A/N: I can't be bothered to go back and get the specifics about Gaara's childhood so consider this story A/U. I own nothing.
[Chapter 1]
"There once was a child who was feared above all others. Though he appeared small, innocent, and fragile, he was unstoppable. He had a power inside himself that would not only protect him but would hurt anyone who tried to get near him.
"This child lived a lonely existence. Parents warned their children before letting them outside to play, to avoid him at all costs. Even his family looked upon him with loathing and disgust, always keeping a distance for their own safety.
"Was it any surprise that this child, who was not by nature cruel, turned into the very monster that they all believed him to be? And can you, with clear conscience, blame him for the torture and suffering he caused as he grew?
"This is his story, told by someone who always saw true—though could not always be true."
…
He clutched the stuffed animal closer to his chest, staring in horror at the scene before him. An assassin had been sent to kill him, again. It hadn't been as hard this time, he didn't even shed tears, but the sight of blood all over the walls he called home was something that he was still not used to. He had yet to notice the small red stain on his teddy.
He opened the front door and walked out, desperate for distance and distraction, willing the open air to flush out the coppery smell in his nostrils.
..
His toes squished through the sand as he walked. He had forgotten to put on his shoes but was not bothered. To him, sand was a part of him, and he enjoyed feeling it against his skin; it made him feel stronger and less like the scared young boy that he was.
As he walked, he stayed to the shadows of buildings as best he could. He did not want to attract the attention of the village people, they would only scream at him to stay away in that inhumane way.. yet they called him the monster.
It seemed unfair to him, to be handed this life without understanding why. He watched the normal children, their mothers doting on them, waiting while they played ball to take them home for a warm meal. He had no concept of what that must be like, but he saw their smiling faces and knew that he wanted it.
He continued peering around the corner of a shop at the frolicking children his age. He imagined what it would be like to play with them, to be a part of their world. He was snapped out of his day dream when the focal point of their game came rolling toward him. It stopped only a few feet away from him, beckoning him to join. Without thinking, he dropped his bear and walked out into the sun.
..
He didn't notice the girl running toward the ball until after he had picked it up. He held it out in front of him, his arms extended from his chest as far as possible. He raised the corners of his lips in an attempted smile and met her eyes. They were blue. He thought that they were lovely, a very happy colour. He contemplated how they resembled the colour of pictures he'd seen of oceans, drawn on scrolls, even while the eyes in question widened in horror.
He flinched when she screamed. For some reason, he hadn't been expecting it. His smile fell and he let go of the ball to reach out to her. She was too far away from him though, and she had already started running.
..
He didn't mean to. He had just wanted to catch her. To explain himself, for once. To have someone understand.
..
A glass of warm milk was set in front of him, delicately so that it hadn't made any noise against the table. Distracted, the child was not shaken from his reverie until he felt the weight of a hand on his shoulder. His eyes snapped up to meet those of his beloved uncle.
So many times had he gazed into those eyes and never once had he seen anything but goodness. The man now kneeling in front of him was the only anchor that held him to his life, and to his sanity. With this vision in mind, the boy did not consider that this person was capable of change; he did not realize that he could be anything more than what he saw on the surface.
He never expected things to end the way they did. It was the worst night of his life. And with that end, a new life began. And after that point, he swore never to look back.
..
He was numb. His heart no longer clenched painfully in his chest. He was unaware of the stinging on his forehead. He took no notice of the blood dripping over his eyelashes. He was reborn. He was everything and this corpse in front of him was nothing more—was never anything more—than prey for Sabaku no Gaara.
..