A/N: Review or whatever you want to do. This is here because of something that happened to me very recently. You could say that this is based on a true story, the story of my life. I'd also like to say Happy Birthday to Sakura Haruno because today, March 28, 2008, is her birthday! This is not a very happy story, but this is in tribute to her life, which is somewhat like mine, but not really. I hope you read this (and like it!). Oh yeah, and this sort, kinda, doesn't really have ANYTHING to do with Sakura, but you could just imagine it as Sakura saying it or whatever. Use your imagination.
Warnings: Language; AU
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I don't own Sakura, but this is based on MY true story.
I'm Sorry
I slipped out a single tear; it lined my face, leaving a trail of moist feelings, tingling with spite, doubt, but most especially, fear. My best friend texted me back. I loved him in secret, but what does he know? He only sees me as a close friend, nothing more. But no matter what, girlfriend or not, he is always there for me, and I love him, still.
But even with all the love in the world, I just couldn't listen to his pleas. It was cries of distress and pain that I could comprehend beyond limit. I told him I had to go. He knew what I was talking about; he knew that morning of that day. My arm was wrapped up, a slight bruise blessing my cheekbone, and my eyes, they were like empty pools of void emotion. I had changed, and he did not like it, but nonetheless, he was there to support me.
He gave me a hug at the end of the school day. I smiled with a bittersweet smirk. I felt eyes pierce my back; his girlfriend. The hour later, I got a text that I better get the hell off of him… or else. Heh. Or else. What does that mean? What is the worse that that whore could do to me? I was facing so much back home that it wouldn't matter anyway. I was used to the pain, both physically and emotionally. However, despite the cries of my heart, I backed off. I never told him of the text. My heart ached, but it made me smile to see him smile. It seemed to me that he forgot what happened the night before; it seemed to me that he forgot about me.
God, I'm getting off track. Let's get back.
I texted him, telling that I had to go meet some people, and he knew, right away. He said no and refused to just let me go. He didn't want me to hurt myself. It was like running into the pits of hell, the situation I was in. It was late at night, 10:30. I told him that I had to leave in ten minutes. He threw all he could at me to make me not go. 'Stay at home, don't hurt yourself, please.'
I took a deep breath in and reassured him that I'd be back in fifteen minutes. I swore that I'd text back at eleven.
I finally told him that I had to leave. He texted me to not. And I sent back a message; and it was the last of that night, and the day after, and the day after, and the day after.
X:O:X:O:X
It was like I was floating in darkness, complete hell. There was not a speck of hope, not one light in there to reassure me that it would be okay. My heart beat with burning aggressiveness. It beat so loud that my ears could not hear a word I said. I confronted them, my enemies, who would soon be my abusive friends. Where else was I to go? What else could I have done?
I stepped forward as a saw them approach. I still couldn't comprehend what was happening around me. I spoke, yet I didn't know what I said. My heart was still in a frenzy. Whatever I said pleased them. I saw the edges of their mouths tilt upward. That made me smirk, and my heart relaxed. I was able to calm myself down. But I still had to face the fact that I was alone with these people, in a lonely place, at a lonely time.
I felt myself floating again, and again, there was nothingness; just vast emptiness, lost hope, pure death. I heard glass shatter, but I guess it was only in my infinite world. But complete darkness left me when I felt someone grab my shoulders, pounding me against the rough, brick wall. It hurt my back, for I was simply wearing a thin tank top and dark grey sweater with black, loose sweatpants. My back scraped the cracks and edges of the not-so-smooth wall. I swear I felt scratches pierce through me. I didn't bleed though. Not yet.
I kept my eyes open, not trying to show fear to my predators. I was only a young child, faced with a tough decision. It was painful to hear glass break again, but this time, it was not in my empty world. It was real. But I couldn't smell anything. However, I heard a groan. I took a silent whiff, and metallic fragrance engorged my nostrils. Blood? Well, I looked down at my body, still being held by the leader. It wasn't me that was hit; it was another one, one of their own. He was already a member of their gang, and I looked down at his stomach. Lodged in it was the broken end of a bottle.
I mentally sighed, relieved that it wasn't me. But at the same time, I was worried, for I could be the next victim. He was still alive as two other minions dragged him out of my sight. Once again, I closed my eyes, relaxing myself from the painful sight of pain and blood. Yet, at the same time, I had a desire for it. I felt the need to smell its aroma, gaze at the sight, yearn for its taste. Was I really this… cold-hearted? No one knew it if I was. I was good at hiding things that I needed to.
I heard him whispering things in my ear. Yet again, I couldn't understand. It went along the lines of 'If you don't cooperate, you'll be like him.' He was referring to the guy he just recently stabbed. He kissed my cheek, but I would not allow him a passage to my lips. They were virgin; I had not yet had my first kiss. He continued to line my face with wet butterflies, slowly creeping down to my chin, then my neck, then lower and lower.
I could feel the lust-filled stares of the onlookers burning holes through me, just waiting for their leader to rip that flimsy shirt off of me. I could tell by their hazy eyes and their dry mouths that they were sensually undressing me with their eyes. I hated that. I wanted it to stop. What did I get myself into?
At the lining of my shirt, he stopped. I did not let out a whimper, nor a sigh. I was fearless as death could bring. I didn't know if I was going to die that night. I didn't know if that last text was the last chance I could've told him I loved him. But I didn't, so whatever happened, it was too late to try anyway.
He began to take my sweatshirt off, and I got scared. I started to shake, not only because of the cold, but because this… man was in front of me, bathing in my presence, naughty lust evident in his eyes. He began kissing me again, and still, I refused to let his invade my lips. I closed my eyes, turning my head every which way to make sure that he wouldn't be my first kiss.
He growled in my ear, and I floated in vast time and space of oblivion, yet again. I tried all I could do, even escape to my own little world. I was going crazy with anything but fear. Adrenaline rushed through me as I did something that surprised, even me! I whispered no. I denied my enemy, and for that, I must pay.
He ordered two others to hold me against that merciless wall. He balled his hand into a fist, striking me painfully. I crouched as low as my predecessors allowed me. I let out nothing but a bored sigh. I regained my posture, readying for yet another blow. He punched me across my face, causing me to bite the side of my cheek.
I got worried. What if I die tonight? Well, it wouldn't matter. If I did die, no one would grieve over the lost. There will be tears, but they will be of happiness; nothing else. Once again, I closed my eyes and opened them with a new viciousness in my eyes. I wasn't sure whether I looked vulnerable or threatening, but nonetheless, I stared straight into his dark jade eyes. His black hair opted his look. He sneered at me, as glass broke around me again. Small pieces cut my body, but nothing brutal happened. Thankfully, I gathered the strength to escape my arm, punching him square in the face.
My enemy growled as he punched me again in the stomach. This time, I didn't move; I just continued to gaze into his eyes, telepathically sending him death threats and quiet pleas. A small, yet sharp, piece lodged itself into my right thigh. I hissed, wincing at the pain. He laughed as I coughed out blood - my blood. I felt a warm liquid slide down my leg; it was my blood as well.
I floated in pain again, watching his back retreat from me, leaving me by myself, as the rest of his crew left me. My sweatshirt gathered around my ankles. That article of clothing was given to me by them. It was their property. His kisses marked me as their property. I slid down slowly, watching blood pool around me. I didn't cry. What was the point? No use in wasting tears. I'm sorry.
I left the alley, and my footsteps, though quiet, thundered through my ears. Before I knew it, I collapsed on my bed.
X:O:X:O:X
The next morning, my bed sheets were a complete red mess. I cleaned myself up, wrapping myself with bandages, all in the right places. The details of that night continued to ring vibrantly through the crevasses of my mind. It pierced me, deeply.
For that night, I died. I died, inside, I died. It wasn't my body that left me, but my soul. It's rather hard to comprehend, but I became the human without a soul. I was just a moving body. No one loved me, and I no longer loved anyone.
I let out a sigh that I've been holding in for who knows how long. I looked at my neck – marks. I looked at my arms – cuts and bruises. My face – I could just cover that with make-up. My thigh was the hardest, but I managed to cover it.
It didn't hurt me that I died that night, but what hurt me was how people say that I had such a great life. They don't know how lucky they are to not have the problems I have – an abusive family, lack of food, no one to love me. I had best friends, but they would choose whoever over me any day. I was just a body to them as well. They only stood by me because I was smart. They only stood by me because I was a girl that wasn't annoying. They don't think I'm a friend, but I think they are my friends. I don't care if they hate me. At least I had a purpose in living, and that is to be hated.
I went to school at 7:50 that morning, ten minutes later than usually. However, I was not late. After unpacking my things, I ran into the bathroom, tightening the bandages that were clumsily wrapped around my thigh. I ran through my friends, ignoring them completely. I heard them say 'good morning.' I let out a smile, but it was empty; yet a spark of hope flickered within me. I didn't respond to them as I ran back up the stairs.
That entire day, I faked my life. I faked my happiness, regarded my pain, and bit my lip when I felt it. No one noticed the grievance and weight that bore itself on my shoulders. It was bearable, for now.
Near the day's end, my other friend asked me why I wore this grey sweatshirt and where my other awesome sweatshirts were. I told her that I was forced to wear this grey thing. I told her that this sweatshirt was my life. She didn't understand, and I was glad.
I let out another smile, and this time it was real. I can only smile with true jubilation while seeing my best of friends happy. It made me feel like I was a part of this world. Yet, that didn't last for long. They were happy, therefore I was happy.
They will never see past the plastic smile glued on my lips.
Despite them being my best friends, they still have no clue what was going on behind the façade of my face.
I don't regret dying that night. I don't regret spilling blood on my behalf. But what I do regret is letting my soul leave to abruptly. I wanted to follow wherever it went. I wanted to leave the pain I called and still do call, life.
X:O:X:O:X
I recently realized that I never did text him back. But the last text that I did send him, was a simply pithy that meant a lot, but probably couldn't resurface to himself.
I'm Sorry. That was the message.
I'm Sorry. But he couldn't get that straight.
I'm Sorry. I distanced myself from him that day.
I'm Sorry. He continued to love his girlfriend.
I'm Sorry. No one asked me what was wrong.
I'm Sorry. Love was never meant for me.
I'm Sorry. That was the message that ended it all.
I'm Sorry. The last one for the day, the week, the month… forever.
An emotionless tear resurfaced on my face that day. It all ended there.
I've died.
And I'm sorry.
-x-
A/N: This might turn into some sort of 'real life chronicles' sort of things because I feel like I have to use this as a memorial to my best friends, Robert and Sam, who died because of me. They died because of these events that I've written down for you to read.
This is dedicated to Sam and Robert. I love you guys, and wherever you are, I pray that your story be heard.
