There are some days it's so bad he just wants to die.

He doesn't care about all his carefully laid plans or what will happen to Konoha after he's gone. He can't even bring himself to care about Sasuke; and that should really worry him, but it doesn't because it just hurts so much.

It burns and aches and he's just so tired, but he can't give up, he's got to keep going. He wants to rage at the world for the hand he was dealt; he bypassed child and went straight to adult. He wants to throw a tantrum, sulk, and refuse to take part in this travesty he's called a life for the past twenty-one years. But he never really had a childhood so he can't miss what he's never had, right?

It's for the best that no one knows him, hell, no one even likes him, he's killed enough to make sure of that. He hides the pain behind the stone mask of his face, no one knows how he suffers, how his heart bleeds for the family he doesn't have any more.

And he cringes when he looks in the mirror, the blood red of his eyes mocking him, taunting him. He fears for his sanity because he doesn't just see his eyes in the mirror any more, they're all there, making him relieve it over and over again; the voices in his head never leave him alone.

It's just too much, too much! And the pain eats him up inside, his heart blackened with disease and his lungs filled with blood. He wants it to stop; he clutches his chest and grimaces as the red liquid pours from his mouth and down his shirt. The amount is staggering and he knows he's losing too much, he's getting sleepy and he can't bring himself to care if he ever gets up again. And in his mind's eye he can see the mirror and his family and he can hear the voices clearly for the first time, and he knows that they forgive him.

Itachi smiles and the mirror cracks.