Okay! Answer time!
I wanted to edit this story completely because I realized something. You can't have an OC without giving it some sort of interesting backstory to write about. They can't be forever happy, shy, blah blah blah. Anyways, I felt mine was like that. I mean, she had a nice family, a nice job, nice everything.
ICK.
So, if she had left to the Naruto World, it would be extremely hard to type about her feelings of leaving home. Whereas if the OC was troubled in some say, their life throughout the story could hint on whether they love/hate the Naruto World, and whether they want to stay or go. The decision is sad and angsty to read about, which is what I wanted to get across to all of you!
ANYWAYS, here is the first, re-edited chapter!
It's really, really long, but bear with me! Shannon DOES MEET SASUKE IN THE FIRST CHAPTER! So, please read!
Enjoy!
It's funny, isn't it?
Life, I mean.
It's mysterious, frightening and always against you. Always plotting how to take you down again and again. Just when you think you've escaped its clutches, it drags you back down again, this time, refusing to let go. Oh, you can try and escape again, sure, but I wouldn't recommend it.
I mean, nobody gets out alive, anyways.
You can try and change your life. For the most past. You can do good deeds and receive good karma, you can appreciate the little things you never knew you had, or you can just be nicer to people you meet.
But one often meets his destiny on the road he takes to avoid it.
"Okay, Shannon, you know the drill."
Giving a silent nod, I approach the protected glass. The guard behind it gives me a sad smile—one that is sad to see me back in such a horrid place. I take off my clothes, remaining in nothing but my underwear. I scrunch my street clothes up and toss them into the big, grey bin to my left. Seconds later, the guard passes through my old uniform, neatly folded.
I mutter an incoherent thanks and quickly slip into the last pair of clothes I'm going to be wearing for a very long time. Then, my wrists are detained and I am led through the painfully familiar barred doors. My chaperone has her hand gingerly placed in the middle of my back as we walk down the echoing hallway.
We pass numerous cell blocks. The people here—that remember me—call out to me. Few are happy to see me back. Others aren't so nice. They shout nasty things out to me. Their harsh words bounce off the walls and drum against my ears. But I don't care. I ignore them as I am led to my cell.
My wrists are then freed of their own metal prison, and the barred door is screeched shut. The metallic clinking of the lock tweaks shut. The nasty shouts die down, replaced with malicious snickering. Soon enough, that dies down too.
They say life is all about giving second chances, and receiving them. Although, these chances are hard to come by, and sometimes, may not be given out at all. Only the lucky ones who deserve them are the ones who get them. I was one of the lucky ones. But I shamefully shot myself in the foot again, resulting in this hellhole becoming my home—for the second time.
The bright sun burns through my barred window. Dark lines are flashed across the wall, floor and tiny cot that rests in the corner. As my gaze runs along the faded sky-blue walls, I sense that there is something familiar about it.
I realize that they have been courteous enough to give me my old cell. I muse that thought to myself thrice, then dismissed it. Then another thought occurred; if this was my old cell, then that means—
"Can't say I've missed your sorry face 'round these parts."
I turn back to face the barred doors. I see a slender hand holding out a gritty piece of glass. My reflection bobs around it before disappearing. A small smirk quirks at the corner of my mouth as I near the door. I grip the bars and rest my forehead against them.
"Hey, Jules," I say.
Her laughter tinkles from next door, gracefully floating into mine. I grab the little mirror from underneath the cot and hold it out between the bars. After a few seconds of turning my wrist, Jules' lovely face appears in it. My heart almost pangs at the sight.
As always, she is pretty and smiling. Despite the fact that we are locked away in this death house, she still finds a reason to smile. And now, that reason is me.
"I know you missed me, but you didn't have to get your ass thrown back in here just to see me," she smirks. "There is such a thing as visiting hours, remember?"
"It's nice to see you too, Jules."
Jules is two years older than me. I am seventeen, and she is nineteen. She is my only friend in this godforsaken shit hole.
I turn the mirror downwards and see her bulging belly. My eyes grow wide. I never knew she was this far along. In the little mirror, I see her run a hand over her swollen stomach.
Jules was admitted to this place a few years ago. She used to take a lot of drugs. She was an addict. An intervention was then staged by her family, which resulted in Jules beating her sister to death. After her trial, she was tossed in here. Her family never visits her. They hate her for what she did.
And Jules doesn't blame them. She knows she has done wrong. When we first met, I heard her sickening sobs echo through the cell block every night. She would cry her sister's name over and over. It was heartbreaking. Often, she made me cry too.
I was let out four months ago, on a good behaviour bond. Jules wasn't so lucky. She's serving twenty years in this horrid place. While out on my behaviour bond, I received a phone call from Jules. She explained that the correction centre agreed to release her for two weeks to visit her dying grandmother. After that, she was to return to the juvenile girls correction centre to serve the remainder of her years.
While out on those two weeks, Jules fell pregnant to her on-again, off-again boyfriend. I had that news delivered by phone call too.
"So, how much longer now?" I asked.
I saw Jules affectionately rub her stomach.
"I'm due next week, darl," she replied, a huge smile crossing her face.
I was in shock. "Oh, Jules, congratulations!"
Jules thanks me and goes back to rubbing her stomach.
So, the nine month mark is almost here, hm?
"What's going to happen to you?"
Jules begins to explain that her mother found out she was pregnant with a baby girl. At first, the mother denies giving Jules her blessing, but when Jules mentioned that she was going to name the girl after her mother, sister and grandmother, her mother accepted.
And with that, Jules explained that her mother went to court to beg for Jules to have the baby delivered in a hospital. Then, she would be staying in there for a week, followed by her mother's house for a month. The best part was, if Jules showed a real change, the detention centre would allow her a year out of prison to look after the baby, and then would have to return for her remaining eighteen years.
Jules didn't care about the fact that she had to return to this hellhole. She was just glad she would be able to raise her child in the most important year of its life.
That night, I sink deep into the scratchy sheets. I was tired. I hadn't bothered to eat. I never went out of my cell to eat. I had made too many enemies in this place. I didn't want to confront them after I thought I'd be rid of them forever.
The pale moon casts the same, depressing shadow over my room. The clouds roll over, eliminating the striped pattern that never seemed to leave this room. I darkness greeted me warmly. Soon enough, the moon breaks through, and the stripes return.
At eleven pm, the lights are shut off. The night guards undertake their shifts. It is a pleasant night tonight. Although, the nights were always pleasant here. Nothing ever happened during the night. This was a female correction centre; women prisoners were just that little more sensible than the men were. No fights ever occurred, unless a rumour was started. I paid no attention to these rumours. Now, I just wanted to serve my four years and be rid of this place forever.
Suddenly, Jules' voice floats into my room.
"So, what you in for this time?"
I sigh and turn over in my cot.
"I'm innocent."
A cynical laugh and voice greet me from an unknown direction.
"Aren't we all?"
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
The night is cold. I forgot how cold this place used to get. Being home for the past four months was such a blessing. And I just threw it all away. Now, I was paying for it. This prison uniforms were ridiculous. In the summer, it was too hot to wear them. And then in winter, they weren't warm enough.
I huffed irritably and pressed down deeper into my bed. The sounds of chattering died down as I drifted off to sleep. Just before my eyes took their last glimpse of reality, a soft voice rang out through the cell block.
Would you dance… if I asked you to dance?
Would you run… and never look back?
The soft voice grew louder. I then realized it was Jules.
Would you cry… if you saw me crying?
Would you save my soul… tonight?
The whole cell block went deathly quiet as Jules' beautiful, angelic voice rang throughout the cell block.
I smiled quietly to myself as Jules continued to sing. This was the only thing I missed about prison. It was that soft, gorgeous singing voice that would be heard each and every night. And it would sing the same song, every single time.
I can be your hero, baby…
I can kiss away the pain…
I will stand by your forever…
You can take…
My breath away…
Her voice was so beautiful that not even the guards scolded her for singing. In fact, this was why the daytime guards stayed behind at night. Because at eleven-thirty every night, without fail, Jules would sing in her hauntingly beautiful voice, stealing the breaths of everyone in Cell Block D.
Nearing the end of the song, Jules' voice picked up. It grew high and more powerful, but still remained breathtakingly gentle.
Oh… am I in too deep?
Have I lost my… mind?
Well I don't care…
You're here…
Tonight…
I close my eyes and savour the beautiful moment.
You can take…
My breath away…
Silent tears fall down my cheeks. I also hear the muffled sobs of the other girls in here. As hard as stone as they may be on the outside, Jules' voice is the only thing that can break them.
I can be… your hero…!
I can kiss away the pain…!
And I will stand… by… you…
Forever...!
You can take… my breath away…
You can take… my breath away…
I… can… be…
Your hero…
That night, I fell asleep with a smile on my face.
The week passes quietly. I spend all my time in my cell, except for when I shower. In the showers, some of the girls shout threats at me. Again, their harsh words drum against my ears, but I ignore them. One of the girls tried to advance on me, but thankfully, Jules stepped in. From now on, Jules get a shower all to herself. I join her, pleading that Jules may need help getting in and out of the showers, defending the case that she may slip and fall and hurt herself, and no one would ever know.
I refuse to leave my cell to eat. Jules doesn't have to leave her cell to eat, though. Because she is pregnant, the prison serves her special food that helps the baby. It's a prison, yes, but that does not mean they can put an infant in harms way with that godforsaken slop they call food.
Something clangs noisily on my stone floor. I look up. Jules is standing there, her special food tray in one hand, the other on her hip. She points to my tray.
"You can't waste away in here, love. Believe me, we've all tried."
I utter a small laugh. If it weren't for Jules, I would have killed myself by now. Or at least gone insane. I prefer the latter sometimes. She is the only thing that reminds me that there is something still worth living for in this world. She always seems to be happy about something, despite the fact that we both don't exactly lead amazing lives outside of prison.
So I eat the slop—barely—and resume my daily activity of doing absolutely nothing. All I ever did was sit in my cell and think. Sometimes, I would write. Nothing in particular. Sometimes it would be poetry, and other times, it would be stories.
I showed Jules one of my stories once. She was amazed.
"You have a real talent, kiddo," she had said. "Maybe you should become a writer."
I had often thought about what she said. After much praise for my works, I now spend all my time in my cell, writing about anything and everything. Jules often asks to see more of my works. I lend them to her, and sometimes, I catch her reading them to her swollen stomach. Then, I hear her giggle every time her baby kicks. I have never heard such delight in a person's laughter before.
Today is the big day.
Today is the day that Jules goes to the hospital to have her baby. She is ecstatic, I can tell. I would be too. She was busy all morning packing all the necessary things she would need. A little after lunchtime, Jules' mother arrives to take her away.
I am let out of my cell to say goodbye to Jules.
My heart pangs as I wrap my arms around her, careful not to press too hard against her swollen stomach. Suddenly, I jump back, feeling a little nudge against my stomach. Jules simply laughs at my reaction.
"She is excited to come into the world," Jules says, gazing affectionately at her stomach.
She then looks at me.
"She's excited to see her godmother."
My eyes grow wide.
"…Godmother?" I barely manage to choke the words out. Jules nods. She then grabs my hand and presses it against her baby belly. After a few seconds, I feel two little nudges. I cannot keep myself from smiling.
Jules then envelopes me in a warm, sincere hug. I snake my arms around her back and return her hug. Tears begin to form in the corners of my eyes as she lets go. I see tears in her eyes too.
She wipes them away. "You're going to make me cry, Shan!" she exclaims, laughing through her tears. I laugh too.
As she leaves, Jules plants a small kiss on my forehead and hugs me one last time.
"You'll be out of here soon, kiddo. And I'll come visit you every day, I promise. Just keep your chin up for me. I love you."
I bury my head in the crook of Jules' neck. "I love you too," I say.
That night, I find it easy to fall asleep. I feel at peace. Jules is finally getting out of this place. She finally gets to be a mother. The birth will be hard for her, but she will pull through.
The guards have promised me to update me on Jules condition after the birth. Her baby is due in two days. I am excited. I start imagining scenarios where Jules comes to the prison with her adorable baby. I imagine the baby to have that gorgeous black hair, just like Jules. I see both of them in my head, smiling the same smile. Jules looks so incredibly happy.
I start to think that my life won't be so bad in the year that Jules is gone. She is a loyal friend. She promises to come visit me every day, and I strongly believe she will be true to her word.
After all, I am the godmother.
It's been three days since Jules left. I am really worried. The guards should have come to me yesterday afternoon with the news on Jules. They promised me.
After the fourth day, I can't take it anymore. I can't write, I can't sleep; I can't do anything. Every guard that passes my cell refuses to give me an answer.
Finally, Angie, one of the female guards, heads toward my cell. I jump up from my position on the bed and cling to the barred door, desperate for any kind of information. She walks slowly, and her face seems grim.
I just believed it to be a trick of the light. I refused to let any negative thought about Jules and her baby course through my mind. But as she draws closer, I can truly see that her face is grim. There is no usual smile on her face.
Something was wrong.
My heart began to race as she finally approached my cell. A knot of dread forms in the pit of my stomach as Angie opens her mouth to speak.
"Shan, love, I have something to tell you."
Her voice is grave and causes tears to form in the corners of my eyes.
"The baby… the baby didn't make it…"
A choked gasp escapes my throat.
"She… Jules… she miscarried right before the birth, dear."
Now Angie struggles to fight back the tears. She then places a hand on mine, which is still clinging so hard to the black bars that my knuckles turn white. My body is frozen.
"There's more," she croaks through her tears.
I pick my gaze up from the floor and bore my eyes into Angie's.
"Jules… she… she couldn't take the fact that she lost the baby… I-I'm so sorry dear…"
She places something cold in my hand, and then walks away.
That night, there is no beautiful serenade. There is no hauntingly angelic voice guiding us to sleep with a small smile on our faces. The cell block is eerily quiet. Nobody makes a sound. I hear a few muffled sobs. A few people whimper sadly.
I just lay in my bed, unable to say anything.
I clutch Jules' necklace in my hand. I stroke the engraving work around the rim of the flat, circular pendant. I hold the pendent up in the moonlight. A tear—a single, lonely rivulet—runs down my side of my face as I gaze upon the 'J' engraved in calligraphy in the centre.
My heart pangs over and over again in tremendous pain.
Weeks pass since Jules' death.
I don't dare venture out of my cell. My mind is still registering with the fact that my only friend in the whole world is gone. The guards organise a small service to remember Jules, but I cannot bring myself to go. The pain is too much.
It's like the light has been torn away from my world. Everything seems so surreal. I can't eat, sleep or do anything. Memories of Jules are constantly abuzz in my mind. I try hard to rid them, but they keep coming back.
Soon enough, I cry.
My sorrowful wails echo throughout the cell block. Sure enough, cries of the other girls fill the cell too. The sobs tear their way from my chest, getting louder and louder. I clutch the sides of my head and scream until my voice is hoarse.
Jules is gone.
And she isn't coming back.
A month has passed. Others seem to have forgotten about Jules' death.
As I venture out into the shower for the first time, a gang of girls confronts me. They scream threats at me, telling me they will kill me. They shout horrid things at me, and start to push me around. Soon enough, I am thrown to the floor. They kick me. They pick me up and throw me down again.
My head spins violently and I taste blood. The shouts continue, but are incoherent. After what seemed like hours, I am left alone on the bathroom floor. I am naked and wet. But I do not feel any physical pain. The only pain I feel is of the memory of Jules.
Two months have passed.
I am no longer the girl I used to be. I no longer smile, nor do I talk to anybody. I sit in my cell, refusing to leave. I am cold and hard. My light has been stolen, and it's never coming back.
I constantly get into fights with other cellmates. My anger is uncontrollable. Most girls are frightened of me. Other still pick fights. Some have ended up pretty bad. One girl had to be taken to hospital. I heard she was in a coma. I know I should have felt something, but now, I felt nothing. So far, I have had my nose broken, and my face slashed with a knife. I now have a scar on the left side of my face that travels down to my collarbone. Other times, I just end up with a few cuts and bruises.
Not even physical pain can replace the emotional pain.
That night is another sleepless one. Earlier, I got into a rather large fight with one of the inmates. it was in the showers, again. We were rolling around on the floor, naked, screeching and beating each other with blind attacks. I don't remember much of it; my head was pounding way too hard to register much. The guards eventually broke it up. I was taken to the infirmary with a serious concussion and a few bruised ribs. Other than that, I remember nothing.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Now, I try to sleep, but I can't close my eyes. Every time I do, I see her face. She smiles at me. Her kiss on my forehead repeats over in my mind. Her gentle humour rings in my ears.
I want to be out of this place. It's too painful to stay. It's too quiet without Jules. Every night is cold and deathly quiet. Nobody dares to sing. Nobody has the right to. Jules was the only one allowed to sing, and it remains that way to this day.
I reach up to my neck and gently finger the necklace. I rub my fingers over the familiar engraving. This time, tears fall unwillingly. But I don't want to stop them. I miss Jules.
"You'll be out of this place soon, kiddo…"
Tears fall harder, faster.
"Keep you chin up for me…"
I roll over onto my side and silently cry.
Please… just take me away from here… I don't care where I go… I don't care what I do… I just… I just want to be out of this world. I can't take it… Please… take me away…
My chest heaves uncontrollably.
"I love you."
Please… take me away…
I open my eyes.
I hear birds chirping in the distance. The soft, slow whispering of the trees greets my ears. I sit up and rub my eyes. I'm in a clearing of some sort, surrounded my huge trees.
I stand up and survey my surroundings.
Is this a dream? This seems too real… too vivid to be a dream…
I begin to walk.
Soon enough, the thick trees give way to a small desert. I continue to walk. The sun beats down on me. It was getting quite stuffy inside this stupid prison uniform. The wind whips sand in my eyes, but I keep walking.
I begin to see large rocks litter the landscape. Some are small, and some are big enough to be mountains. I hold a hand over my eyes to shield out the sunlight. The heat becomes unbearable, and I desperately try to search for some shade.
I quickly spot the largest boulder and stand in its wake. The sun casts a long, cool shadow over the sizzling sand. Beads of perspiration streak my face.
Groaning from my tiredness and from the heat, I crouch down and lean against the large boulder. I wipe the sweat from my face with the back of my long-sleeve prison shirt. I cringe. I feel dirty all over.
Suddenly, the ground begins to rumble. I stop dead in my actions and listen.
The rumbling grew louder. Soon, it sounded like the earth was ripping apart. I quickly stood up, scared out of my wits.
I feel nothing beneath my feet.
By the time I looked down, I was greeted by eternal blackness. I was falling. I was falling fast. Before I could scream, the ground greeted my backside.
Hard.
I cried out in pain.
The rumbling stopped. I rolled onto my back and arched myself in pain. I had a splitting headache and my ears kept ringing. I tried to focus my eyes, but I couldn't.
Suddenly, someone called out to me.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing here?"
I jerk up. There is a man heading toward me. He shouts again, and I see him take out something from behind his back. It's shiny and large.
A gun…?
I jump to my feet and run full pelt in the other direction. As I ran, I noticed that I was running down a long corridor, lined with candles. Nonetheless, I kept running. Soon enough, I heard more shouts coming from behind me.
I glance behind me to see three men running after me, brandishing their weapons. I cry out but keep running. My legs begin to burn and my chest feels as if it's on fire. I could feel myself slowing down, or they were speeding up.
I felt something tackle me from behind. I fall face down onto the hard ground. A huge pair of arms is wrapped around my waist. I scream, and manage to writhe free. The man makes another grab for me, but I swing my fist into his face with a satisfying crack. He stumbles back and shouts in pain. I stumble to my feet and keep running.
More men tackle me from behind.
Again and again, I fend them off with everything I have. I throw numerous punches and kicks. Sometimes I hit them, and sometimes they hit me. But I keep at it. Soon enough, all three men are on the ground, either unconscious, or in too much pain to get up. I was shocked. Had I just done that?
So I ran.
As soon as I felt I was far away enough, I stopped. I was breathing deeply and heavily. I collapsed against the stone wall, trying to regain my breaths. My chest is on fire and my whole body is numb from fighting.
I hear someone shout.
"Hey! Get back here!"
I groan and try to get up. But I can't. I hear the scuffing of his footsteps getting closer, getting louder.
Come on, come on, dammit! Get up! You have to get up! Move it! Move!
I took three steps, and then suddenly someone was standing over me. I gasped. I hadn't even seen him run up behind me! He was fast. Much faster than the others.
He grips my neck and thrusts me against the wall. I feel blood trickle past my lip. I grip his hand and try to pry him off, but I can't. He's too strong. Much stronger than the others.
My anger swells in my chest. Despite the fact that this was a dream, I wasn't about to lose to some punk that only existed in my mind.
So I took one hand, clenched it, and drove it smack bang into the side of his face.
His hand immediately releases me. He stumbles back and I drop to the floor. I cough and splutter, but scramble to my feet. I start to run.
Before I could even get three feet away, I feel a sharp pain at the back of my neck. I collapse to the ground. I suddenly feel extremely weak and heavy. I roll onto my back and take one last look at whom my captor was.
A pair of deep scarlet eyes were staring back at me.
I tried to protest, but blackness took over.
Sheesh! That was a fucking, long-ass chapter! Haha. Sorry it was so long! I wanted to post a Sasuke x OC where the character is much like Sasuke; angry, brooding and a sometimes a bit of a cynical jackass. Because writing about a happy OC is boring as fuck. I like to write about angst and humour, incase you haven't already noticed haha.
PLEASE R&R! xx