Disclaimer – I do not own Naruto or any characters relating to it, besides the original characters in this story.

All throughout my life I've heard; whether from movies, books, celebrities, or even total strangers; granted many off the latter I suspected to be senile and running on their last leg anyway, that death wasn't then end. I never thought that they meant literally. Even now I retain a sense of skepticism, and I was present for my own funeral. I can thankfully say that besides my own, the funerals I have attended have been few, and impersonal. I've always wondered if I was the only one who noticed that no matter whom the deceased was, or where they were from the priest or presiding authority at the funeral used the same phrase. "We are not here to mourn the death of _ _, but to celebrate a life." I didn't get to see all of my service, but I imagine that; despite my youth the very same phrase was used at least once.

The thing I remember most about that day; besides my accident, is my mother. I had never met a more headstrong no nonsense woman. I had never felt so shocked than when she had burst into tears at the pulpit. Gripping the stand so hard her knuckles had been pasty white long after she took her seat. I don't remember all her words, but I remember thinking that that was the most genuine emotion I had seen from her in my entire life. Even when I had gotten into an all-out fist fight with my older brother in her office, her reaction was feigned and forced. At least until we got home, she had been quick to tell me that if I laid a hand on my brother ever again I wouldn't live to see my eighteenth birthday.

Growing up I had no illusion of equality in my family. My father died when I was a baby, and my mother's favoritism became apparent as soon as my brother showed even a remote interest in law. I had been more interested in art; music, painting, and literature mostly. My father had been a famous appreciator of the arts and my own interest only served to push me and my mother even farther apart.

"I'm so sorry! I was too stubborn to tell her how much I loved her, how proud I was of my baby. She was definitely her father's daughter, and I wish I could say that I didn't resent her for it... but I can't. I'm so sorry baby, so sorry…" Her words still echo in my mind, whenever I feel not good enough, or that someone didn't approve of me or my actions. I think of how she acted around me when I was alive, and I remember something her old secretary used to say; "If you can impress that bitch, then no one can tell you that you aren't good at what you do."

I apologize if I'm going too fast, or if you find this all just too unbelievable. My story is neither short nor simple, but it's true. If you will stop and listen I'll tell you my life's trials, and my journey to find something I hadn't even known I was missing. I'm not sure at what point my previous life took a turn for the worst or why I was so troubled at the time of my death. So, I will just start at the accident and hope you find enlightenment from my long suffering.

'Its official, my life sucks.'

My purple polka dotted rubber rain boots made sloshing sounds with every step I took down the weirdly pristine side walk of the suburban neighborhood. The angry trembling of my shoulders shook the rain off my coat and down into my boots as I clomped my way down the street. A disgruntled sound bubbled up in the back of my throat as my short hair swung up to smack me in the face. Huffing angrily I did my best to wipe the water off of my glasses but ended up yanking them off and pumping my arm up and down violently in an attempt to dislodge what water I could from the thick teal frames similar to the way I had about thirty times already. On that note my rain boots needed to be emptied again. Shoving my glasses back up the bridge of my nose and yanking the wet hair from my eyes, I peered around the relatively deserted street and spotted a lone park bench just kitty corner from the street corner I was perched on. Continuing my agitated grumbling I hopped off the curb with a wet plunk and bowed my head to keep the precipitation out of my eyes. This was my first mistake.

A thunder crack in the distance muffled the urgent sound of a car horn. Dark purple material blocked out bright headlights. The sound of screeching tires and glass breaking cut off the sound of a blood curdling scream, the sickening thud of metal striking flesh.

I would not make it to the hospital.

Author's note – Thank you for reading please leave a review for my efforts and let me know what you think!