Concepts of Reality, a naruto fanfic

A good friend of mine and I were discussing the delicate topic of insanity, and I was thinking that if I was Sasuke, I believe I would be way out of my mind insane.

Welcome to a visual of Sasuke's mind.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Naruto or any of its characters – they belong to Masashi Kishimoto.

concepts of reality.

by: x the sleeping insomniac

There was nothing more in the entire universe, nothing in existence that Uchiha Sasuke would've liked more than to go back in time. Nothing.

White walls. White linoleum. White sheets. White pillows. White skin. White lights. White lies.

Sasuke's jaw clenched, and he struggled against his restraints, his eyes absolutely burning with the white that surrounding him, fueling his headache, fueling his hallucinations. He tossed and turned, arms and legs held down by straps that were determined to never let go. His fruitless attempts to escape the straps, not to get away, but just to feel that feeling of not being held down, left him exhausted, and his head fell back against the stark white pillow with heavy breaths in his lungs, jet black hair the complete contrast against the ashen room. Why was he always left struggling for his life? Why did anything in his life have to happen at all? If everyone had just told him the truth instead of lying to him, he'd be fine. Well, perhaps fine was a little bit of an exaggeration, he thought with a chuckle, but he would be better than he was now.

For example, if Itachi had told him the truth, he wouldn't be dead right now. Dead at Sasuke's hands, no less.

If Madara had told him the truth, he wouldn't have been in that goddamn white room, fighting insanity and pleading for a sliver of hope from whoever was listening.

If Naruto had told him the truth before that rigged battle, he wouldn't . . . well he would be dead, or Naruto would be dead, or the both of them, but either way, he wouldn't be in that goddamn white room, dying to get out and breathe real air.

If he had told himself the truth, well everything that he had already thought of would've happened. Including being in that motherfucking goddamn white room.

He felt sudden anger shoot through him, and he thrashed against the straps again, desperately trying to tear the leather. How was something so flimsy so hard to rip? He let out a cry of fury and frustration, throwing his head back against the pillow again. He wasn't insane, he was angry. There was a significant difference. Didn't these Konoha bastards see that? He killed his brother out of some stupid misunderstanding, the last member of his clan lied to him, convinced him to go against his own village, what was he supposed to do? Shrug it off like it was no big deal? Surely even Konoha didn't think he was that insane.

Footsteps. Sasuke lifted his head and looked at the door across from his bed. In the small window, he saw a few figures moving about in front of the door in front of his cell. A few seconds later, the door slid open with a large, metallic bang, three women striding in. The first one was his regular nurse, Seiyuri, a young woman with long, black hair that was pulled into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, rebel bangs falling into her face. Sasuke hated looking at her, she reminded him of Itachi. He looked away from her, noticing another young woman he hadn't seen before. She was the most plain looking person he had ever seen, with boring, straight, mouse-brown hair and eyes.

And then he saw Sakura.

She looked the same as he had seen her last time. She always came in with the other nurses, but she never did anything except stand in the corner and look concerned. And all Sasuke did when she was there was glare at her with every ounce of hatred he could summon. He hated her pink hair, hated her green eyes, hated her pale skin, hated her stupid outfit, hated her voice, hated her pathetic looks she always had on her face, hated her tiny, slender hands. He hated every single thing about the kunoichi, looking at her made him want to heave up his breakfast. She was one of the ones who had put him in there, and now she just stood in the corner, watching him with this sadness that made him sick. God, he just hated her, so much. Why did she even bother? It was obvious she was dying inside from the way he looked at her, with such disgust. Why did she make herself suffer and concern herself with him? It was her own fault, she was doing it to herself, while Sasuke was stuck there, unable to do anything.

"Here, Sasuke, take this," it was Seiyuri talking to him, beckoning him to swallow a couple of pills. His eyes turned to her, and he was horrified that she was just so calm. Did she know who he was? Did she know what he had done? How could this idiot possibly look at him straight in the face and smile?

He shot his head forward and snapped his teeth down on her outstretched fingers. She let out a scream, dropped the pills and pulled her hands back. Splashes of crimson blood dotted the white sheets, the white linoleum floor.

Seiyuri recoiled completely, holding her bloody, half-bitten off fingers. Sasuke was struggling against the leather straps again, feeling like he could move a little more than he had before. "Seiyuri, go get that treated, Izumi, you go with her, bring towels and try to stop that bleeding," Sakura was saying, moving forward, towards Sasuke. The Uchiha let out a furious snarl at the pink-haired medic, and she looked startled at first, but the shook the expression from her face. Her hands pushed him back against the pillow, and no matter how much Sasuke struggled, he couldn't break away from her grip – she was too strong and he didn't have enough room to move away. "Sasuke, stop!" she cried, pushing down harder on his shoulders when he refused to cease his struggling. "Sasuke!"

He stopped. His eyes met hers, his coal black pupils filled with hatred and blood-lust and everything that Sakura didn't want to see in them. Her eyes were filled with fear and sadness. "I hate you," he whispered, his voice so full of venom that Sakura swore she could almost feel the poison in her veins.

Slowly, her eyes slid shut, and a single tear rolled down her pale cheek. "Sasuke . . . what happened to you?" she asked, her voice barely over a whisper.

How did anyone declared as mentally insane even begin to answer that question?

Then Sakura opened her eyes again, and replacing the two green orbs were the Sharingan, gleaning down maliciously at him, Sakura's short pink hair extending and darkening.

"I-Itachi . . .?" Sasuke breathed, eyes widening in horror. He blinked, and the image before him faded a little. He squeezed his eyes shut, fell back against the pillow, and waited. He counted to three hundred before he opened his eyes again, and when he did, he was surrounded by white. White walls. White linoleum. White sheets. White pillows. White skin. White lights. White lies. He looked besides him, where Sakura and then Itachi had been, but there was no one. He looked to the other side, where a small pool of blood should have gathered on the floor and on his bed sheets, but there was nothing. He threw his head back against the pillow and screamed in anger.

He hated it in that goddamn white room. Every minute.

How Uchiha Sasuke wished he could go back in time . . .

I figured a nice, short story would be nice as my first submission.

In case anyone is confused, (considering it's rather hard to explain complicated ordeals when in the mind of an insane person,) this takes place after the epic battle between Naruto and Sasuke that has yet to happen, in which Naruto cheats in some unimportant manner to trick Sasuke and bring him back to the village, where he is then admitted to the mental hospital.

~anyway, auf Wiedersehen. :3