He Crawls Like a Worm

Chapter Three

 Ryou's eyes slowly fluttered open as he looked up to the beige ceiling. His head pounded loudly, his whole body aching horribly. He ever so slowly sat up, leaning against the grey wall, taking note of the stickiness that clung to his skin. He held his hand shakily in front of his face, his vision still blurry from the haze of unconsciousness. Rusty sepia was caked against his fingers, making them slightly itchy. He tried to peel some of it away, only managing to get more caught under his nails, seeming to forever stain his nails a cerise brown. He frowned slightly, attempting to ignore the fiery pain resonating from his back, chest, and arms. His clothing was glued against his skin, creating an uncomfortable sensation, strengthening he agony.

He sighed, pulling his knees up to his chest, and burying his face. Though he quickly pulled them away, his eyes widening at the feeling of sticky crimson warming his fingers when he touched his forehead.

He gazed down at the fresh blood on his fingers, wrinkling his nose slightly as he wiped the blood off onto his pants. He sighed softly, longing things to be different. Although tears bubbled up in his eyes, he refused to let them fall. He had promised himself long ago that he would never cry again. Besides- he frowned slightly- Bakura claimed that crying made one weak. But then again, Bakura also claimed all human emotions and morals were weaknesses.

Ryou didn't see how he could possibly believe that. Everyone had emotions, and no matter how hard they may try to suppress them, or deny the fact they are present, they will always exist. Ryou knew that Bakura lied when he said he didn't feel emotions other than anger and hatred; no one could be that empty inside. Even the coldest of people could be happy. Not even Bakura, no matter how malevolent he was, couldn't feel positive.

Ryou sighed. He knew that he couldn't just sit there, wallowing in self pity. Besides, he was sure that soon Bakura would start taunting him if he didn't. He pressed his left hand flat against the wall for support as he shakily tried to stand up. A wave of dizziness swarmed over him as he rose to his feet, standing upright. His vision was blurred over once more, and he wobbled on his feet for a few seconds before collapsing onto his knees. As his vision momentarily faded to black, he could hear the cruel laughter of the spirit bellowing through his soul room. It was a cold sinister laugh, a laugh that could drive one's sanity off the edge with its deranged undertone. The laugh was laced with a bittersweet poison, one that could crush the will to go on of someone who wasn't used to it's maniacal tune.

By now, after ten long and often brutal years of living with the spirit, he had learned to just ignore it and not let it get to him. If he had let it get to him, he would have given up even bothering to try to go on long ago.

Just as he ignored the spirit's laughter at his anguish, he also learned to ignore all of the spirit's sinister words. No matter how hard the spirit tried to make him give in to the corruption, he refused to simply fall and surrender. He refused to break.

Ryou stood up again, gritting his teeth slightly as he took a small step forward, trying not to fall. He continued to take a few small steps, trying to ignore the waves of pain assaulting his beaten body. He ever so slowly made his way over to the stairs, leaning against the wall for support. His hands left bloody hand-prints on the wall from the blood pouring down his arms.

Although it took nearly a half hour, Ryou had finally just reached the top of the stairs. He thanked God that the stairs and hallway were hardwood floors. As he walked, blood had dripped from his wounds, creating small puddles on the floor. Bloodstains were a real pain to get out of carpet. .

Managing to remain standing without the wall for support, he walked down the hall to the bathroom. Once there he habitually locked the door behind him. He avoided glancing into the mirror as he turned on the shower, bit wanting to see himself like this. As he waited for the water to warm, he painfully peeled his shirt away from his skin, grimacing as he felt the sharp pain of a wound being reopened, fresh crimson once again pouring down his chest. He pulled the shirt over his head, frowning slightly as he threw into into the trash bin. Courtesy of Bakura, his favorite shirt had been ruined.

"It isn't ruined" Bakura shot back hearing Ryou's thoughts. Ryou could feel Bakura grinning in his soul room as he continued, "I simply made it more appealing."

"Appealing to who?" Ryou whispered, slightly angered at Bakura for saying such a thing.

"Why, me of course," Bakura chuckled lowly, sensing Ryou's slight anger.

Ryou sighed, furrowing his eyebrows, though he didn't bother to reply, ignoring the spirit as he finished undressing.

He stepped into the shower, wincing slightly as the warm water cascaded down his body, stinging the wounds. He closed his eyes, releasing a soft sigh as he squirted some shampoo onto his fingers, beginning to lather it into his hair. Once finished, Ryou stepped back under the water, allowing it to rinse the shampoo from his hair.

Soon he grabbed the bar of soap and began to scrub off the layers of blood caked against his body. He set down the soap and stepped back into the water, letting its warm flow cleanse his wounds.

Before long, he turned off the water, carefully stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel. He dried off, wrapping the towel around his waist, then squeezed the water from his hair.

Finally, he looked up from the ground, meeting the gaze of his reflection in the mirror. His eyes looked empty, revealing a soul of nothingness within their dead stare.

He frowned as his eyes were drawn to a slash running across his left cheek. He lifted his hand, running his fingers over it, furrowing his eyebrows slightly as he didn't feel any pain from it. He hadn't felt it earlier either, which was rather strange considering it looked fairly deep. Had he not stole a glance into the mirror, he most likely would have not noticed. He sighed, shrugging it off, though wondering how he would manage to cover it up for school.

His gaze abandoned the cut, his attention caught by the crisscrossing scratches on his chest. Some were deeper than others, but they seemed to have a pattern of some sort. Along with that, old nearly healed wounds had been purposely reopened by Bakura.

He still didn't understand why Bakura did this, he didn't understand how a person could be so cruel. Then again, one could hardly consider Bakura human. He had about the same amount of mortality as a rabid animal.

He opened the cabinet above the toilet, taking out a roll of bandages. He began to wrap them around his chest and arms, tearing it, then tucking the ends in. He didn't bother to bandage his forehead or cheek, simply putting away the bandages.

With the towel still wrapped around himself, he unlocked the door, making his way out of the bathroom. Soon he reached his bedroom, shutting the door behind him as he walked over to his dresser. He opened the top drawer, and pulled out a loose-fitting T-shirt and pajama pants, then opening the middle drawer and pulling out boxers, slipping them on. He stepped into his pants, pulling them up, and then painstakingly pulling on his shirt.

He sighed, and walked over to his bed, sitting down to face the window. He glanced out of it, watching the raindrops cascade down the glass. He soon became lost in thought, his mind having drifted off in contemplation of life. He continued to stare out the window for nearly an hour, even as the rain ceased to fall.

Eventually, Ryou was broken out of his thoughts as he felt a slightly weight touch his shoulder. He furrowed his eyebrows slightly as his turned his head slightly, seeing the ghostly hand rest on his shoulder. He gasped slightly as he completly turned, his brown orbs widening as they met sharp crimson ones.

"Hello Yadonushi..." 

(Sorry that it took so long. I made it slightly longer than normal to make up for the wait