She was like a hurricane.

(Unstoppable and devastating.)

Sakura was never one to take mercy on those who killed for fun. She was disgusted in people like that. She had since grown from the weak little girl, to a woman of massive power and ability. No one stood a chance against a Goddess like her, she was unstoppable in their eyes. Her punches were strong enough to force through the skull. Her chakra control was by far that of a God's. Her speed was unmatched, she'd be gone in less then the blink of an eye. She was intelligent enough be seen as a girl with her very own library in her head. She was a master of tactics, she'd outsmarted Shikamaru for several years now. She'd mastered every jutsu that was thrown her way. She was beautiful, truly deserving of an Angel's. She was the embodiment of perfection.

Beautiful in her own way.

(A devil in a designer dress.)

She was an artist in the way she mangled her corpses. It was one of the reasons why Sasori was so fond of the girl. She truly knew a masterpiece when she saw one, and she certainly could create one as well. Her eyes were always looking for the beautiful things in life, she'd always been one to look on the brighter side. That didn't mean she was a sweetheart at all times though. She'd killed her fair share of villages, she'd taken joy in the symphony of their screams and cries. She had a knack for looking lovely and insane at the same time when she went on a spree. Which is why he let her do as she pleased, she truly was beautiful as she cut down her victims. He'd always thought she was looking her best when decked in crimson.

She seemed to be the freest person he'd ever met.

(She never had a care in the world.)

She laughed like her family wasn't rotting in the ground. She smiled like she hadn't killed her old love interest. She took joy in the world as if she wasn't hunting down her old best friend and brother. She had eyes that sparkled as if she never ripped her old sensei to pieces. She sang like she hadn't tortured her old rival and sister. She acted as if she'd never killed her only female role model and loving mother. She found the world beautiful, as she watched the shy girl's corpse burn. She danced with the grace of the water that she used to take away the dog boy's life. She had a smile that gleamed like the blade that she used to slit the fat kid's throat. She had eyes that held such a joy that the Destiny obsessed kid could never have again she she gouged them out with her kunai. She had such soft hands as she used them to snap that bug boy's neck. She used what Ten Ten loved to end her life as slowly as possible.

Then the scars would reopen.

(She wanted to be as free as possible.)

She never seemed to really want to be here though. No matter what the puppet master did for her, she always seemed to be in a world of her own. Her thoughts would haunt her as her past began to whisper in her ear. The morbid secrets twisted around her lithe form, suffocating her in the silence of the empty cries. What was once alive, now dead, came back to her in visions of raining blood and fire. Disease had creeped into her mind, changed her very being and slipped into her veins. The filth had poured into her body,infected her soul and all that remained. Little by little, she began to slip away, right past his fingertips while he could do nothing. She was too far along in this battle inside her mind, too far gone for a medication to bring her back down. Her high never left go, she floated higher and higher, never realizing the sun was so close.

She wanted to fly.

(She just needed to shred the excess skin.)

She wanted to pull apart what she didn't need, strip down to the nothingness that was inside her. Bleed out that pretty crimson, remove the unneeded organs, scrape out the bone marrow and tear away the filth. Piece by piece, he watched her body, along with her, disappear into the void. She was empty and desolate by the time she was twenty. A ninja of immense power she was, though the trauma of the gore, the burdens of the world, tried to smash her to a pulp and she never called out for help. It seems her vocal cords were infected too. What a shame, the poor girl was alone inside her mind while they screamed at her to fix it.

Try as she might, she never did seem to care.

(What was to care for?)

It was an empty and isolated world, she'd gotten rid of everything she'd cared for. Nothing in this world now really mattered. It was all gone, exterminated by her own hands. All she wanted was proof she was worth it, and when she proved it, she realized that by proving her worth, she had to kill those she wanted to prove it TO. A plot twist it was to her, a humorless world with colors that seemed to bleed and fade. It was a wonder she'd survived this long and she began to wonder if she really was as strong as they claimed, or if she really was the weakest one of them all. Either way, she'd be branded as worthless and a traitor, still she thrived for a choice and when she made it, she ended in a bloodbath.

Then the day came.

(She wanted to fly.)

And fly she did. She went up to the sky, she wanted to go to the sun. She wanted to burn away the virus and cleanse herself yet she had no clue where to begin, but to her that was all the more reason to fix what she deemed broken. She'd break out into fits of laughter that no one seemed to understand but nonetheless they smiled and encouraged her to break free of her shell. Jumbled words worked their way out of her mouth in incoherent sentences, yet still they tried to get her to try. She was, they just couldn't see it. But he knew. Oh he did. He knew his precious doll better then anyone ever could. She was as hollow as his puppet body was, and that made him thrilled and horrified at the same time. It was exciting and terrifying all at once. To him, she was a morbid perfection that he'd longed for all his life while his nightmares whispered.

She finally made her leap of faith.

(She was a true hero in disguise.)

She'd always been one of them, even as a genin. She didn't belong with people like them. She was an atrocious sin that could never be cleaned. When she made the jump into his arms, he held onto her as through if he lost her, he'd never breathe again. His fingertips caused bruises on her flesh, her lips swollen and red from his kisses. Her body quivering below him as he continued to claim her as his. Her words broke with each thrust of his hips and his name tumbled from her mouth in a scream. Her eyes glazed over like marbles, her cheeks flushed a gentle pink, the same color of her hair as they danced their deadly tango. He'd never let her go, she was his favorite toy, and he be damned if another touched her the way he did, saw her as she is now, heard THEIR name tumbling from her lips as his did.

But in the end, no one lives forever.

(In the end, a rope stopped her...)

When the time came, and he found her body, he wasn't sure if he caused it or not. The guilt ate away at him, he never stopped the disease from eating away at her. It was funny, because in the end, he realized, she wasn't as free as he thought.

No, she was more trapped then anything...