Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

-O.O-

It was dark and dimly lit in this crowded room, so I made a long sigh and walked out to the streets and enjoyed the silence.

The club's noise was so loud that I could even still hear it after I walked three blocks from it. But I sort of suspected that it was just stuck on my head... it was very catchy, after all.

I walked somewhere far from my house; thinking that I could air out some of the alcohol and tobacco smoke that perfumed my clothes. I'd rather not have that monster-of-a-mother of mine to nag to me of smelling like shit and coming back home late. Yes, I was still going to be hearing my mother's usual sermon about being late, but having her shout at me even longer because of what I had been doing was just too troublesome.

I know what I have done, but I don't need to be lectured on when I could just be sleeping.

Which reminds me—where the hell am I?

O.o.-.-.o.O

I tried looking for something that could tell me where I was, but all I saw were shops that I hadn't been too recognized of. Maybe I'm in the downtown area of the village.

I heard plenty of bad news here; those really bad kinds. I better get out of here...

O.o.-.-.o.O

One bad turn… just one turn by the corner and what happened?

I'm getting harassed by these drunk thugs who think I'm a girl. I don't look like one. I don't dress up and try to look like a transvestite slut. Look at me; I'm wearing khaki shorts and a simple shirt. No mini skirt and stilettos here.

As I tell this to them—they laugh. Troublesome.

O.o.-.-.o.O

For the first time in my teenage years, I run. But not only did I do that, I ran as what you people say: "Like the wind".

I know they're not chasing me anymore. They collapsed a few blocks behind—I'm just going for chances that I might find a way out.

O.o.-.-.o.O

I sit down at this bench and then suddenly, this girl comes in. Her hair looks dishevelled and she had some bruises on her arms.

I didn't bother asking and kept looking up, hoping that I would doze off faster. Man, I need my rest.

The most troublesome part was that she started to look at me—scratch that—when she started talking to me. Sorry to be rude, but I just ran from deranged men and ran out of breath. I don't feel like having small chit-chats right now.

I look at her and she immediately started asking where I was from. I told her that I was from the uptown area—she snorted. She starts teasing me about being a lost baby and I don't retort. Again, I'm not in the mood for talking.

I look back up again. Then she starts asking if I knew my way around. I answered no, of course. She questioned why I look like I just ran a marathon. I answered that maybe I did run one—she berates me and says that I don't look the part to do one.

I sighed and asked her if there was anything she really needed from me. She then stood up and glared icily into my eyes. It was only now I had noticed that her hair was a sandy blonde colour—she smacked me across the face soon after.

Despite the pain, I neither yelped nor bothered to move my hands to touch the stinging cheek. The woman started to shout at me for being a too blunt. I didn't bother answering back; I know she would be as troublesome as my own mother if I did.

To think I have tried to avoid being shouted—even cursed at. What was her problem anyways?

I then remembered about the bruises and her scruffy hair. I then (without thinking) asked her if she had just been raped by someone. It seemed logical at the time. I mean, it was half past ten and judging from my experience of the nice welcoming bastards here— she smacked me once more.

She then started screaming at me and that's when I finally decided to leave. She was getting too loud and I wouldn't want to be in the way of her predictable rampage.

But she just had to grab a hold of my arm. Her face was red in what I believed was anger, and I was half-heartedly expecting another smack on my face… but she just took a deep breath and told me what had happened to her.

Apparently, she was an abused child.

-O.O-

Shika's all bitchy and sensitive here. Crap. I've turned him to a gaytard.
I don't know. I'm feeling sarcastic today.