Hey Peeps, this is nautikitti! Hope you like my joy filled story xD I was considering making more about other characters in the Naruto series but I wanted to make sure that you'd all like it first. Message me what character I should do next, and give me an idea of what to write (eg. Murderer, Rapist ect.)
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto – But I would LUV to own Shikamaru *evil glint in eye*
narusasu narusasu narusasu narusasu narusasu narusasu narusasu narusasu narusasu narusasu narusasu
I've got a problem, a serious problem. This problem makes me different, this problem makes me scared to tell the rest of the world, this problem makes me scared of myself. I know for a fact that if you knew you would be disgusted as well. I can't help that I like it, I can't help that seeing it lying there makes me hungry, I can't help that it's almost like a compulsive thing. I can however, help who it happens to. Most people are oblivious; they think that it's just random, but some people are suspicious, some people are onto me, some people have staked out my house, and the places I hang with my friends. You see, the city I live in is big, it has it groups: Hobo's, Rich People, Teens, Barbie's, Gangster's, you name it this city has it. Lately people have been disappearing, the cops are stumped they don't know what's happening, the victims apparently have nothing in common, but I know different, I know what happened to them, I know were they are.
I don't know when I first realised this problem, but it must have been some were between the really bad break-up and the incident. The incident is something that no-one speaks about, my boyfriend, well my ex- when it happened, disappeared randomly one day and it was another couple of days before anyone actually realised that he was missing. The cops were called and his apartment was raided, the cops ran straight back out after entering and threw up in the bushes, nothing could have prepared them for what they found. Me and my friends hesitantly approached the door, when my friends saw it they paled and ran to join the cops, I just stood there with a strange smile on my face before my expression flickered and I looked horrified and disgusted. My ex-boyfriend was in pieces, literally, his head was sitting in a bowl on the bench, his arms and legs were lying in separate places on the couch and the rest of his body was just splattered everywhere.
Later, when a different bunch of cops had been called, they collected his body. They took it back to whatever little lab they worked in and pieced it back together. A lot of his skin appeared to be missing, it was almost as if it had been pealed off, sliced off and even grated off. The killer was sadistic and my ex-boyfriend's missing skin was never found. The killer later became the serial killer, the newspapers named them something stupid and the reporter that wrote the story was later discovered missing. No-one wanted to do stories on the killer because if the killer didn't like it, you went missing. As you can guess, a lot of people went missing. The disappearances went on for nearly a year before the killer was caught, the killer had slipped up, the killer had gone for a supposedly harmless victim, how was the killer to know that the victim was a retired navy captain.
That's why I'm sitting here, in this little room with the mirror wall, a bruise on my face were I was knocked out. I've decided that I'd had my fun; I had decided I'd tell the truth. That's why these cops are sitting here with mixed expressions on their face. Disgust and revulsion are the main expression's, I can understand that. Fear and non-believing are another major few, and then there was a sliver of the one I had known would be there. Surprise, they were surprised I got away with it so long, they were surprised I had managed to take the victim's down and mostly they were surprised at my age. I'm short and I've got spiky sunshine yellow hair with sky blue eyes and I happen to be wearing a fluro orange jumpsuit. I've got sharpened teeth and nails, to help me with my food.
You see, I grew up as an orphan, and the little money I had managed to scavenge wasn't enough to by food. As I saw it, the only way was to give into my problem, at first I was a little disgusted, but then I managed to find ways to help with the skinning and the cooking of the meat and I grew to love it. My first real victim, as I hadn't counted my experiments as real people, would have to be my ex-boyfriend. In my eyes he deserved to die, the way he had treated me and the way that he walked around as if he owned the place just rubbed me wrong. I had put up with it for long enough and I had been meaning to break up with him, but he beat me to it.. walked up to me with some slut hanging of his arm and told me it was over, laughed in my face AND TOLD ME IT WAS OVER. This angered me, this put me over the edge, this caused me to retaliate, this caused him to die. Poor, poor Sasuke, maybe his brother should have just killed him in the massacre and saved him from my wrath, saved him from himself. My name is Naruto, and this was my story.
narusasu narusasu narusasu narusasu narusasu narusasu narusasu narusasu narusasu narusasu narusasu
Press the button, It calls to you, its like a sirens song (that includes you females, it's a new breed)
PS Should i rewrite it? keeping in mind i wrote it a few years back, and should i add some of my other stories?