Dark Light

Disclaimer: Don't own it. All I own is the plot, if you can really call it that...

Warnings: You've probably figured that out by now, huh?

Author: Koneko Shido

A/N: Might be short, because I'm having trouble typing today, for some reason... *confused...*

Dark Light 9

I can't move... He-he just killed all those people, right in front of me, and now he's sitting cross-legged on the grass before me grinning as though it meant nothing to him. I could see so clearly everything he did to them, the look of enjoyment in his eyes as he was killing them... In some, strange way I feel almost flattered, he killed those men for to sto save me. But there's so much blood... it's everywhere. It's dripping from the red-tinged streetlight and pooling in a wide, thick puddle around the pile of bodies on the ground a few feet away, shining slickly in the distorted light. It's like some twisted nightmare, it all happened so fast, yet at the same time in slow motion so that I could watch every detail in sickening clarity.
One of the bodies gives a light shudder and then stills, the one he stabbed through ttomatomach. It took him almost three minutes to die, unlike the rest. Away to the side, over Bakura's shoulder I can see the glistening lumps of gore that make up one man's insides, lying on the floor next to his slit-open body, which is still joined to them by a snake-like length of what I can only assume is his intestines. Seeing that, as well as the gaping wound turned towards me should by all rights make me want to throw up, and I do feel a little nauseous, but at the same time... there's something oddly beautiful about the blood. It's so perfectly red, so alluring. I've never seen so much of it before, I wonder if I were to touch it, would it still be warm? Would their bodies still be warm? I think I must be in shock, or something. People are killed this way in movies, but it can't compare to the feeling of seeing it really happen right before my eyes. It's so different... In films they're just actors, in the back of your mind you always know that it's not real, they'll all get up after the shot is over and laugh about it, go back to being alive because they never really died... The terror in their eyes as they die on the screen isn't real, but what I saw was genuine. They won't be getting up again, they won't ever move or breathe or grow, because their lives have ended. It's so different from on television. The blood is so red, so dark, so thick, so... real. Their wounds are like gaping mouths in their skin and the sounds as their flesh was ripped open were something it's impossible to simulate. The way they're sprawled on the floor is artless, like they were just puppets walking around, and Bakura took that knife of his and with a few quick slashes he cut their strings.
It's so hard to believe there's anything more when you see someone die like that.
He seems to read my mind, because he smirks at me and gestures to their bodies lying in that ever-spreading pool of crimson, asking me if I see their souls flittering off to the afterlife. I shake my head numbly, turning back to look into his eyes, wondering what I will find there. I expect perhaps a glint of insanity or something of the like, but what I find is the complete opposite. I see satisfaction, and clarity. He knew exactly what he was doing; he's as sane as they come. Somehow that only makes him more terrifying. I know he isn't crazy. I know now that a sane person can do these things without regret, and enjoy them. It makes the world seem that much colder, I think.
He begins to speak, and I can't help but listen to his words, that deep, hissing voice of his drawing me in and forcing me to hear him while his eyes bore into mine. He tells me I won't see their souls fly off to heaven or hell because that's all a fairytale and neither place exists. He tells me the world is a cold, lonely place and in the end all we have is darkness. It's all about survival, and there are no happy endings. He smirks once again and says that people work hard, live pitiful, pathetic existences, then they die and the worms eat their flesh. I know he's right. That blood leaking from their bodies is their souls, and it's slowly seeping into the ground. Within a few days the rain will have washed it all away, and what will they have then? He see see in my eyes what I am thinking, and he crawls forward like a cat, his eyes pinning me to the spot. And then he whispers quietly, so that I can barely hear him. He asks me a simple little question. Why don't I break the mould? Before I can reply, or even think about what his words mean, he's kissing me and pushing me down onto the grass, his lips moving against mine and his tongue buried in my mouth, forcing compliance from me. And... I let him. Even though his hands are covered in thick, red blood and those same hands have just murdered five people right in front of me, I allow him to kiss me. Could I even fight him if I wanted to?
He shifts a little and laps up a few perfect drops of blood I didn't even realize I had on my cheek, and then he looks down at me with those piercing eyes and licks his lips, enjoying the confusion he sees in me. I don't understand why I let him kiss me. I don't understand why I'm still here, lying beneath him in the park next to all the people he's just killed, when I should be just another victim. Why haven't I tried to run away? Why do I feel safe here beneath him, even though that's certainly the last thing I should feely cay can't I bring myself to push him off, or cry out for help? All those things he said to me... I should have argued, told him he was wrong, that what he does is evil. But evil sounds like such a strange word to me now, it doesn't seem to mean anything.
Suddenly he thrusts something into my hand and I look down in confusion to see myself holding the handle of the knife, still dripping with blood. I wonder what he wants me to do with it when he grins at me wickedly and says that I should find out for myself how it feels to have the power to end a life like it means nothing. He tells me I should forget everything that has been drilled into me by society and go with what my instincts tell me to do. Then, giving me one last kiss, he vanishes. I look down at the knife and wonder what on earth he meant, when a sharp gasp and the sound of barking makes me jerk my head up. To my horror a middle-aged man is standing near the bodies, holding the leash of a small dog in one clenched fist, looking at me with terror in his eyes. I realize what this must look like to him. There fie five bodies crumpled on the ground in the darkness, and I'm sitting here sprayed with blood, holding the knife obviously used to kill them. What am I supposed to do? This man thinks I killed these people, and in a moment he's going to come to his senses, get over his initial shock and go call the police. I can't go to jail for this, but who's going to believe the truth if I tell it to them? What do I do?!

TBC

Mwahah, cliffhanger. Don't you just love them? So what is Ryou going to do? Think the guy'll believe he didn't do it? Well, review like the nice people I'm sure you are, and I'll get to work on the next bit. ^_^