Notes: I hope that this isn't too OOC…for my friend Silentkiller013! I really hope that you like it!

And I love this character...and I rather like this oneshot.

Pairings: None

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Monster

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(Monster)

(Deformity)

(Abomnation)

He grew up hearing those words whispered outside of the dark room that he had called home. They sink into his skin, tattooing his insides with swirling lines of poison, lacing into those horrid white protrusions dubbed bones.

The darkness does not help.

Not at all.

The poison just find ways to better destroy him when he cannot see the opponets that he so desperately fights in his sleep, screaming, punching, kicking, nothing makes them go away.

It calls to him, the monster. They gather near the door and whisper in chuckled tones, as if he cannot hear.

(What if the monster gets out?)

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Those rare times that he is called out of his cage he is told to kill.

To slice and slash and spill that color called 'red'.

He hopes that if he does what they say then the monsters will let him out for good.

Once he asked.

Never again.

The splotches of purple, black, and evauntally yellow stay as his companions for weeks, and he could not sleep, and only ate when fingers force substance down his throat.

For the first time that burning thing called tears run down his face.

(The monster must be faking, right?)

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Lips demurely closed and grimaces painted with this emotion he has heard if 'fear'. He sees the 'fear', but does not understand it. When they stretch their mouths too wide open, gaping with teeth, he finds that he does.

The sharks are ready to consume flesh, as he can tell by the black pits in their faces surrounded by ivory sharpened into points, sure that he can see gore rotted and hanging in never-ending tunnels.

(he can never run fast enough from the monsters)

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One day the chuckles are not there, and there is the absence of phalanges covered in fine tracks of flesh shoving food into the slot in the door. He finds himself curious, although he is too 'fearful' to approach the door.

Then something slams against the metal, and there is a light grunt before a trail of blood slides under the doorway.

Eyes growing wide, Kimmimaro slip-slides to the corner, hiding himself in his hands. If he curls up tiny enough than he can not be noticed, is his reasoning.

And it works , for a little bit.

Then there is a slant of light, and a shadow at the doorway. He can tell just by glancing up slightly that it is not a monster, but a man that he has never seen before.

The man stinks of something that he does not trust, and the way that his hair is slicked with lies, and eyes narrowed with things that he cannot names.

At first there is fear, and he feels like he should be more scared of him than the monsters.

But then oily words pour out of mouth, flickering along slitted tongue, and flowing into his ears, revolving and wrapping around his skull.

He finds himself moving, and suddenly he is a savior.

The man leads him away, explaining everything with more words that makes his eyes tear up at this thing that must be called 'happiness' and 'greatfulness'.

When he sees the bodies of the monsters, lips opened in slight o's of shock and ivory hidden, he thinks that they are more beautiful than they ever have been.

(He's free from the monsters)