Senses
By: Song
Summary: It was a cold night in Konoha, and for a little boy with no home or family, any shelter can be welcoming...
Warnings: Taboo and explicit subject mater. Rated 'M' for a reason.
A/U: Sexual assault and child abuse are real life problems, and its more common than you would think. If you suspect anything of this nature, report it to authorities at once!
Naruto awoke stiff and in sore, hardly daring to believe what had happened. It was all a bad dream. Please let it all have been a bad dream.
But it never was.
Shivers overcame his body, and he flinched in pain.
Sometimes he wished he was blind. Then he couldn't see their leering faces and cold vengeful eyes, or his own bruised and bloody body.
He wishes he had no sensation. He wouldn't experience their gnarled hands and rough nails tearing away his grotesque features.
Fearful he felt for any cloth on his body, but there was none. Grimacing he attempted to stand, staggering and hitting the ground. The sticky liquid plastered his limbs together.
It wasn't the first time this had happened.
He hopes that someday he'll wake up and be deaf. Then he wouldn't hear the insults they threw at him, or the soft tones the spoke to him, letting him know he deserved all that they did.
Naruto wishes he couldn't taste either. He would lose ramen, but then he wouldn't taste the nauseating liquid that they forced into his mouth. The gain was far greater than the loss.
Perhaps some time they'll take his nose too. They've taken everything else, why not that to? At least he wouldn't smell his repulsive own body.
Mostly Naruto wishes it would stop.
Just stop.
Cease.
End.
He shivered again, attempting to smile away the hurt.
He had been worse off.
Tomorrow was his first step on the road to being the Hokage, but that didn't matter anymore. He just wanted to go to sleep, and get away from the pain. Naruto knew however that the same pain would plauge his dreams, making it all the worse when he woke up.
Tomorrow was the Academy. He hoped they wouldn't notice the way he walked funny, or the long dark cloths he always wore. He hoped they wouldn't see how he could never sit still, and how he flinched whenever someone touched him. He hoped they didn't see the grimace of pain the flashed across his face whenever he moved. He hoped they wouldn't feel his frail body, or hear as his bones cracked on the hard pavement. He hoped they wouldn't taste own bitter disapointment. He hoped they wouldn't smell the sickening aroma that he excreted.
He hoped someone would take him from his hell.
But no one would, because no one carred enough to do so.
Fin