Panic here. This won't be a drabble nor a list of One-Shots. It will actually be a story! Isn't it great?! I can just feel your enthusiasm reverberating through the speakers. It's seriously rumbling through my computer right now as I type. I'm just so overjoyed! (Looks around and cries slightly.) Why aren't you enthused?!

Summary: Because when it comes down to it, Sakura always chooses the worst ones.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. Nor do I pwn him.

The truth is always hard to swallow. A bile medicine slowly sliding down your throat, clogging your senses until you can't possibly breath correctly. It stays in the pit of your stomach, filled up to the brim a sense of doubt and a loss of self confidence. The gooey substance sticks to the inside of the ribcage, clinging on hopelessly to your worn out heart, slowly gagging you, until it's sloshing around in the hollow pit of your stomach, and it's appalling, and it's revolting, and it's too much-

and you start drowning in a pool of contaminated water. All the while, it festers there, slowly decaying, leaving you withering in agony.

And sometimes, I wish I could take it back. I wish I would have stayed in my comfort zone, my sense of security, my little padded cell. I wish I wouldn't have searched for it, pushed and prodded until the stories slowly unraveled to reveal lies. Hurtful, false statements that are cover ups of something far greater than what anyone could have possibly imagined.

Thinking back on it, I probably knew all along. Sure, I didn't know that it would go to this extent, but I knew something wasn't right. From the moment he cancelled our dinner plans, I grew suspicious. After the third decline and the desperate pleas that something came up and I'll make it next time, I knew that something was stirring in the calm atmosphere I so desperately tried to conjure. Something was lurking in the shadows, just outside the soft spotlight called ignorance, and prowling along the edges and into the depths of realization.

I wasn't ready for it to ruin the warm glow around me. Nothing could ruin this moment, this happiness, this bliss. And yet, it sat there. Eyes wild and hungry, craving a decent spirit and waiting to pounce on the next unsuspecting victim that walked by. Twitching in anticipation, ready to tear the happy soul to shreds and devour the illusion of calm, just to be replaced with hopelessness, confusion, and utter anguish.

The strong sense of foreboding the day before just wouldn't leave me. It swirled around me in a thick fog, causing me to choke on the revolting gas. My mind was in a haze as if I had been drugged. Maybe I had, I honestly don't know. Knowing what I know now, I wouldn't put it past him. His innocent facade and cheeky grin caught me and pulled me in, clutching at my furiously beating heart and blushing cheeks. I didn't even know what hit me until after he skipped away merrily, free of charge, free of repercussions.

And here I sit, back against the freezing concrete wall, legs splayed carelessly on the grimy floor. Why keep up your appearance when the only people in this dull cell are hostile, bitter criminals that have no feelings whatsoever? They could murder someone without even feeling a thing, while framing someone completely innocent. Which is exactly how I ended up in this predicament, slumped in a cold, damp cell, pittying myself entirely, when I really don't have the right. It was my own fault by not seeing through his act. I've never been good at observing the minor details. And since everything seemed so wonderful, so perfect, so too good to be true, I should have realized that it was.

With my mouth set in a grim line and my brows furrowed, I look up, only to quickly force my head back down. Gazing at me from across the room was a tall, burly man, who looked more like a sturdy brick wall than anything. A tattoo of a blazing skull with a snake twisted around it could clearly be seen, shining from his massive bicep.

A low growl rumbled deep within his throat, and the sound of feet scraping the concrete echoed across the bare cell. I froze in fear, and my eyes, wide with horror, followed his feet that slowly inched toward me. A dark shadow loomed over my small, petrified form. For a brief, terrifying moment, all he did was stare at me. It felt like a hole was slowly being burned into my forehead from his tremendous glare. Then, a gruff, scratchy voice, full of malice and disgust, filled the room.

"What're you starin' at, princess?"

He spat my newly received nickname as if it were some type of disease. I winced, shutting my eyes tightly, then opening them again, praying it was a dream. His dirt ridden face popped into my view, and I gave off a sigh of defeat. It wasn't.

"Well?" He persisted, "You got anything ya want to say to me before I pound the livin' crap out of ya?"

I squeaked in surprise, then bashfully hung my head in shame, chiding myself that I shouldn't let my emotions show. A mocking chuckle filled the room, only to be cut short from surprise when another husky voice chimed in.

"Leave the kid alone, she didn't do nothin' to you. 's just scared, that's all."

I looked up in amazement, wondering who had just stood up for my sorry self. And then, there was the third voice, leaning against the wall in all his glory. Dark, unruly bangs hung low to reach his chiseled jaw. Obsidian orbs gazed back at me with a sense of amusement. His shirt hung off of his lean form like an enlarged pillowcase, most possibly from the slosh they call meals here. An arrogant smirk lit up his pale features, and I felt color rise to my cheeks. The smirk was soon replaced with a mischievous grin, and I felt the need to bash my head in.

Out of all of the kinds of guys in the world, why do I always fall for the devious ones?

I could go a few routes with this story. I'll probably still go with what I intended to, but it won't just be him showing up in the jail. (Grins maliciously) You'll just have to wait and see. Reviews are always welcome.

Panic