you by now.
Someone.
Anyone.
But you don't have anything to love in you, and you don't deserve to be loved.
You're not even allowed a hug, you pathetic moron.
Why do you keep on living? For this sliver of hope that maybe one day someone will finally love you?
Get with it, It has been 16 years. 16 long years of hell, lonely hell. Why are you even here?
Oh, yeah.
That whole "reincarnation-of-an-evil-sadist-tomb-robber-who-wants-to-rule-the-world-us ing-my-body-cause-he's-fucking- DEAD!"
You don't have anything to live for, do you?
All your efforts to get someone to love you, to want you, have been worth nothing.
You've wasted your life trying to get something you can never have. Now you know.
What else is left for you then?
Nothing.
Besides, nobody will notice that you're gone. Life will just go on after they bury you.
'Here lies whatshisname. Thank you for coming.'
Maybe another Hikari will come to be Bakura's punching bag.
Maybe the cleaners will bitch about the stains on the carpet.
What are you waiting for? You're not going to hurt anyone but yourself.
And what's another cut? That's right, along the vein, not across it like you see in the movies.
Don't mess this up like how you do everything else.
The glass you're holding is really all red now.
It's too slippery to hold anymore. Dripping... completely coated with blood.
Just like your palm. Ra... it actually does hurt when you open your hand like that.
I really... am going to die, aren't I?
I can tell.
There's too much... too much blood.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Yes... yes, he's okay now. The transfusion seems to be going fine, and his body isn't showing signs of rejection. He just needs to rest."
Was... was that Marik?
"Why-- How-- I don't understand, Marik."
Bakura? Where is this place? Hell?
A tired sigh. "I really don't know. I didn't see this coming either."
... The hospital. You're in the hospital. Damnit! Where did you think this was, Oz?
God, talk about screwing up.
"Do you... do you think it was something I did?"
No, never. It was all you.
They can't help it if there's nothing to love about you. They shouldn't blame themselves.
Oh my God, he's touching you! Is that his hand on your cheek?
Stay still, just stay still, damnit. If they know you've woken up, they'll want to talk to you.
And you know you won't be able to give them the answers.
"Well, it might have something to do with you beating the living shit out of him all the time."
*glares*
"But then again, I wouldn't know. He never showed any signs of depression though. But what he did to himself... Well...Even *I'm* not this fucked."
"What did he do? When I found him in his room... all I saw was how much blood there was."
Oh, so Bakura was the one who found you. In all your pathetically bleeding glory.
Whoopee.
"Oh Ra... well, his arms are wrapped up now, but he'd cut the word 'hate' on one arm. 'Love' was on the other arm, but he'd struck it through with a line like he was canceling it."
Very observant, Doc.
"What...? Why?"
Gee, I thought it was pretty obvious.
"I don't know what made him do this. The cuts are so deep... so deliberate. He's not stupid, he knew what he was doing."
A shaky breath. "I'm pretty sure that the first means he feels a deep hatred towards *someone* or something."
And we all know who that is, don't we?
There was a serious emphisis on the someone. You can almost feel the death glares.
"Fuck off. What about 'love'? With the line?"
Another sigh. "I don't know. Maybe he used to love this something or someone?"
There was a choked sound. It sounded like Bakura.
Going off-course there, Marik.
You never loved you.
Like... ever.
"What should we do?"
"Well... obviously, I think he needs to see a psychologist."
Yes, you're a crazy madman who's gone off the edge. Thank you, Doctor.
"A shrink?"
"No, a doctor who specifically counsels teenagers with depression. I've already talked to one, and they're willing to take this case."
What? Wait, doesn't that mean...
"How soon can we get him there?"
God... so it's true.
They really don't want you.
So eager to get you out of their lives and into a mental hospital where you won't be a nuisance to anyone.
"As soon as possible. I'd like to let him rest for a while more, though."
"Of course. You could use some rest yourself, Marik. He's okay now."
And how would you know, Yami?
"Come on. Come with me for a cup of coffee. He won't be able to hurt himself if he wakes up."
Wow, they have you strapped down. Standard procedure for crazy people who are a danger to the public.
"You're right. Well, coffee sounds nice."
They're gone. Just like that.
Ryou is tied to the bed, he can't hurt anyone, we're going to send him away to a strange place, want some coffee?
It's so quiet here.
What did you expect, flowers? A throng of people worried about how you are?
Face it, Marik is a doctor, and the only reason Bakura is here is because he wants to see him.
That leaves you with nobody.
How did you manage to screw it up, anyway?
A day in the life of Ryou Bakura. God won't even let you out of your misery. He wants you to suffer some more.
Maybe one day the suffering will end on its own.
I can see the headlines 'Quiet student slips on banana peel and dies from head trauma.'
Maybe this was meant to be a screw up.
Maybe one day someone really will love you.
Or maybe you'll find a way to live without it.
Or hey, maybe life will mean more than love one day.
Get real. Your entire existence has been about trying to get someone to love you, subtly or not.
I thought we'd discussed this. Why do you want to set yourself up for more heartbreak? It's useless.
And I guess since you know the answer to this futile quest of yours, there really isn't anything to go on for, is there?
Why should it be 'maybe one day'?
Hell, as soon as they let you up, you're going to do this again.
...Though this time, you're going to do this right.


~*~

Well? Should I do another chapter?