(( Okay I know that I have to keep going with my stories... but when inspiration strikes, it strikes hard when it's a good idea to you. So I'm going to continue the others as planned... WHILE starting a new Gaara story. I deleted my "Clashing Blades, Song Possession" story. I just... fell out of the whole Beyblade genre. Although, I still love Kai, I couldn't continue... I'm sorry for the five people who took the time to read and review my story.))
Chapter 1: Are You Sure I Died?
My name is Rebecca Reed. Everyone in Suna knows about Gaara-- the Shukaku holder. Except me. I don't know. Or should I say, I didn't know. The day that I saw him was the day that I died. But I didn't really die: I was reborn by the sands that he used to squeeze the life out of me. But he didn't destroy my body like he did everyone else's. And for that, I am grateful.
He killed me but I still lived. I wasn't breathing but hours after, I was warmed and my pulse restarted. I think it was because I hadn't fulfilled anything in my life. I played it safe and didn't really live. I died without falling in love with anyone. I know, I know, that's not all that important, right? Well, even if it's not meant to be, at least one time is worth it. So I was sent back into my cold, lifeless body. And I recovered in the hospital, the doctors were amazed that I was even alive after I told them about meeting Gaara.
I was surprised that they were calling me Rebecca. That wasn't a name that registarred in my mind. They told me that I am Rebecca Reed and I suppose I was before my death. But I'm different than the way that my "parents" say that I am. I'm supposed to be shy but I'm not. I'm a nice girl but why does it feel so good to be "bad"? All of the clothes in Rebecca's closet are my size but they're so conservative that it makes me feel like I'm suffocating.
The day that I returned to the house, they showed me that incredibly girlie-looking room and I looked in the mirror for the first time. Deep green eyes looked back at me, dark curls of brown hair fell in waves to the small of my back and framed my heart-shaped face. They left me alone and closed the door behind me so I could get used to "myself". Silly people. They thought I had amnesia. It's difficult to lose memories when you don't have any. They were Rebecca's, not mine. And a silver glint caught my eye.
A pair of scissors meant to trim eyebrows gleamed up at me enticingly. I knew what I had to do. With those scissors, I would carve my own name into existence. Rebecca was gone and I was given a life to live. No boundaries, no restrictions. I do what I want to do. After all, what could they do? Kill me? The very thought made me laugh as I began to snip off all of the hair that must have taken her years to grow out. But short hair was so easy to take care of-- I didn't have the patience to brush it for an hour or so. Outlining my eyes in liner, I was thrilled at how much they stood out. I didn't bother with mascara and lipstick. Natural with a touch of finesse.
I think I gave my "parents" a heart attack when they saw their little girl in her bra putting on make up that made her no less than sinful. I looked at them and smiled. "What do you think? Am I still Rebecca? Or do you wish to keep deluding yourselves?"
"Mother" fainted. "Father" turned a delightful shade of scarlet and started yelling at me. "You ARE Rebecca!" he insisted loudly.
My smile grew slightly and I walked over to him. "Someday, you'll see me. You won't see her because she died and I live her life FOR her," I vowed softly before walking out of the house, my bra shining in the sunlight-- I love the feel of silk on my body-- and hip-hugging, high-waisted pants swaying in the wind. I heard him yell at me to come back inside before anyone saw me. I ignored him. He didn't own me-- I'm my own person. I go where I want to go and I don't stay anywhere I don't want to.
((What do you think? Message me or give me a review on whether I should keep this going.))