Title: The first cut

Rating: Pg 15 at the very least

Pairing / characters: Uzumaki Naruto

Word count: 421 words

Warnings: Suicidal themes, cutting, depression

Summary: Naruto cuts to escape from his own pain

A/N: Don't read if this is offensive!!! I've had this idea in my mind for a while now, and I thought I would just put it out there. I've tried to make is as non-offensive as possible, because I know cutting is a real problem, in fact, I know someone who cuts. For more information about cutting, there's this website: (keyword search: cutting)

sigh if only it was this easy to get into the heads of my final fantasy characters… anyone out there with background / info for Zack, Cloud, and Sephiroth… drop me a line!!!!!!

I pick up the kunai in my left hand and hold it above my wrist. The tip wavers slightly, but I tighten my grip on the handle and it steadies. I'm not afraid of the pain, as a shinobi it comes with the territory.

I've done this before, and it's always the same.

I've never told anyone about this, not Kakashi-sensei, or Iruka-sensei, not anyone, not ever. I don't care if they know, its not like they can do anything about it. Sometimes… sometimes, I just need to escape. The pain helps, but only for a little while. The first cut is the hardest to make, but after that, it gets easier. It hurts of course, but then even the pain goes away and I have to cut harder, faster, deeper.

I could never take my own life, the nine tails would never allow it.

After all, he heals me even as the wounds form.

I hate for that, just as I hate him for all of this – I suffer so much, and none of it is my fault.

All the teasing… all the hatred… never having my own family…never being loved, or cared for, or wanted or accepted… if I could have died years ago, I would have. Back then, I would never have tried to take my life, the thought would never have occurred to me. Now, I know I wouldn't – and it's not because I don't have the courage, but because I can't kill myself. I'm pretty sure I can almost die, but I've never actually tried it. I don't really want to die, I just want to escape from their eyes, from the mocking… from everything.

I lower the blade slowly. The sharp edge glints in the light, and as I turn the blade, I see my reflection in it. With a quick, smooth movement, I lower the kunai the rest of the way and drag it down my wrist. The tip bites deep, my skin parts smoothly, and a thin line of blood wells up in the wake of the kunai. Once, twice, three times, five times, I repeat the procedure, watching each cut heal before I make the next one.

By the time I am done, the skin of my arm is still healing, and I know there won't be a scratch on me by the time I leave the house.

Damn him. Damn everything.

Getting to my feet, I throw the kunai against the wall and walk out of the bathroom without looking back.

Would anyone care if I should stumble,

Would god be watching as I fall?

If I have regrets for a wasted life,

Would anyone else give a damn at all?

-L.S