Fragile As Glass
Sakura looked out her window. It was dark, save for the gold-tinted moon glowing against the blackness. Its light was captured by the little water droplets on the other side of the glass pain. The rain was gently dropping outside, collecting in puddles after its long journey from the sky.
A cloud of fog was expanding and contracting with her steady breathes. She drew a broken heart with her index finger in the canvas the fog provided. She wrote Sasuke's name above it and took a step back to view her work.
A fire coursed threw her veins and she let out a scream as she smeared the heart and his name. She cursed him and whirled around breathing heavily. A cup of Luke warm tea sat on the counter reflecting the light given off by a flickering candle. With a wave of her hand she knocked it off the counter, tea and glass sprinkled the white carpet, staining it tan. Her feet moved quickly to the cabinet where she found cups, mugs and glasses. One by one she threw them with all her strength to the ground where they were scattered into but small remnants of what they once were.
She'd had it. Haruno Sakura wasted most of her life thus far loving and caring for one boy, one boy who was too caught up in a hopeless escapade for revenge to notice her. She'd bled for him, cried for him, fought for him. In the end, he'd hurt her. She confessed her undying love for him; he confessed his need to be alone. He'd left her outside on a cold, hard bench, like a piece of trash.
Her feet once again moved involuntarily, she ignored the red streaks she was adding to the already ruined carpet. Glass clinked together, shattered. Like the glass on her floor, she'd once been a raw material. Like the glass under her torn feet, she'd melted for Sasuke. Like the glass that dug into her skin, she'd molded to be what he wanted, and like the glass that littered the floor, she'd cooled, cooled until her heart was so fragile, it could be shattered by the wave of a hand.
The wave of his hand had shattered her. The pieces of her heart were being picked up once again, and melted to a boiling point. The pieces were molding into a deep hatred. Whatever force was doing this, forgot to pick up the pieces that allowed her to love. She couldn't love anymore.
Haruno Sakura was hardening again, into a different kind of glass. A stronger, smoother king of glass, she was becoming a mirror. A mirror that would reflect the image of what Sasuke had become. A mirror that would force him to see himself for what he was. A mirror that would show him, show him, what he'd done.
She was no longer brittle No longer, fragile as glass.
