He sat cross legged on the wooden panels of his floor, listening to the commotion that began on the other side of his door. His siblings raged throughout the house, throwing objects to the floor as they yelled and screamed at each other, this was how they communicated; with the use of unnecessary aggression. Kankuro, the eldest of the three was a drunk who often came home sputtering nonsense, and Temari, their sister was the town's whore. Not a prostitute, they even had more morals then his slut of a sibling, but an average day ho. Gaara considered himself to be the ordinary one of the three, he attended school, ran errands, even chatted with the townsfolk, anything to escape the horrors which awaited him at home. But even he had his flaws.
When the screaming died down the redhead carefully crawled to his desk drawer, pulling it open without much hesitation. He scanned the items lying inside and slowly removed a knife, staring in some sick fascination at its sharpened blade. Slowly, he rolled his sleeve up and pressed the cold metal against the pale soft flesh that covered his wrists. He then counted to three before sliding it along his skin, staring in awe as crimson red began to seep from the wound, trailing down his arm to his elbow, where it began to drip onto the floor. Gaara then began to undress himself until his clothes lied in a pile next to him, and very carefully carved small, precise lines into his skin. He began with his arms, and then moved to his chest, after allowing the new wounds to bleed he finished with his thighs, breathing heavily in anticipation. This was his way of dealing with life, his way of releasing the negative energy that he stored throughout his body. It had begun when he was around the age of fourteen, but progressed into high school, and now that he was in college he found the act to be quite pleasing. He knew the way people thought about this, the way it was looked down upon in society, but people had no say in the matter, they were the ones who drove him to this sadistic insanity.
After an hour of this Gaara pulled himself up and slowly made his way towards the bathroom. By now his siblings had locked themselves up into separate rooms, sleeping or crying themselves to sleep, whichever one they did. And he made his way down the hall, turning to the door at the far right. Upon entering he began on cleaning himself, wrapping his body in a wrap, and after he made his way back towards his own room, shutting the door softly behind him. Quickly the redhead made his way to his bed, burying himself beneath the sheets. There was only a couple hours left before he was to get up and begin his day, and this surely would take all the energy he could muster up.
Gaara thought for a while longer before closing his eyes and drifting off into a light slumber, dreaming about a world without imperfections, a world where he could just be himself.
He woke to the teacher standing over him, the tip of a ruler lying against the wood of his desk. He had fallen asleep in class, as usual, and the teacher after seeing this decided to wake him, offering him a pink slip for detention. Gaara took it with slight annoyance and stuffed it into the denim pocket of his jeans. When class ended the redhead made his way towards the library where detention was often held.
Upon arriving he saw the usual trouble makers, Sasuke who sat at a table in the front, by himself, his head buried in some magazine, Sakura, the stalker, who sat in a seat nearest to the Uchiha, eyeing him openly, and Kiba who stood in a corner staring out of a window.
He chose a table in the back, farthest from everyone else, a place where he often slept waiting for his hour to be up. But on this particular day, as he was just about to fall asleep, he heard an unfamiliar voice that sounded just feet away from where he sat.
"Hey?"
Gaara slowly sat upright, and turned to acknowledge the stranger who stood before him. The black strands of his hair were tied back in a ponytail that seemed to spike at the end, and the browns of his eyes were almost dull as if life we're too boring for the man. His torso was covered by a leafy green top and his hands were jammed into the pockets of his black cargo pants, his backpack slung over one shoulder.
"Can I sit?"
He eyed the boy who raised an eyebrow questioningly, then pondered this thought. After thinking this over he quickly shook his head, muttering a simple, "No."
The dark haired man nodded and then made his way over to the opposite side of the table, ignoring the redhead's daunting glare. He swung his backpack onto the seat next to him and then sat himself down, leaning far back into his chair.
"Thanks for the seat."
Gaara shot a glance towards the boy who sat looking up at the ceiling, seemingly lost in thought. He was rude, arrogant; someone the redhead couldn't see himself getting close too. By now he just wanted to leave, to go home and relieve himself from this pain, but he had at least a half hour more so he would just have to wait it out.
He resumed his earlier task and came to rest his head back onto the table between the two, closing his eyes as he began to drift off into a light slumber, occasionally waking to the sound of feet pounding against the floor. He wasn't sure how much time had passed but when the teacher excused him from the room, she not only called his name but the stranger's as well, Shikamaru.
The two stood up at the same exact time and made their way towards the door, brushing passed each other. Together they walked in silence until they came upon the entrance of the school where he watched Shikamaru pull a pair of keys out from his pants pocket.
"Well, bye I guess."
After saying this Shikamaru began to head towards his own car, only managing to take a few steps before Gaara called out to him.
"Hey," The redhead muttered awkwardly, "You think I could get a ride? Just this once?"
There was a short pause before he answered, suddenly seeming amused, "And why should I give you a ride?" He asked, cocking his head to the side as his lips curled into a smile, "Even if it is 'just this once'?"
"Listen," Gaara began, his voice tinged with annoyance, "I just need a ride; if you won't give me one I'll just walk myself home."
The two eyed each other before Shikamaru shrugged and continued on the pathway to his own car, stopping at a black colored Dodge Charger with lime green racing stripes. He made his way to the side of the car and unlocked the door, sliding into the driver's seat. After a few minutes the ignition roared and he backed out of his space, his eyes again wandering over to the redhead who stood obviously annoyed.
He leaned out of the window and winked at the redhead who ignored the gesture, and then sped down the road, disappearing amongst the other cars, leaving Gaara where he stood, alone.
It was late in the evening when Gaara arrived home, and the chaos had already begun. Quickly he made his way to his room, shutting the door behind him, and listened to the constant yelling that sounded through the halls. He thought about his life, about his siblings, school, even Shikamaru and again he reached for the same blade that took all his pain away. With the blood came a feeling of anguish and with this came plenty of tears.