White Shadows

Fair warning, this one’s a little strange, and you have to
think fast to keep up. First and last
parts are Ryou’s POV.

White Shadows 4 – Tears of Blood

I don’t
want to do this to him, do I? Why do I
hurt him so much?

style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>I want him to say he’s sorry.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Sorry for hurting me.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Sorry for killing me.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> I want…

But I can’t
make him, can I? Nothing…no, I can make
him. He’s my other half, and I love
him. I’ll always take care of him and
one day he’ll love me in return. I know
he will.

class=GramE>Because…he’s my other me.
He can’t hate me. He can’t – if
he hates me…do I hate me?

I
hate him.

Yes...no…He’s
crying again, tears of blood. Who did
this to him? Me?

No…I love
him. I love him…I just wanted him to say
‘I’m sorry’. Is that so much to
ask? He loves me – he just doesn’t know
it.

style='mso-tab-count:1'> The kids at school always call me by
his name – which is my name too, but that’s beside the point.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> They laugh and wave and call “Hey, Bakura…class=GramE>” if only they knew
who I really was. If only I could show
them…

style='mso-tab-count:1'> I walk into the bathroom, placing
Ryou’s backpack on the counter and leaning over the sink to wash my hands.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> I scrub at the too-pale skin roughly, the
sensation invigorating. Then I splash
water on my face, hoping to wake myself up.
School is such a bore.

style='mso-tab-count:1'> I look in the mirror, white bangs
dripping with water, and see his
face. Wide blue eyes and gentle features
stare back at me from the silvered glass.
I glare at the reflection, willing my own face to appear – wilder
bat-winged hair, narrow, darker blue eyes…but nothing happens.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> I’m staring at his face – staring at my face.

style='mso-tab-count:1'> I look just like style='mso-bidi-font-weight:normal'>him.

The wail of
terror is still hanging in the air as I scramble out of nightmare, shuddering
with reaction. I slide out of bed and go
to the mirror – my reflection stares back at me with wild hair and dark blue
eyes. But still – is that a touch of
gentleness in the set of the mouth, a taint of softness in the eyes?style='mso-spacerun:yes'> No…I can’t be broken.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Not by him.

style='mso-tab-count:1'> :Tell
me you love me…: The thought drifts from
Ryou’s soul room. I shiver – but he’s
still sleeping, still dreaming. For a
moment I’m free.

The knife
is in my hand – I’m not sure how it got there, but it’s in my grasp, the handle
hard and solid and comforting. I raise
it to my hair – it should be shorter, so I chop off those long silvery locks
until they just brush my shoulders.

Better.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> But still not enough.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> I raise a finger to my right class=GramE>eye, trace a memory over the lid and down the cheek.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> I used to have a scar… right there… I
remember that night…

--Flashback –

class=SpellE>Bakhura slipped the tiny sliver of bone into his wrist
shackles, working the fragile object through the copper bonds.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> The lock was simple enough – he had it
memorized after so many months of close association.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Finally, the lock clicked open, falling to
the straw-covered ground with a muffled thunk.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> The boy – though no longer truly a boy, he
had not been since his ninth year – rose, tying the cloth of his smock closer about
him. He would free himself of this place
– but first he had a stop to make. He
undid the lock attaching the chain to the wall and wrapped the cool metal links
carefully around his hand.

The master’s
house was not far away; after six month of ‘training’, he knew the way well.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Like a ghost he slipped through the night.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> His master’s room was at the back, but likely
in this weather he would be sleeping on the roof, to take advantage of the cool
night air.

class=SpellE>Bakhura smiled at the ladder leading to said roof, one hand
fondling the wood before he slid up, bare feet making less noise than the wind.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> As he expected, his master lay there on a
straw pallet, nakedness exposed to the stars of Nut.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> The boy slipped across the roof to the man, class=GramE>unwrapping the heavy chain as he went.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> The clanking of the copper links sounded
overly loud in the night air; the slave master woke with a start.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Bakhura stopped as
the man’s eyes opened, uncertain now. He
had thought to strangle the man in his sleep – sudden fear raced through him,
paralyzing his limbs.

“Boy…class=SpellE>Bakhura…what are you doing here?”style='mso-spacerun:yes'> A smirk crossed the man’s lips.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> “You want to play now?style='mso-spacerun:yes'> I must have trained you better than I
thought…”

The boy
snarled, fear banished behind blinding rage.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> He swung the chain, the copper weight
unwieldy. Bakhura
stumbled as his master ducked the clumsy swing, over balanced.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> The man caught the front of his smock before
he could react, throwing him on the pallet and pinning him there.

“I think
it’s time you were given a slave-mark, boy.”
The master produced a knife from under the pallet and brought it down; blinding
red pain laced through Bakhura’s face; agony exploded
in his right eye. He screamed, but there
was no one to hear save the man who laughed wickedly at his cries.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> A second line cut across his cheek, and a
third – warm blood ran down the side of his face like tears.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> He screamed again, a primal sound of fear and
hate…and the shadows moved.

class=GramE>:You want him dead…yes?:

Set…the
pain must be making him hallucinate. Now
he was hearing voices. His diaphragm knotted with agony.

class=GramE>:Trade, child of the dead…know the bargain; I will give you
strength, and revenge and you will give me…power, freedom.:

He felt the
master’s hands ripping at his clothes and the rage built to overflowing.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Surely he was mad…but it didn’t matter. class=GramE>:Yes!:

:The
bargain is made.: Dark power flowed through him…Bakhura
screamed again, this time with fierce joy as he felt a tug on his soul, felt style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>something forming above him, a style='mso-bidi-font-style:normal'>something that ripped his master off of
him and threw him into the roof with enough force to crack the mud-brick.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> He climbed to his feet, still naked and no
longer caring, as a creature spawned from the shadows loomed over him.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> He felt no fear – this was the creature of
his bargain, the creature that would give him revenge. He stalked over to his
master; his hate gave him strength he never knew he possessed, and almost
lovingly he wrapped the chain around the man’s neck, pulling it taut.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> He watched as the man’s face turned blue, as
his tongue protruded and his limbs twitched in need for air.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> He watched…and smiled.

-style='font:7.0pt "Times New Roman"'>        
end flashback –

I’m still staring at the reflection
when I come back to myself. class=GramE>Staring at the picture of Ryou in the mirror, the picture of his
face. My face.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> I raise the knife again.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>

My face.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> The pain as the blade slides through the
flesh is exquisite – I savour it as I do the pain I
cause in others. This is my strength,
the price I will pay to be free of this curse.
Blood slides down my cheek, dripping off my chin in a solid
rivulet. The blade tastes me again –
across the first cut, over my cheekbone.
It burns like fire, like ice. I
shiver in something resembling ecstasy.

:class=SpellE>Kura-chan!:style='mso-spacerun:yes'> He’s awake now, but it’s too late.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> The third slash is in place, parallel to the
second. Sign of my oath; my binding and
my freedom. I gave my soul to the
darkness – until Diabound was destroyed, and class=SpellE>Zork Necrophisisu was defeated,
and the Pharaoh returned, triumphant. I look in the mirror, finally seeing my
own face staring back at me…and the bitter tears of longing that mingle with
the blood on my cheek.

class=GramE>Kura-chan…why…what…you hurt
yourself again, Kura-chan, and you don’t want me to
help. Why?style='mso-spacerun:yes'> I don’t understand.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> I just want to help.

Don’t you understand?style='mso-spacerun:yes'> I love you…please, love me too!style='mso-spacerun:yes'> I pull him into his soul-room, joining him in
there moments later. He’s up against the
wall again, surrounded by the remnants of his life this time.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> But there is something new
here – spirits of darkness, of the dead.
They don’t come near me, but I can sense them.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>

“Why, Kura-chan?style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Why? I
don’t want to do this to you…please, say it.
Say you’re sorry…please…”

“Rot in Hell, Ryou.”style='mso-spacerun:yes'> I wince at the words, at the tone.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Always so harsh – I just want to help him.

…punish him…

I lash out with a hand, a whip of
darkness cutting at his flesh. But the
spirits block the blow.

Take away his pain.

…break him…

He’s laughing at me now, a wild,
wicked sound. “You can’t do it anymore,
Ryou! I WILL be free!

Love him.