My Obsession, My Possession
~Prologue~
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I looked out the window, foggy and damp as the mist descended from the sky, blanketing the city streets. Moisture clung to the outside of the glass, cooling it against my forehead. The buildings sped by as we drove in the midst of traffic; the early morning smog reflected the grey clouds that hung drearily overhead.
Light rain drizzled and splashed against the pavement and the windows of the car as we continued to drive, and I pressed my face harder against the cold, wet glass. Raindrops flew by and I watched them with disdain, grudgingly reminding myself of the similar weather on the day, six years ago, when my entire life changed course.
The day I came home late from school, and found the corpses of my parents waiting for me.
I remember the paramedics carrying their bodies away, as a policeman apprehended me to stop me from entering the grotesque kitchen where the murder happened.
They were shot, the policeman said, and every criminal in Tokyo is a suspect.
My father had been the Superintendant General of the Tokyo Police Department. He was the overseer of every PD station in the city. Since he had become the General, the police force had gained an iron grip on the crime that littered Tokyo's streets.
He was a target.
And a prime suspect was impossible to find.
I was ten years old when I was sent to live with Kakashi. He was a friend of my mother's, and she had it written that she wanted him to be Itachi and I's guardian should anything ever happen.
But Kakashi never became Itachi's guardian. Because Itachi was never found.
The only thing the police force could deduce from the crime scene was that Itachi was indeed home at the time of murder.
And that someone had taken him.
It never occurred to any of us, not even the greatest detectives on the case, that the fifteen-year-old son of the Superintendant General was the murderer.
Of course not. Itachi was a prodigy. His brilliance was coveted.
But when months turned to years and still there wasn't so much as a sign of finding him, they closed the case. Itachi was declared most likely dead.
When they told me that, it killed me. But after six years I had learned to cope. Kakashi had helped me, and with the support of all the antidepressants at my disposal… life had regained a certain calm that I had long since forgotten.
Eventually, I didn't even need grief counselling anymore. With the past behind, my days consisted of high school, Naruto and Sakura, and the peaceful home life I shared with Kakashi.
I was content to think it would always stay like this.
But I was wrong.
I was wrong about a lot of things.
The car stopped when we pulled into a familiar gravel driveway. The white house I recognized so well looked a bleak grey as rain fell on it violently, and the windows were dark from the lack of light inside the house.
I was home.
Months had passed, but I was home.
Kakashi parked the car and began to exit the vehicle, but I didn't move from my seat in the back. Naruto, who hadn't left my side since yesterday, placed a hand on my shoulder from the seat beside me.
Despite how much I wanted to run inside, and collapse on the bed I had so gravely missed, fatigue and exhaustion were sewn into my muscles. I stayed motionless, staring blankly at the foreboding front door, waiting.
Waiting for my mind to convince me that it wasn't a dream this time. That I was really home, at last. And that I wouldn't wake up in a moment to that dreadful place; that room with no windows and only a single door that he always kept locked. My prison.
But my mind never succeeded in relieving my fears, and my body tensed. Digging my nails into the flesh of my legs, I hunched forward slightly, tapping my foot restlessly against the car floor. Naruto, instantly noticing my mini panic-attack, called my name in a gentle voice that brought me back to the current moment.
I looked up at him, slowly. He was smiling. And the next thing I knew, he was leaning over and unbuckling my seatbelt. I let him. But when his fingers brushed, accidently, against the waistband of my sweatpants I jerked, and pressed myself against the window again.
Hurt, but understanding, Naruto slowly exited the car and waited as I did the same. Kakashi stood at the front door, watching us carefully. I followed Naruto up the little stone path that led to the front steps, each step becoming slower and heavier.
I kept my gaze fixated on the ground, until at last I had reached the top stair and my eyes were met with the bottom of the doorframe. The door was open, and inside, Naruto was taking off his shoes, and Kakashi was placing his keys on the kitchen table and hanging up his scarf.
Unbeknownst to them, my eyes brimmed with tears, and my throat clenched painfully shut. I felt my face heat up and released a shuddering breath, looking in on my sanctuary at last.
Four months ago I left this house on an early Thursday morning, thinking it was just going to be an ordinary day.
And this was my first time coming home since that morning.
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