The floor was gritty and dirty. He couldn't see anything, it was too dark. He wasn't even sure if it was the room or his own eyes anymore. There was crusted over spots on his and the floor space he had the range to move to, and he suspected it was blood. He wasn't sure if it was his own.
Everything ached. He could barely move without the world spinning and his muscles rejecting the movement. His world had gone from his domain to where he could anywhere to the space he was allowed from where his chaffed wrists were cuffed to the world behind him. It was blind. He didn't even know that space either because he was too exhausted to even move; and his main way of seeing was feeling the space around him. The only thing he knew was the cell was small and he was it's only occupant, and this was only acquired because of the sound of his laboured breathing reverberating off the walls back at him, echoing to the point where he thought he would go insane.
But he supposed anything was better than silence. Silence was what haunted him. The moment before the worst moments of his life where it was too quiet to be real. The calm before the storm, as it was most commonly known. But it was much worse than that. He could always remember the deafening silence in the moments before everything he held dear was wiped away. But defying the odds, surviving because of the thing that had made his life hell since the moment it happened, he had survived. He was the prisoner while everyone else was dead.
The door creaked open, the sound deafening loud in the quieted room that had caused his sense of hearing to get better as he strained for any sound to break the silence. At the sight of his visitor, he pressed himself against the wall. He was unsure if he was cowering in shame or fear. He supposed it was the first one. His shirt was now just tattered pieces of fabric on the dirt strewn floor, and his pants probably weren't very far behind.
"Hello, prisoner." His visitor taunted, a smirk appearing out of his shadowed face, made nearly impossible to see because of the light seeping in from the door lighting him up from behind. He remembered the darkness. It was terrifying when he had first come here. Now he was used to it. Now he fled the sunlight.
His visitor moved towards him with the grace of a predator. He knelt in front of his chained form, his midnight black hair glinting as he descended to his prisoner's level. "Tell me, does it hurt?"
He received no answer. His prisoner wasn't broken enough to not be defiant. Sometimes many doubted that he would ever speak the answers they wanted. He was too loyal.
A malicious smile took its place on the face of the man with the night coloured hair. "Do you miss them? Have you finally realised what it's really like to lose everything?" He leaned closer, and his words brushed his prisoner's ear, who was too tightly bound to move away. "Because you only now a piece of what I went through all those years."
The chained man trembled. He was breaking at the seams, and even he could feel it. If they sent this man to break him, he was far too late. He was already gone. He was destined to be from that moment- the moment his life was meant to be hell.
The shadowed man pulled away, looked into the eyes of the one who was the prisoner. "When you imagined finding me for the last time, is this what you imagined?" His breath fanned across his face. It smelled like death; like blood and shadows. "You imagined me as the prisoner, didn't you? You thought you would have to fight for them to save me. But the tables have turned. You're my prisoner now. But guess what?" He leaned forward, his eyes mere inches from the other's. They were black pools, iced over so that they were dead of any emotion that might have existed long ago. He whispered softly, but each word was clearly heard. "I don't want to save you."
The man stood, not even bothering to wipe the grime from his pant legs. "You won't have any more chances to chase me. I would say goodbye, but I can't really say I agree with the good part."
The prisoner spat on the floor at the man's feet. He smiled, his teeth stained red with his own blood. "Goodbye, teme."
The darkness filled visitor spared him one last glance before gliding towards the doorways, stepping outside and closing the door, stopping just before it shut. "Goodbye, Naruto." He whispered, though they both knew the prisoner could hear him.
The door shut. The darkness came. His breathing grew rapid again. Bouncing off the walls, bouncing off the walls, an inch from insanity.
But there wasn't silence. There could never be silence anymore. Because in his mind would always be his own personal devil, wanting to make his life hell. Yes, the Kyuubi liked toying with him.
But he could never compare to Sasuke. He was darkness itself.