Please Let Me Be, a yu-gi-oh fanfic

Please let me be

This is the importance of blood in a body. It functions as the transport medium for substances from one part of the body to another. It also protects the body against disease causing organisms by creating antibodies.

Ryou Bakura closed his chocolate brown eyes, and flung his head back, breathing in short – and almost desperate – spasms. Droplets of sweat were forming a layer on his forehead, and on the bridge of his nose.

Undeniably sanguine blood

How inviting it is, to envision the so-called "river of life" flowing for you to see, for your eyes only

In his hand was a small dagger, one that his dark owned. Bakura wouldn't punish him for using his things without permission.

Not this time.

He wouldn't have the chance.

The silver haired teen knew that this time, he won't let the tomb robber take advantage of him, again. Not anymore.

How inexplicably alluring it is to perceive that small, seemingly harmless blade collide on your naked flesh

Surface upon surface

Contact

Rupture

In humans and other living creatures, oxygenated blood is a bright red in its color. This is due to oxygenated iron in the red blood cells, as well as the red pigment called haemogoblin in the blood. Deoxygenated blood has a darker shade of red.

A fresh, long, but thin gash all the way from his elbow to his wrist soon became acquainted with the one made previous to it. And the one previous to that.

For a split second, all he could see was a long line where the tip of the blade passed through. Then, droplets of scarlet started to come out along the edges of that line, accumulating and dripping down the surface of his skin.

His hair, colour as pure as snow, was as unkempt as possible, beads of crimson splattered upon it, thick and rich, like paint.

Eventually, the growing pool of crimson made its way to the ground, still dribbling, slowly but surely.

It's just going to be there

A scar will develop, but you don't really care

The sanguine liquid contrasted greatly with the albino's snowy white flesh. Although the sight was exceedingly gory and appalling, one could not help but also be fascinated by the strange and unexplainable attractiveness of it.

Ryou sure was.

Blood exposed to the air will soon clot. This causes the sealing of the wound, preventing excess loss of blood and stopping foreign particles from entering the bloodstream.

Then

It stopped trickling down

You wonder why

Perhaps it sealed itself

Rivulets of the viscous, vermillion substance ceased flowing. To this, Ryou rolled his eyes uncharacteristically, more of in exasperation than anything, the sheen of sweat increasing on his forehead.

'Not now', he thought. 'Let me finish this'.

The small but sharp razor knife, momentarily discarded during his spasms, was on the ground, moonlight reflecting the ruby red blood that its blade was smothered with.

You never really cared

Plus, you know how to rectify that

That's when you repeat the process

Slice

And again…And again

The clang of metal thrown vehemently on the ground

Uneven, raspy breaths

A pale appendage trembling involuntarily

Its counterpart smeared completely with bloody red

Almost inaudible splats of fluid upon a surface

Determined pair of chocolate orbs, betraying tears forming on its edges

Numbing pain, paralyzing lethargy

'Do you want to go through with this?' A voice in the back of his head murmured.

The artery is situated below the vein, so in order to rupture the artery, one must continue having a wound open for an extended period of time while the blood from the veins is gushing out. This could be accomplished by relentlessly cutting the same area on flesh. Another alternative is to slash the same area of flesh with increasing intensity.

Otherwise, the veins have a tendency to seal up quickly, thus preventing the further loss of blood.

Until you're satisfied

You know you never will be, though

Human nature can never be satiated, really

Yugi would have hyperventilated upon seeing Ryou in this state, he was sure. Tea and Mai would have screamed. Joey and Tristan might have run off to get some other people for help.

Well, that is what they would have done, if they were the least bit concerned.

At the present moment, the people he mentioned were out there having a good time. Heck, it was a Friday night, of course they were. They were surely having so much fun, flirting and hanging around – like normal teenagers.

They wouldn't have even noticed that Ryou wasn't around.

They never did.

Your eyes widen momentarily at the grisly mess you made

Perfectly white shirt – splattered with drops of scarlet

Mother would not appreciate the muddle, I'm sure

Ryou had no mother to account to…His own was resting in peace, six feet under ground, in some rotting, parched soil. He never really forgot that car accident that took her and his younger sister away that fated, stormy night.

He made a commitment to visit both of them every month since the day they passed, but then promises, like everything in this world, do fade away, in the passage of time.

Much like the responsibility his only parent had over him.

His father, though physically alive, was dead in Ryou's eyes.

The man was barely around to acknowledge Ryou's hard earned As, much less notice his son's masochistic tendencies. At the moment, he was probably having the time of his life somewhere in Egypt with some whore, shagging like no tomorrow.

You'd never know.

And yet

You don't care, you know you don't

You never did

A freezing chill made Ryou shiver to the bone. That was strange. It was the peak of summer. Even at night, it was usually sweltering hot that anyone could die of dehydration in the suffocating heat without the aid of an electric fan or air conditioner.

Ryou owned none of that. The aforementioned appliances either broke down due to age or misuse. Usually the latter.

The pale skinned teen's vision soon became blurry, befuddled, and bewildering. Streaks and spirals of purplish gray distorted his vision.

His whole body felt increasingly heavy, even in his convenient seat on his bed. Limbs, usually as though feathery light, felt like a ton.

He felt like he wanted to throw up

This is what one should feel after loosing a considerable amount of blood: the victim would experience chills and extreme cold all over their body. He or she would soon feel lethargic and groggy. Lightheadedness and sleepiness could also result from this.

Pathetic

That was what Bakura usually called him. Either that, or sissy, no-brainer, coward, girly, moron…Any possible insult towards one's self esteem, the tomb robber has told Ryou at least twice in his whole lifetime.

Bakura and Malik had gone club-hopping once more. They usually would have stayed in either one of their houses and drink until they dropped, but they were in the mood to do something different. This was actually good for the shy, fair skinned teen, as he would not have to clean up after the two.

Their absence was also another reason why Ryou was so determined to do it. Cut himself, to be specific. If he was to be caught halfway through, he'd be in deep shit. His dark and the sandy haired Egyptian would punish him like no tomorrow, and the psychiatric ward would have another unwelcome and unwilling addition to their orgy of queers.

No one would ever leave him out of their line of sight again.

The very thought of it gave Ryou the shivers.

That's what you were inside anyway – tainted

Unclean

Solitude was the most important thing to Ryou. Without it, he would be insane at the present time, if he wasn't already.

Standing in crowds was never his thing. He usually felt out of place in group outings. One-to-one conversations were not so different; the person who he "conversed" with usually gave long, winding speeches, and would snap when Ryou would make the smallest comment, saying, "Don't disturb me, moron, I'm not done yet" with a menacing glare.

The albino teen just learned to shut up. He always had to. No one was there to listen.

Everyone out there ultimately cared for their own self, and themselves only.

So you just do it once more

No one told you that it could be

So addictive

Like drugs. But better. Loads better.

Torrents of vermillion liquid made contact with their predecessors on the tiled floor. Harried breaths. Hair tangled beyond recognition.

Ryou knelt down on the ground. He couldn't even muster up the ability to stand up. His unwounded arm was practically clinging to the adjacent wall to keep him upright.

The beads of sweat on his forehead accumulated, that they began dropping down through his delicate features. He shivered involuntarily as an immense blanket of coldness enveloped him, like how one should feel after a bucket of ice cold water has been thrown above their heads.

This is the result of successful wrist-slashing: One will feel his heartbeat palpitate all throughout his body, as well as a cold eerie feeling of pulsation in one's arms and legs, as the hours pass and his blood pressure drops off.

No one ever told you to really do it in the first place

A manic grin begins to form on your formerly delicate features

A waste of time. This is what their first reaction would be, no questions asked. No doubt about it. It would be ever so tedious, to fill in the papers, to contact some cemetery, to get him buried.

Heck, knowing Bakura, he'll probably throw his corpse into some ditch. If he was lucky, flies would come to pay heed to his death before consuming his rotting flesh.

When these thoughts passed through Ryou's head, tears began to form uncontrollably in the edges of his contorted brown eyes. This was the truth he believed in, the reality of everything. He was foolish to have believed that someone actually cared.

Salty colourless liquid merged with dried crimson.

A numb, bloodshot stare lingers on your eyes

Eyes that were lusting to have a glimpse of more

More of it oozing out

Betrayal

How painful it was

How someone could make fun of you, and perceive your very existence as a toy, a plaything. How people would say that they were worried, but then just laugh it all off behind his back.

People had a natural tendency to do that with him.

He just was not worth being respected, that's all.

Drying up on the surface of your skin

Dark crimson

Exsanguination is a relatively uncommon and dramatic cause of death in humans. It might be more precise to say that exsanguination is a mode of death rather than a cause, since the fact of exsanguination will have some underlying cause.

All form of coherent thought was all but extinguished from Ryou's mind. He didn't want to think, didn't want to think of the chance that maybe, just maybe, someone out there would spend ten minutes of their lives consoling him.

Life is short. Who would be stupid enough to fling their lives away listening to a hopeless moron?

Then, he realized

He needed to finish the job fast. He needed to be efficient. To do it successfully. These three aspects that no one ever believed he could achieve.

He was going to prove them wrong, even if it was the last thing he did.

Well, it was the last thing he was going to do anyway, better make it count.

You soon relish every single fling of the shard of metal

Where most find pain, you find pleasure

Guilty pleasure, but pleasure still

Even from his recline against the white wall tainted with splatters of scarlet, he continued to slash his wrist. Occasionally a splotch would mar his cheek, blot his hair.

If anyone were to see him at to see him in his current state, they would definitely think he was crazy. Insane. He wouldn't blame them if they did. He thought so too.

But at that point in time, even if he wanted to stop, he couldn't. His arm just moved ceaselessly, as though with a mind of its own. And he could not stop himself from grinning either.

Each slash done with renewed intensity

With craving desire

With sin

Plain and simple

Without notice, Ryou suddenly saw his images of his sister running about, pulling his bleeding arm, persuading him to play with her. It was as though she did not notice his bloodied state. It was as though it was like the good old times.

Her captivating smile and cheerful laughter was the same as how he remembered her. Her hair and skin similar to his, except that hers was well kept. A genuine smile replaced the deranged smirk he had moments earlier.

With much effort, he raised his arm to link with hers.

She giggled, and said with her soft, ethereal voice, "I'm so glad to see you again, big brother."

The symbolic experiences of one in "Near Death Experience" are unlike any true hallucination. The perceived happenings are obviously self-contradictory, even insane, often involving great confusion, and are frequently followed by the mental or even bodily deterioration of the afflicted individual.

The visions of one in the brink of death are coherent and the subject is in a state of high awareness, as evidenced by his or her testimony afterward. They are neither chaotic nor disintegrative.

You don't really care

You never once did

Society never really gave suicidal attempts a damn. This is a fact.

Sure, there were the Samaritans around to console and try to make the victim feel better, to make him stop being suicidal. Of course, there would be therapists waiting outside the E.R. door. Yet one wonders, is this all sincere?

Most people would inwardly rejoice at seeing another fall to his doom, while externally offering their condolences. Celebrate when they learn that they are indeed a stronger individual than their late peers. Gossip relentlessly about how and why that person chose to end his journey on Earth. Simply be less worried, now that there's less competition to handle.

Then, there's always the nonchalant sort. The ones that don't care if you live or die. The ones that only mind their own business. The ones that only offer a single sympathizing smile and heartfelt glance that plainly said, 'I know how it feels.' They don't act though. They know that it would be completely futile, if not increase another's resolve to commit the sacrilegious act.

Suddenly

There's no more

The river's been depleted

Dried up

A single breath escaped his lips. A fulfilled sigh. Ryou leaned back against the wall, and pulled his head back.

"Thank you," he whispered to nothing in particular, "for helping me realize my sole wish."

He closed his eyes, arm dropping lifelessly to his side.

At last, he was consumed by silence, in a world he always longed to be in.

A place where no one would take advantage of him any more.

And you're satisfied, finally

That frenzied grin still etched on your bloody lips.

End

A/N: The poem in italics is written by no other but ME. :P The poem is called "Carmine Droplets". Actually I wrote it separately when I was a bit depressed over the angst in my life. I'm better now, by the way. :) So I thought that, hey, I won't make this lovely poem go to waste, so I'm using it alternately with the fic. It's a one-shot btw.

It's finally done. This thing took me weeks to finish. Weeks, I tell you.

So, please remember to REVIEW! It would help me, lots…Even constructive criticism is okay…Any doubts, just put it in the review, and I'll clear it with you in email, which you should leave in the review also.

Last but not least…Disclaimer: Ryou Bakura and the other characters in the anime Yu-Gi-Oh don't belong to me. I just want to write about them. It's not a crime, isn't it? The parts of the fic in bold are snippets taken from my Biology text book and the Online Practical Guide to Suicide, which should seriously not be visited if you wish to contain your sanity.