Summary: Sakura is captured by Kabuto during one of the many missions attempting to capture Sasuke. Orochimaru decides to make use of her to train Sasuke further. Kabuto eventually feels sorry for the girl and lets her go. But what will she do when she hasn't been out in the real world for three years?
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto n' stuff, kaythanx.
WARNING: If you do not like torture, violence and gore, you shouldn't read this!
Chapter 1: Breaking In
Tick, tock. Tick, tock. It wouldn't stop. It would drive her crazy, this noise. Once, it would have made her fall into a deep, mindless sleep. Now it was as if the noise was hammering at her skull, much like the water was on her forehead.
"Stop it," she mumbled, clenching her fingers as tight as she could. She didn't even bother moving her head anymore. Her neck was too tired with the strain of trying to do so for countless hours.
Or had it been days? Perhaps even years? It felt like years. She felt old. Her bones felt frail in their shackles, her breathing ragged. When was the last time she had a drink? Did the excess water falling lazily into her sand-papery mouth count?
"Please," she pleaded weakly, scraping her bloodied nails on the cold stone slab she was strapped to.
She heard a shuffling noise in the corner of the damp room. She almost screamed in frustration at the fact that she couldn't look over to see who- or what- had made said noise.
Suddenly, she sensed a presence over her. Then the dripping stopped. It stopped! She would have whooped in joy if a pounding headache hadn't followed the dripping's departure.
The shuffling noise continued, only closer to her. She suspected it was the person who stopped the water. She wondered who they were. Was it male? Female? Perhaps it was both. There was no telling where she was.
"What are you?" she asked suddenly.
"What a peculiar question that is," answered a deep, masculine voice. It was smooth, velvety. Like a snake. She recognized it, though she could not place it.
She waited silently, wondering if the person would answer her. She waited a few more seconds before repeating her question.
"I am... your doctor," the person answered hesitantly.
"I need a doctor?" she asked, confused.
"Yes. It would seem that you are confused," the person provided, voice coaxing her mind.
"Oh," she said. Oh. Oh. That's right. She was confused. She needed medical help. She was hurt, too. She figured the person would know.
"You seem familiar," she said hesitantly.
"...It would seem you are still confused."
She felt a hand slide up her thigh, slowly, steady. She shivered. It felt good. She wished she could lean into the touch.
Suddenly, the pressure on her leg increased. It was starting to hurt, this pressure. Something scratched the soft velvet of her thigh- a nail, probably. The nail slowly dug into her skin, slicing it open. She allowed herself a small gasp or surprise as the hand cut along her thigh and down to her knee. She felt her warm blood trail lazily down her leg. It was quickly mopped up by a warm, long tongue. She squirmed as much as her shackles would allow, biting her lip to prevent herself from crying out. She vaguely felt the small tickle of silky hair on her leg as well, aggravating her body to the extreme. She felt as if she had to scratch and clutch her leg at the same time. The tongue, pointed at the end, touched her cut tentatively, probing. Then it wriggled itself inside the wound, digging deep into her leg. This time, she could not help but scream out. The rough tongue was lapping up her blood, turning the once minor cut into a deep gash. Her blood was now flowing freely from her leg. She was starting to experience a pricking feeling all over her leg, probably from blood loss. It felt like millions of needles were pressing into her leg, giving her a tattoo that dug deep into the muscle.
Then, the feeling of a real needle pressed into her skin. Slowly, her leg was sewn shut, closing up the gash on her leg.
Time lost all meaning to her as the needle probed her leg. She nearly gagged when she felt the string pull her skin together in grotesque stitches. Warm, salty tears escaped her eyes. She had never felt such pain in her life. Was this even life? Or did she die and somehow end up in hell?
"If this is hell, you've made a mistake," she sobbed. "I... I..."
The needle jabbed her muscle, and she stopped talking in favour of screeching bloody murder.
She awoke to find her leg throbbing dully. Again, she heard the same feet walking lazily inside the room.
"What is your name?" the person asked, somehow aware that she had regained conscience.
"I... My name is..."
"It starts with an 'S'," the person provided warmly. She nearly believed it was sincere.
Sincere. Kind. Warm. Like her name. Her name was warm, she knew. It was like spring. It started with an S...
"Sakura! My name is Sakura!" she replied happily, glad that she was able to answer the person's question. He wouldn't have to punish her now!
"That's right. Do you know who I am?" the person asked, face suddenly looming over hers. His cold yellow eyes examined her emerald eyes coolly as she took in as much of his face as possible.
She raked her mind as much as possible to provide an answer, trying to think of who had that same black hair and white, ghostly complexion. No matter how hard she tried, she could not recall. She opened her mouth but nothing came out.
The person- a man, she could see now- smiled evilly. Her eyes widened in fear. She couldn't answer his question! He was going to hurt her! Danger! Danger!
"You are..."
He opened his mouth to imitate her mouth's movement, no sound escaping his lips. His lips were coming together, pursing as if to say...
"...my..."
Again, with the lip movement! Like with "my", it moved to form...
"...master."
Her 'master' flashed his teeth triumphantly. She could see that his canine teeth were abnormally long.
"That's right, Sakura. I am Orochimaru, your master. You are my slave, and you will do whatever I say."
She stared at him speechlessly.
Suddenly, without warning, he lashed out at her, stabbing her in the hip with a thick blade. She screamed in pain.
"You will answer me when I speak to you!" he bellowed, twisting the knife. Blood spurted from her leg as it squelched and tore in protest. She screamed again, an inhuman 'yes' somehow making its way out past her lips.
"Good," he said, pleased. He pulled the knife away quickly, blood flinging off of the knife and onto his face. He licked the salty crimson treat off of his face before continuing to break in his slave.
Pain. She was in pain. She was pain, and pain was she. No! She was Sakura. She had to remember that. Orochimaru-sama had called her that, and so that was she. She was merely in pain. Pain went away. Names did not. She could bear this, because it would end.
But it seemed to not ever end. She was fed pain for breakfast, lunch and dinner. She had snacks of pain and when she was feeling bored pain was there to keep her occupied. She was still in pain, but right now it was only a dull hum of pain. That meant that she was supposed to be recovering. Recovery meant pain.
She needed to stop thinking these morbid thoughts! She needed to think of something that would keep her more occupied than the cuts and bruises decorating her naked body. She needed to think of... flowers! Yes, flowers! Like her name. Flowers were pretty. Sakura enjoyed flowers. In fact, she could remember picking flowers. She used to arrange them when she was a kid with her best friend-
A high-pitched wailing sound startled her out of her happy slumbour. It came from all around her, making her feel as if she was being crushed by the noise. She felt as if her ears were about to pop in protest. All of her previous happy thoughts high-tailed it out the nonexistent cracks of the door while Sakura's scream battled with the screech, the room pushing the sound waves back at the tortured soul strapped to the stone slab.
"Hello," Orochimaru greeted Sakura calmly.
"Hello, Orochimaru-sama," she responded instantly, respectfully.
"I think it is time for your training to start," Orochimaru said to the woman sitting perfectly on the uncomfortable wooden chair in her assigned room.
"Yes, Orochimaru-sama."
Aah, so I leave Chapter 1 with a cliff-hanger. This is my first time posting something to fanfiction, so please give me any and all constructive criticism that may be gracing your mind. I don't mind if it's mean- what hurts you only makes you stronger, right? I'd like at least one or two reviews to let me know if I should continue this or not.
-nilov