Desperation

Feb. 24 - "I cannot read and therefore wish all books burned"

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

A six-year old Gaara beat up the covers on his bed, furiously flailing his arms and legs about. Sleep! It was all he could think about.

He turned over and grabbed his pillow, then threw it across the room at the wall, pouting childishly.

Angry tears sprout at the edges of his eyes, blurring his vision - this wasn't fair! His head hurt, he was seeing all sorts of scary things and that stupid thing in his head wouldn't "SHUT UP!"

"Jeez kid, do you have to be so loud?" Shukaku growled, "If you'd just kill someone, I'd leave you alone."

"Shut up," Gaara muttered, "I already told you I'm not going to do that."

Within his mind, Shukaku growled once more, then started raging at him, screaming and exacerbating his already throbbing head. Gaara bent over, clutching his head, tears leaking out of his bloodshot eyes, "Stop, stop, stop, please," he pleaded, whimpering softly.

Shukaku paused for a moment to say, "You know what you have to do" before starting his torture once more.

Desperate for a moment's relief, the child climbed down from the bed and rushed out of the room, grabbing his gourd and dragging it behind him. He tip-toed past his uncle's room, then made his way quickly through the large house over to where his brother and sister slept.

He found himself in the corridor with their rooms and paused, looking from one door to the other, trying to figure out which one to enter. He didn't really want to hurt either of them but he couldn't take this pain any longer and if hurting them would make it stop, even for just a night, then...

"Hurry up, kid, what are you waiting for?" Shukaku said, his glee manifested in his voice.

Already the pain was ebbing and encouraged by that, Gaara entered the closer room - Kankurou's. Light from the full moon fell right across the bed and illuminated Kankurou's face and as Gaara saw his brother's relaxed, smiling expression, something in him snapped and his chest burned with anger at the injustice of it all.

Immediately, the sand around him rose and snaked towards the older boy, then begun to wind around his body, sheets and all. Gaara didn't know if it was the feel of the sand or the sound or both but Kankurou's eyes flew open and his expression instantly became terror-stricken as he saw the sand surrounding him.

The eight year old turned wide, frightened eyes on his little brother and immediately started to scream loudly, calling for his sister, his father, anyone. Gaara clutched his head once again - the screaming was making his head-ache worse - and covered his brother's mouth with sand to stop the infernal noise.

Kankurou was covered in sand now and Gaara raised his hand, ready to squeeze, squeeze, squeeze the life from him. His mind was finally quiet now as Shukaku held his tongue, fearful of saying anything that would cause his young host to stop or even pause. Before he could begin closing his outstretched fingers into a fist however, a warm, calloused hand closed over his.

"Gaara, don't hurt him. Please," Temari whispered, pleading, eyes wide and holding as much fear as Kankurou's.

Gaara blinked and relaxed his fingers, still staring into his sister's green eyes, mesmerized by the green so much darker than his own. There was something in those eyes, something past all of the fear that he found calming. Immediately the sand started to withdraw from around his brother's body and reform into his gourd.

Kankurou sat up, taking big, heaving gulps of air and Temari let go of Gaara and rushed over to him, breathing out a sigh of relief in the process. She climbed up onto the bed, then threw her arms around him and pulled him to her.

Gaara watched them and the perpetual pain in his heart intensified. Eyes watering because of a different pain now, he turned and walked out of the room, then started back to his own room in his own wing, returning to his solitude and to Shukaku's torture - worse now because of what had almost happened.

There was only one thought with which he could console himself - at least he wouldn't be the only one not getting any sleep tonight.

A/N: Could this really have happened? I'm not sure. Inspired by a VERY CREEPY short story be Joyce Carol Oates.