(Disclaimer : I do not own Naruto. All rights belong to it's creator, Masashi Kishimoto.)
Consequences
Rated M for violence as well as adult themes
Real World AU
A Story by LittleBrownBean
The Prologue
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I can't control it. My mind, I mean.
The mental pictures inside my head are bone-chilling- they're called dreams I believe- pictures of my mother and father. Their wicked grins forever taunting me. There's always a door closing in it's end, shrouding me into an impenetrable darkness.
Sometimes I cry. Sometimes, I'm overwhelmed with incredible emotion, that the dam inside of me often cracks and tears flow out from behind my green orbs. I inherited them from my father.
That monster of a man. He was the worse of the two. He'd be the one to beat me without reason. He'd smack me around, throw things. It was a never-ending conflict with him.
Mother was slightly better. She'd only hurt me while under the influence. Alcohol, the most potent of poisons. When she wasn't drunk, she was rather nice to me. We only spoke when father wasn't around, and even then it was only when the time called for it.
I'm sixteen now, my past was slowly fading behind me the moment I set foot out the front door, suitcase in hand. I had to be careful for they could wake up any moment. I had packed what little I had into the suitcase and a single backpack. A few scraps of clothing, a toothbrush, and thirty dollars I had stolen from father's wallet before I left.
I hesitantly pushed open the wooden gate, my only connection to the outside world. Was I actually ready to do this? Run away from the only home I had ever known? My heart was beating and my hands began to sweat. I had no idea what actual life was beyond the closet door, but I decided that I didn't care.
Whatever it was, it certainly had to be a lot better than here.
I pushed open the gate and took off running down the streets of the neighborhood I grew up in. Dogs began to bark at my passing, but I didn't care. I was only aware of the exhilarating feeling that washed over me. An adrenaline rush. The wind moving through my hair, and the sound of mt tattered high-tops hitting the ground were all I was paying attention to.
I took a look back at the white picket fence and matching white house. The upstairs lights had turned on. They had figured it out.
With a slight smirk contorting my otherwise stony features, I picked up my pace and ran down the hill into the brush that separated the neighborhood from the rest of the city. Konoha.
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This is the story of Sakura Haruno.