I remember when I was younger.
I remember.
Whenever I hear his voice in my head, and see his face in the back of my once naïve mind.
I remember.
I don't want to remember.
I don't. I don't. I don't.
But sill, I do.
I see that face.
His face that had always had that look of premature age.
I remember his face.
That same pale face.
Expressionless.
But what I remember most? His eyes.
I remember.
Black as charcoal.
Then red. Like a flame.
His Sharingan.
Mangekyu Sharingan.
Then I remember pain.
He let that one shuriken fly.
And he made me bleed.
Only my shoulder was hurt.
I hadn't lost too much blood.
But still I bled.
I bled.
And I died.
That night.
I walked and ate, and I breathed the air around me.
But I was dead.
Inside.
And I grew up. After that.
Quickly.
I matured.
And I left my naïve little childhood behind.
Too fast.
I grew up.
Too fast. Like he had.
They were all dead.
And I was alone.
Alone.
But I had to survive.
Only one reason.
That night.
Red eyes. Like blood.
Cold-hearted eyes.
Eyes that hated.
Eyes that scorned.
Eyes that refused.
Eyes that didn't seem to give a damn.
Eyes that loved no more.
Loved no more…
And I ask why?
Why?
Tell me why?
Don't fuck with me!
Tell me!
But no answer was good enough.
Not anymore.
No reason could justify what he had done.
Nothing could make it right.
And
then he left.
Good. Leave.
Never come back. Don't.
Ever.
Come.
Back.
EVER.
I hate him.
He knows that though.
I need to get revenge.
I need to get strengh.
I need power.
Even if I have to sell my soul to the devil.
But maybe….
What I need the most…
Is him…