Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
I see dead people.
- Sear, Cole. The Sixth Sense
Ever since I could remember I have been able to see things. Well, not exactly things, more like people. People I never even knew in my life come and talk to me, as if they were alive. Little girls and boys, grown men and woman, elderly, teenagers come, animals come and bark at me or wag their tail for me to throw a stick.
It frightened me how I saw people others did not. It scared me half to death that when I'd be walking home from school, or just talking a stress-walk, I'd see someone that was already dead all the time. Sometimes it still gives me goosebumps to see someone's pale face and dull eyes stare right at me in silence, pleading with their lifeless eyes for help. Sometimes though, they don't know they're dead.
I never thought of the effect my special girft had on my family. I always thought they knew when I was younger, because most of the time they'd ignore the fact of what I could see, of who I could see -as if they were used to it, as if they knew. It turned out that they were just getting over the shock by the time I was eight when I told them that grandma said hi. Ironically, I have never met my grandmother, she died before I was born.
I remember I saw my mother crying one night when I was ten. The memory is still so clear in my head. I remember that she sobbed in utter pain and shook with cold shudders and trembles. She mumbled things I couldn't hear and rocked back and forth. The way she let down her tears freely and clasped her hands in front of her face letting the tears drench her hands -it seemed to me like she was pleading for something with all her might and heart. She was pleading for some kind of pain to end. I remember that as soon as I saw her I shed tears too. Something grabbed my heart and squeezed it making my chest hurt. My throat had a big ugly knot in it preventing me from gulping or even talking, and the tears in my eyes stung so much and came in overflowing waterfalls. I shook too, and sobbed loudly, I wanted for her to hear me, I wanted for her to stop. I dropped to the floor in our living room and sobbed, pleading loudly for her not to cry, not for me. Because somehow I knew that's what made her cry, she was crying for me.
That night she came running to me, crouched beside me, hugged me with gentle arms...and cried with me.
My mother had cried that day for me not because she though I was a freak, or because she thought her son was crazy and she felt pity for herself; no, that wasn't it at all. She had cried because
she knew that this gift I was born with would bring me pain of unimaginable depth, sorrow so deep it would make you drown, a gut smearing fear that wrenched at your soul making it impossible for you to speak, and numbness that made it seem like you'd never feel mirth again. She called it, "things I wasn't ready for".
At a young age, I had experienced horrible things to an extent, things no one likes to see and feel. However I felt whenever I saw the dead; I couldn't stutter it, I couldn't say it. Everything about my special gift, was ineffably painful and sad. It used to make me want to cry rivers of blood just to see that if such pain got out my system, that maybe I might be able to withstand what sprung at my gut and knotted my throat when I usually saw a spirit's eyes. I got used to it after some time, though I have never felt what my mom described, and for that I am grateful.
I still wait for that one day when I will feel what my mother had described with such strain in her voice that night. I wait for that one day when someone will make me feel at such miserable loss, someone that will make me cry so much I wish I didn't have eyes. I hope that when that day comes, I will be able to ease the pain of the soul -along with mine.
Mother died exactly one year, three months, a week and three days ago. The last words she said to me where, "I'm happy you're finally smiling" after she told me a funny joke, and the last breath she took was at exactly 8:43AM. I never got to tell her anything before her heart stopped, and her eyes dulled -just like all the others. I remember exactly what I did that night after I left the hospital with my father and my older brother. I went up to my room and waited, even though I knew it was highly unlikely, for my mother to come and hug me with gentle arms again so that I could say to her how much she meant to me, and how much she still does.
I still remember the outcome: she never came.
That night was the night in which I felt some of the great extent of my gift. Seeing my mother on the bed -dead- struck a chord in me that pulled the trigger of fear in my heart and let the dam in my eyes collapse so that I could cry with that deep sorrow that almost broke me apart.
Since then I have wondered why she didn't come to see me. I never had control of who I saw, or what –I just did, and when she never came to see me I wondered if it was because she didn't want to. Then I started wondering why she wouldn't want to see her own son after her death, when her son would be very much be able to see her and hear her. I felt utterly alone and frustrated with myself, even if my father and my brother, Itachi, felt the same things at the moment. I wanted to punch things, I skipped school, I stopped talking. One day while I was about to throw my lamp across the my room for umpteenth millionth time I felt a sharp, hard, swift hit in my head -as if someone had hit me with their bare knuckles –and that's when I heard it. Her voice.
"Stop it right now Sasuke Uchiha!"
I stopped and my heart skipped a painful beat -my breath shook and I swore that the temperature dropped greatly. I shudder went down my spine –I got goosebumps.
"W-what...?" I stuttered surprised, paralyzed in my position of blind rage, about to throw the lamp.
"Stop it!"
I flinched and dropped the lamp to the floor, and as it came down with a loud crash I could have sworn I heard a sigh of relief and tiredness behind me. My eyes widened and I spun around swiftly, "Mother...?" I whispered lowly, expecting an answer. I got none, and I saw no one in the room I was alone.
I'm not crazy. I hear voices, I see people, I see things -I don't hallucinate, I learned that a long time ago. I know what I heard, and who. My mother had come, even if only briefly, to tell me to stop and I knew she didn't just mean the little tantrum I was in the middle of. She was sad, and she was also relived, and her strict voice didn't hide that fact.
After a few seconds in silence I decided to find out if she was still with me, so I called her again in a softer voice (I had already forgotten all about my anger). It didn't work, and she didn't respond. For the second time in my life, my mother had left me without me able to tell her anything at all. I dropped to the floor in my knees, head bowed down in shame and sadness. The stinging in my knees informed me that I had landed on the broken glass of the light bulb, and the blood reminded me that I was alive. I shook in the floor, I was still cold. Tears threatened to come down my cheeks, and my throat was knotted so roughly I coughed.
Stupid!
I pounded my fists on the wooden floor in the shatters of white glass, not regretting the fact that it hurt.
How could I have been so stupid?!
Hit, punch, hit the floor again.
So selfish?
I yelled in anger and punched the floor where the white glass was. I saw the blood stain the wood, but strangely I felt no pain.
Damn it... Damn it!
I hugged myself, and I shook in anger, and shame, but I dared not shed a tear. Not one. I caused my mother enough grief, I didn't want to make her sad by seeing me cry. I was going to do as told, I was going to stop.
I remember what I said that day, and I always will.
I took a deep shaky breath, I let it out and said, "...Okay. I'll stop. Don't worry."
In that moment I felt a great warmth engulf me in a ball, and I felt those gentle familiar arms encircle around me. I heard a faint whisper say, "I love you..." and instantly, that warmth was gone -but I still felt loved, still felt fuzzed and over-taken with my Mother's love.
"I'm sorry. I love you. Thanks...Mother," where the last words I said before she left. I knew this time that she was there to hear it.
After months of not smiling, not laughing, not talking and ignoring everyone more than usual, I had finally stopped. I smiled after my little encounter. I smiled so wide that my face hurt a little.
The last things I heard all day was my door swiftly opening, my brother's quick footsteps coming towards me, and his voice urgently saying, "Are you okay Sasuke? You're bleeding!".
My last and first words in a long time that day were, "Yeah. I am.".
The next day, I no longer punched things, I went to school, and I said "good morning" to my family. I also smiled, just a little bit more.
My family, consisting of my father, Fagaku Uchiha, and my brother, Itachi Uchiha, and me (of course), Sasuke Uchiha decided to move to a new house. It wasn't a new place, we still lived in the town of Konohagakure, but we were moving to a different part of town. I could still visit Mother, but I had to move schools. My older brother could still come visit his friends frequently, and my father could rest easily knowing that we were still in our home, our birth place –close to Mother, and his wife.
We left Friday morning, saw our new house the same day, and found out that besides us there was someone else living there too, a week later.
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My last house didn't have someone's ghost in it. They just came on their own, or I randomly saw them on the street. My grandma visited me a lot when I was younger, and sometimes someone would randomly show up in my room in the middle of the night or day and stare at me with their dull eyes -sometimes never saying anything. I usually ignored them at day and tried to sleep at night, but they never left, and even came back the next day. They never left me alone, it was like I was a magnet to ghosts, like I had my ability written all over my face, skin, and clothes.
But now it was different, I knew someone lived in our house by the strange things that happened -by those feelings I always got every time one of them was near. It felt very cold all of the sudden, I shiver ran up my spine, and sometimes I got goosebumps. There was no mistaking it, even if I didn't see him or her, they or it were there –just watching me. Even by all those years of being used to it, it still scared the shit out of me. Most of them didn't know they were dead, some did -that's why they came to me and stared at me. So as the days grew on, I wondered...did this person know he or she was dead?
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"It irritates me that sometimes at home it feels like I'm being guarded, you know?" I said as me and Itachi walked to house after visiting his friends back in our old residence. We had taken the bus and back again, so now all we did was walk the 30 minute walk.
Itachi grunted, "No."
I had to hand it to my brother, he was less of a talker than me –but one hell of a listener. Still, he could at least try to understand. He might not have the same ability as me, but he must've felt something on one occasion, right?
"You could at least try to comprehend me here," I said plainly as we turned a corner, "I'm not just telling you because all you do is grunt and say almost nothing." Somehow, the way I said it sounded like an indirect compliment, a way of saying 'you're a good listener –you don't judge, interrupt, and give me useless advice'.
"You can't blame me, I don't feel the same way you do –nor does dad. We're like, frigid to the feelings you experience in our house." He had a point. I looked at my feet as we walked. I couldn't help but notice something in the quiet and rhythmic sounds of our footsteps...why did it still feel like...like he was still angry after all this time?
We walked in comfortable silence for the next few minutes. Me pondering about his possible continuous anger at me, and Itachi just walking in his own thoughts.
"Are you still angry?" I asked all of the sudden, surprising myself as well. Itachi almost stopped walking. Got him. Quickly regaining his posture and staring at me intensely he asked calmly, "what are you talking about?"
You know what, I thought as I looked back at him with the same intense stare, don't act as if you're over it, I know you're not. I tried making my thoughts surpass my mouth, but it didn't work.I reverted my gaze back to the sidewalk, "Nothing," I said trying not to sound defeated, "forget I said anything."
I wanted to punch him for being such a jerk.
Who was I kidding? Talking with Itachi about something he had no idea about... Not to mention, he was my ego-engulfed, monotonous, merciless (in some cases), silent, broody, moody older brother. He was worse than a teenage girl on her period -though he was like that everyday which is even worse. So you can see how girls play a minimal part in my life.
I sat in my room looking at my homework -yet still not really concentrating (damn Itachi). My first day of school, and I had a lot to catch-up with. I felt like the teachers thought of me as stupid enough to forget what I had learned a week ago. Honestly, I'm not bad in school (or particularly good at it either), but I'm not dumb either. My anger only rose up as I thought of Itachi's anger and resentment towards me.
Why the hell is he still...--
I sighed. I looked at my homework, not really thinking about it in particular.
"After all this time...he's still --" I stopped mid sentence as I felt a sudden jolt. I flinched and my eyes went wide.
I felt something strange coming up –I couldn't describe it. It felt like when you're going up the stairs in the dark and you feel someone is behind you, only you know that you are alone. A penetrating shiver leveled up my spine, and my breath hitched. I know this feeling personally.
He's here, I know it.
I could feel my heart thump harshly in my ears and my eyes grow wide. Was it me, or did it get five times colder than the usual warm-enough temperature? Sweat trickled down my forehead as I clutched my pencil tightly, I felt an intense stare at me behind my back and fear was taking over my senses. I wanted to look back, but that butterfly tickle in my stomach wanted to hold back. I was nervous...scared to the point I couldn't talk -or scream, or yell.
I tried to say something, anything but it only came up as a high pitched whisper to my discontent.
It was now, or never.
I twitched. That slight movement motivated me to turn more and more, slowly –in that twisted fear I was used to. I could hear my breath come in and out through my mouth and nostrils deeply, heavily and my heart rate increased tenfold. Here goes. In an instant I twirled all the way around ready to meet those dull eyes that had been haunting my family and I since we moved.
My head throbbed in beats as I saw the person before me, and my breath hitched in a silent gasp. Staring at me with a blank expression and a pale complexion was a young boy about my age. His skin was -or used to be- tan, but now it was a deathly mix of a pale, gray and tan. Three slight scars adorned each of his pale cheeks. His hair was blond and stale. But what most got me was his eyes. His eyes where blue, blue and bright as they stared at me with their pale purple bags under them. They pierced me with a fear and sadness in me heart I never felt before. They scared me. He scares me –I admitted to myself.
In the same instant he appeared he left, and everything went back to normal; but my arms and legs were frozen stiff in their place. I realized...I couldn't move, and I couldn't breathe either. I tried to twitch, inhale, to move...anything that would give me a sign that everything was okay, that I didn't die of a stab of fear. My room was covered in an eerie silence for minutes with no end.
It was only when my brain realized that the lungs weren't doing their job that I hitched a painful gasp, flinching at the sudden movement and sting in my throat, I fell from my chair to the floor. My eyes widened in utmost fear and I panted loudly and urgently -trying to get to my regular breathing. I coughed and gaged from that knot that suddenly formed in my throat. What was this feeling that felt like I was holding back tears?...
His eyes. They weren't like the others...they weren't dull. Those hues of blues in his eyes...in this dead boys sockets...bright and twinkling with what seemed to be mirth. His eyes ...
"They're alive..."
They glinted with life.
Heheh, I was bored. Probably will never be continued, but...peh.
Um. Yeah.
I edited some stuff I missed last time...
