: PROLOGUE :

When I woke up, darkness greeted me as I opened my eyes. I momentarily panicked (as I always did when I awoke) but memory quickly returned to me, followed by a soothing wave of relief. There were no longer dire consequences for sleeping; Shukaku was gone, and had been for years as of late. My head ached from the restless slumber I had just endured, and I briefly wondered if sleeping at all was beneficial for someone like myself. I could stay wide awake all night with no qualms or difficulties, vigilantly watching over my village and my people, without experiencing the supposedly taxing side-effects of insomnia. Yet every time I did sleep, every time without fail, it seemed, a throbbing migraine always awaited me when I woke.

I have not gotten used to this nightly pastime (to others it was a habit if not a luxury, a necessity that was completely commonplace, but to me it was and would always be a 'pastime') and I have an inkling that I never quite will. As a child I had always wished to sleep, to be like everyone else and rest my tortured mind if only for a single night, but only later did I realize that such a basic need would always be a foreign concept to me - one that proved more harmful than helpful. With all this in mind I would frequently ask myself why I slept at all. To feel normal, perhaps? No, I was not normal. That much would never change, not even with sleep, and I had accepted this fate of mine long ago. Was it for the rest, the temporary stillness of my mind? Certainly not - I had already ruled out this option, if the inevitable migraines were any indication. My sleep was anything but soothing. If not any of these reasons, then what could it possibly be? Why would I sleep, despite the detrimental aftermath? Ah, yes... Then I'd remember, as if I could ever forget - it was the dreams.

The first few times I had dreamed, I was quite alarmed. I had gotten the events of the waking world confused with the nightly visions and had feared, while in the dream, that the events of my life had not actually come to pass. I didn't know what was real and what was fake - what was the truth and what was merely a figment of my morbid imagination. It hadn't taken me long to distinguish these things, but it was initially disorienting nonetheless.

My first dream was grim, if not horrific to most. I was a child of four years at most, and a woman held me in her arms as I sat upon her lap. She seemed familiar... It was then that I realized it was my first victim: my very own mother. She cuddled me close and whispered sweet nothings into my ear, saying my name and outright voicing her affection for me - but I felt oddly on edge. I could not see her face, for her hair covered her visage and hid her expression. At this I was only relieved, however, because for some inexplicable reason I did not wish to see.

I squirmed in her grasp and called out to her, but she only held me tighter. I gasped out in pain, bitter tears gathering in my eyes - why wasn't the sand stopping her? - when her mouth twisted into a wicked grin; a harsh, familiar chuckle escaped the thin barrier of her lips. My fear spiked, and my terror grew tenfold. I struggled harder, attempting to break free of her rough grasp, but it was in vain. Despite my mother's seemingly lithe frame she was extremely tenacious, and she rendered me immobile without much difficulty at all. Cold tears flowed down my face at this point, my heart hammering painfully in my small chest. I begged her to let me go when she finally looked up at me through her short, sandy hair.

But I love you, Gaara, she claimed in a mockingly loving tone that was truly anything but the latter. I froze immediately at the sound of her voice, which was distorted and rough, sadistically sweet. Her face was normal at first glace, but upon further inspection one could see the other side marred and twisted with fangs protruding, saliva dripping from the corner of her mouth, and a familiar black eye with a blazing gold, diamond-shaped pupil, which pinned me to the spot in horror. It seemed that, even while he was gone, Shukaku still haunted me. I screamed as she - he - laughed manically, crushing me in an embrace that literally broke my very bones. I had woken up with an uncharacteristic gasp, the air stuck in my parched throat, and sweat beaded my brow.

Needless to say, I did not sleep again for months after that particular experience.

Contrary to what people may believe, I did not always have night terrors when I slept. Sometimes, on rare occasions when I was lucky, I would dream of happier days, such as the times I was under the custody of Yashamaru. I dreamed of things that had never actually happened, like my siblings standing up for me against our father when we were young. While this could be considered a good dream (I believe that term is relative), I held no grudge over the fact that some of these events did not, in fact, come to pass. Though I'd never admit it out loud my siblings are two of the people I hold most dear to me, and as such I do not hold the past against them.

I even dreamed of more recent times, such as spending time with Uzumaki Naruto - my friend and fellow jinchūriki (though I have long since forfeited the latter title, not that I'm complaining). I must admit, this 'ramen' concoction was still as revolting in the dream as it is in reality; despite this, the dream itself was not unwelcome in the least.

But even so, these were not the dreams I slept for - not the nocturnal reveries that I sought, even at risk of suffering from another night terror - not the nightly hallucinations that I yearned for despite the throbbing migraine and aching physical condition that would inevitably follow... It was for those eyes - those breathtakingly passionate and infuriatingly defiant eyes that secretly thrilled me ever since that fateful day at the Chūnin Exams. Those eyes had haunted me from then onwards, and continue to do so even to this day; those eyes were a particular shade of green.

Haruno Sakura was her name, I later discovered. As a genin she had been so weak and downright pathetic that it was almost laughable; that was my first impression of her upon meeting Team Seven. She was a naïve little girl who was only playing ninja to win the affections of a certain arrogant Uchiha, who used Uzumaki as her personal whipping boy, despite the fact that he loved her much more than she ever deserved. She was pampered and ungrateful - a foolish child as ridiculous as her obnoxiously revolting pink hair... And I absolutely despised her, right from the very moment I had laid my eyes upon her.

She had everything I had ever wanted, everything I lacked, and she represented that which I could never have. Friends, family, innocence, love... She took it all for granted. Her very existence contradicted my own, spited my own, and made me doubt myself and my extreme existentialistic ideals. When she had jumped in front of me to shield and protect the Uchiha, willingly sacrificing her own life for another so easily, I had only hated her much, much more through my consternation. How dare she stand up to me to save the Uchiha? How dare she look at me with those eyes - those fiercely determined green eyes? How dare she...? Such selfishness and love - she was mocking me with that gaze, and I felt as though I had never loathed anyone more than I ever had in that one moment.

In that same moment, I had decided to kill her in the cruelest way possible. I would kill - no, devastate her, completely destroy her. I longed to make her cry, scream, bleed... I wanted to obliterate she who was Haruno Sakura and everything she represented - slowly - from the inside out. I would break her spirit, make her experience the hell that I had lived my whole life, and make her beg for mercy... Then, and only then, would I deal out the final blow, make her pleas for forgiveness turn into blood-curdling screams of agony... I had almost succeeded, too; I had pinned her to that tree to keep her from fleeing, saving her for later after I dealt with her meddlesome teammates. After killing Uzumaki and Uchiha I had planned on going back for her, where I would have taken my time torturing her. I would have killed her psychologically, mentally, spiritually, making her an emotionless shell of her former self, before brutally ending her existence. That was the plan - but my schemes were ultimately foiled by Uzumaki Naruto and his will to protect the ones he loved...

Never before have I been more relieved over a personal failure, I realized soon after my reflection of that day. To say it had been a very close call would be a severe understatement.

A/N: So, this is the prologue to my new GaaSaku! I'm having a fun time writing from Gaara's perspective. I think I can make it more realistic this way. Anyway, this prologue may seem a little slow, but the next chapter will dive into the plot! I used this to sort of 'set the stage' so to speak, and it mostly consists of flashbacks with his inner thoughts revealed. I hope you liked it, maybe review and stick around!