The soft intake of breath and he feels the solid, never changing rock underneath his child's back. He slides off slowly, feeling the weight of every inch bear down on his feet, he turns, fingering the face his mother had carved into the rock when she was a girl. It's a funny face; Smart, wizened eyes, a short, belated mouth and a pudgy nose, the image of her grandfather and only guardian until he died. The wish was on the back, like always, always.
'Kami-Sama, take me out of here.' Tiny, carved, letters, delicate to the touch.
"Come take me away too, please." He whispers, wincing as the whip marks on his back scrape across the rock. His wishes and whispers turn to tears and threats.
"Mother." He mumbles and wonders if the cold, shaded stone that he holds can hear him. He gives up and walks with all the grace he can muster for a sore loser, into the bright, nonchalant sunlight that hinders and drives the shade. It scorches the skin, teases the hair into dry curlicues that dance into a froth across his scalp. Denare's yell from the village send him scampering headily, back to his matron rock.
"Gaaaaa-aaa-raaaaa!!" Her shriek escalades to breaking as Gaara runs with all apathy in place to his aching body that feels the payment of working hours in the sun, collecting the Bushwa that grow in the secluded shade ever rare in the sand. As he runs, sand dusting into his eyes, he thinks he hates Denare, as he rounds up the small, laboriously laid path of rocks the tall, woman sweeps from the hut to acknowledge him. Tall, pale, beautiful, black haired and a haughty air around her, Denare had been married off without a second thought. The second wife and matriarch of half the village from marrying Gaara's father, she felt loathing for the tanned, light haired children of Saya and mad them work as an adult for the meager food and lodging they were given while they're father was out of the area, negotiating change and the future.
"Little brat!" She hissed through porcelain-white teeth that clink and clack like a beasts.
'So disrespectful! You DARE leave us to our own resources at this time! YOU deserting the picking fields to chase daydreams! H-how dare you!" She snaps, not seeming to notice Gaara's bloody hands and aching stance. Two sharp, clipped fingernails snatch his ear and pinch, drawing blood.
"I-But you said Temare was to hunt for us, toni-" He was cut off by a swift, efficient slap that sent him to the rocky path.
"Bastard, you dare insult me with your stupid complaints of my kindness? Get out, away! Go hunt right now, if you bring back nothing, the rod will greet you." She warned, her jaw clenched to the point of breaking. Gaara scrambled away, biting his lip like a deranged…uhhh..wtf?( deranged wtf….wtf?)… And limped to the town square, ignoring the dust and headache that pulled him, resolutely and impertinent, to the near ground that he dragged over. He licked the metallic blood coursing from his hands, blisters on his feet, mouth and head, the taste calming and rejuvenating him.
"It doesn't seem right, mother," He informed the sky, dominated by dirt and sand that clouded over it.
"All the nice people go to heaven."
It means 'God' in Japanese…
DX, ugh. Wreakhavoc just lost her brain and couldn't find it for a few moments, fear not... It should return by the end of break...XP
EARLY HAPPY VALENTINES DAY! ESPECIELLY TO: ALLE K. ( TURN YOUR CELL ON, BRAT!), ANGSTY TIGER, AND ALL MY FAITHFULL REVIEWERS!!!! I LOVE YOU GUYS SOOOO MUCH!
P.S. The computer has been reverted to an older setting by my uncle, due to a virus. It might take a while to get anything up. Its on text edit right now, which sucks, thank you veray much! Ill get word back! IF ITS THE LAST THING I DO!!!!!!!!!!
