So it's up! The sequel! This will be a lot different from the previous story. A lot darker... and a lot different than anything I have written. For a while I was scared that my readers wouldn't like what I am going to do. But then I thought about it and realized that while people liking my story is important, it's also important that I like it. Even if everyone in the world was a fan of it, I wouldn't be happy if I hated it! So here goes nothing! I hope you enjoy :) I really do!

"Butterfly… Butterfly…" The words slipped from my lips as if uttered by a robot. A machine with no feelings. Just like me. "Butterfly."

A blue butterfly landed on my finger. I couldn't tell which finger. Despite the blood coating the digit, the little legs stayed pure. It was my only hint that this was a hallucination. A figment of my imagination. Those were so common I had stopped trying to tell them apart from reality. Now they were just something I deciphered to pass the time. A game of sorts. It was all I could do in this cell.

How long had I been here? A week? A month? A year? A minute? Was I even here at all?

The ground was cold. The air was cold. And yet I was not cold. This was no hallucination. I had deduced that much. But I should have been cold. But it made sense that I was not. I was not much of anything.

A dribble of water oozed from somewhere in the room. Irregular drops fell against concrete, singing an ugly song. The ground was moist, and reeked. It smelt of blood and other body fluids. And not all of it was mine. Some, but not all. They had given up on the basic torture methods to get information out of me. But that did not mean the pain was gone. My hair was matted. With sweat or blood I would know not. Perhaps a mixture of both. Perhaps it was not real.

"Are you real?" I turned my head towards the dropping of water. "No… no you are not real."

The butterfly on my finger was gone. I did not know when it left. "No… you are real."

"No… you aren't real." Vacillating between the two I muttered to myself over and over again, propped up against the stone wall. "Are you real?" I asked it.

It was real. This cell was real.

This room was called the Honesty room. Yet nothing they did could get me to be honest. It wasn't like I had anything to say anyways. I took the punishment and the pain. I took it as karma. Revenge for all the suffering I had brought. Perhaps it was not even real.

And then it was not the honesty room. Then it was a regular cell. Then the torture tools were gone. "Are you real?"

And so it continued. I stood, wavering. I had decided the cuts on my body were real. The fingers without nails were real. My pinky was gone. That was fake.

Was that window always there? I looked up and could barely reach the bottom of it. "Are you real?"

The moon was not full, but it was more than half full. Or was it full? I reached up, but I could not reach enough. "No… you must not be real…"

I sank back down. Not by choice. My legs gave out. I was done playing the game. I closed my eyes. Now I could not see things. But I could feel. Aches, pains. Most of those were real. I could smell the scent of the ocean. That was not real. I could smell lemongrass. That was definitely not real. I could smell blood… that was real.

No. I would not play that game anymore. I let the scents and feelings overwhelm me. Numbing my senses until I felt nothing. This was when I was at peace.

But not at peace. Nothing could put me at peace. Not since I remembered it all.

It was ironic. The past half a year all I had wanted was to regain my memories. Now that I had I wished to forget them. I would trade my life to just go back five months. Back to when it all started. When joy radiated through my little world and I had no concerns. Innocent and lovely. Bliss… But perhaps that was not real.

If only I could go back in time and redo it all.

I knew the memories might be another hallucination though. Perhaps all that pain would go away. But it had not. None of my hallucinations lasted that long.

And then the door opened. The blood in front of me shined with the light. Light that was so blinding I could see it through my eyelids. "It's not real."

"We are done here. It's time for a different approach."

"It's real." I changed my mind, opening my eyes.

I knew that voice. When I looked up two figures stood in the doorway. The scars on the mans face moved when he talked. The other was passive, hard face with his arms crossed. He was the head interrogator. The man who could search inside one's mind and unveil anything he wished. My words were directed towards the scared one though. The master of torture. Of pain. I twitched my lips up. "Fuck you Ibiki. Fuck you…"

He grabbed my arm. I could feel it. And I could feel it was real. My hair dripped forward. I frowned. When was it red? I thought it was black… "Are you real?"

"Calista. Snap out of it."

I looked up at the blonde haired Shinobi.

"You…" I muttered. "You are real. Fuck you. You are real…"

His throat moved, his Adams apple bobbing as he swallowed. "That was not real…"

The both of them jerked me upright. I noticed that my hair was white. White and red and brown and black. This was it's true color. Perhaps.

Then I was in another room. When did that happen? I thought we were walking…

"We are going to search your memories. We will find out what you know."

I looked up at the two of them. "You… you are real."

Suddenly someone was shouting. I looked towards the door. Who was being so loud?

"Let me in there! Let go of me you bastards! Let me in!"

"Naruto! Control yourself!"

"Let me fucking see her!"

Someone wanted in… the sounds were muffled but I still heard them. "That's not real."

But it was real.

Ibiki sat me down. I was in a chair. Then I was in a container. My location kept shifting. And then there was black. And for the first time my mind was clear. And I knew this was no hallucination. Inoichi had begun his search on my memories, and for every scene he played, I was forced to go back there, to live it all again.

And this was real.