At an internal tug, Anthony's shoulders shifted back; he trained his focus on the spot on the arm of the chair at which Bakura tapped. " -- I don't think that there is," he managed to say, cadenced and thick, shaking his head. "...I probably have to find a way to tell them that - I - can't go back... sometime."

A snag and quiver that he didn't even mind, through the swoop in his head. He wanted to go back. Nearly every force in him pulled him back and was pulled, and called, and demanded to by all thought and feeling that they knew very well he knew he consciously defied.

"I'm turning into a zombie." His eyes moved back to Bakura's face on that - it was the most frankly he'd expressed it, as well, and he did not want the point of it to go to waste; to not force his mother and father to know was surely the lesser of two, both quite painful, evils.