Gaara rolled over with a groan when he heard his alarm go off. He turned the wretched device off, and slowly crawled out of bed. As usual, it was another sleepless night. He only got about three hours of sleep in this week, and he was exhausted. He walked over to his dresser and picked out his clothes for the day. A plain black shirt, tight black skinny jeans, and his only pair of shoes, a faded-out pair of black Converse (1). He winced as he pulled the shirt over his head because it stretched out the bruise on his shoulder that his father gave him last night.

Oh yes, his father did not go easy on him last night.

Realizing he was frozen by his thoughts, Gaara shook his head and continued getting ready for school. Once he was dressed, Gaara slug his beat up black backpack over his shoulder and silently walked downstairs, careful not to wake his hungover father. He did not want a repeat of last night's events.

Gaara silently closed the front door of his home, and started on his mile long walk to school.

...

Gaara sighed as he reached the building to his second hellhole. Konoha High School. He moved to Konoha from Suna this year, and even though he started school here at the beginning of the year, he just couldn't seem to fit in. In fact, the people down right hated him. He thought moving from Suna would give him a clean slate, but he was wrong. Even at his new school he was bullied. Beaten and called names. Not even the teachers liked him. They saw what happened and ignored it.

Gaara jumped when he heard the warning bell go off, and jogged to A hall where his first class was. He made it to his first class, Spanish, just as the tardy bell rang and took his usual seat next to the window.

A girl with pink hair and green eyes walked into the classroom, her eyes desperately trying to find an empty desk. Her eyes widened when she realized the only available seat was next to Gaara.

"UGGGHHH!" She cried loudly, "I have to sit to next to the freak!"

'Yep,' Gaara thought, 'This is gonna be a rough day.'

...

Gaara was leaning against the lockers in B hall quietly reading a book. It was lunch time, and he never ate. He was so engrossed in his book that he didn't notice that a group of students had stopped in front of him and were glaring down at him.

"Well, well. What do we have here? If it isn't our favorite little faggot!" One of the students said, making Gaara snap his head up. He quickly looked back down when he realized it was one of his tormentors, Kiba Inuzuka.

"Hey, you look at us when we're talking to you!" Another one of his bullies, Naruto Uzumaki, said.

"S-Sorry..." Gaara stuttered out, looking back up with sad eyes.

But that didn't satisfy them. Suddenly, he was picked up by the collar and slammed into the blue lockers, making him cry out in pain. "Sorry ain't gonna cut it! A demon like you should be at his feet, begging for mercy! You little-"

"Naruto, Kiba. Let me handle him," the leader of the group, Sasuke Uchiha, ordered. Gaara gulped. Sasuke was the one he feared most because he always gave the worst beatings.

Gaara was dropped to the ground in a heap at Sasuke's feet. Sasuke kicked him harshly in the stomach, making him curl into a ball. This was a mistake because then Sasuke kicked him repeatedly in the side. After awhile, Gaara was coughing up blood. This made Sasuke stop his brutal beating because he didn't want to kill Gaara and be charged with murder.

"That's for being such an ugly freak!" Sasuke claimed, and walked off with his chin held high.

Gaara limped the rest of the day.

...

"I'm home," Gaara timidly exclaimed as he closed his front door.

"You idiot! Like I care if you're here. I'd rather you not be!" Gaara's father greeted him as he stepped out from the kitchen.

Gaara didn't say anything, and limped up the stairs to go to his room. Gaara got out his textbook to finish his homework, but couldn't concentrate as today's events kept flashing through his mind. Deciding he needed something to take his mind off it, he got up and went downstairs to do his chores. He decided to clean the kitchen because that was the chore that needed the most concentration.

...

"There," Gaara sighed, as he set down the rag he was using to clean the refrigerator shelves. He closed the refrigerator door and stood up. He turned around only to be face-to-chest with his father. He slowly raised his head to look into those angry black eyes. He felt ashamed at the hatred and disappointment that was constantly there.

"H-Hello, father..." Gaara greeted to break the tense silence.

"Hn. Pathetic. It took you a whole hour to clean the kitchen? You should have started dinner a half hour ago!" Rasa yelled.

"I-I'm sorry." Truth be told, Gaara took so long because his whole body ached from last night and the beating at school today, but he wouldn't dare back talk his father. He learned the hard way a long time ago.

Suddenly, Rasa raised his fist back and punched his son in the face. The force sent Gaara to the floor. "I hate you! Why can't you do anything useful!" Rasa screamed and threw Gaara into the counter. He grabbed the nearest item, which happened to be a metal pan, and hit Gaara across the face with it. Then he repeatedly kicked Gaara in the ribs while calling him "worthless".

The beating lasted for about 20 minutes until Rasa finally got bored with it. That left Gaara a sobbing mess on the kitchen floor until he finally got the strength to stagger back to his room, holding his ribs all the while. When Gaara closed his door, he slid down the wall and cried into his hands.

He was so tired. Tired of his life. Tired of being abused. Tired of the name-calling. He just wanted it to end. As he was sitting there, all the names he's been called ran through his head.

"Freak!"

"Faggot!"

"Ugly!"

"Worthless!"

"Demon!"

"Monster!"

He couldn't take it! He got up and limped into the bathroom. He stood against the sink, looking at the mirror. They were right; he was ugly! With his stupid bright red hair, the dark bags under his eyes from his insomnia, his oddly colored, pupiless eyes. He was too skinny and short. No wonder people called him a freak!

Gaara thought about all his tormentors. The kids from his old school and current school, his siblings, his father, his mother, his uncle. God, everyone did hate him! As Gaara thought this there was a sharp pain in his chest, causing him to clutch it and cry out.

Was his cursed, wretched life worth living? If he died, would anyone care? He came up with a realization. No. No one would care. In fact, everyone would be happy.

'It's finally time I do something for myself.' Gaara thought. He reached into the medicine chest, and grabbed the razor blade. He leaned against the wall of his bathroom, and stared at it for a while, sobbing.

'This is it.. I can't take it anymore... I'll finally be released from this horrible life! Maybe mother will forgive me in the afterlife...'

Those were Gaara's final thoughts as he put the blade to his throat, and sliced it.

(1) I do not own Converse.