Authors notes:This is more of an over-done drabble than anything but it still came out really good... At least in my opinion. I don't think Orochimaru was always a sadistic, murderous, evil person. I think something must have made him that way and I felt like writting about what an average day must be like for him when he was a child.
Warning/Disclaimer:Oro doesn't belong to me. Just this drabble. Angsty. Blah, blah, blah...
The pouting, whining, and cheering was all too familiar a situation. One particularly unfortunate student was pounding his head against his desk, mumbling incomprehensibly. It was a normal occurrence in the small classroom. Report card day.
For most it meant either one of of two things. It could mean success and happy parents. Rewards, gratitude, praise. For others it meant misery. Angry parents and disappointment.
For me it meant neither. I wish it did. I would give anything for it. I would love nothing more than to get horrible grades and have my parents scold me. Just having them there at all would be the best thing I could possibly imagine...
I shook the thoughts from my head, though, as the sensei walked over and handed me a folded piece of paper. The smile on his face was all too familiar. I had done well... again. Flipping it open I found that I was to top of the class... again.
Most kids would kill to be in my position. Most students would be overjoyed at the sight of anything near as good as my report card.
I couldn't care less.
For me, report card day was one of the worst days of the month. It just reminded me of my parents... The ones I no longer had.
The parents I would never get the chance to see again. Ever.
The sensei dismissed us, and told everyone to head home. I got up slowly, walking to the door at a normal pace. My long black hair hung over my face, much like a shroud, shielding me from the world. Shielding the world from me. It didn't deserve this much misery. Nothing did...
As I walked outside I saw many families together. Some parents yelling harshly at their child, disappointed in the scores they earned. Some parents hugging their children and making celebration plans. The cloudy sky was the only thing keeping the scene from looking like something out of a movie. A scene from some peaceful little show where everything is happy and perfect.
I turned my head away from it all, and headed down the, for the most part, uninhabited street that lead to my home. I hated walking home. It was so solitary. The streets never had many people. When people did show up I didn't even earn a passing glance. I might as well have been invisible. Not even there. After all, who cared for some odd looking child walking home alone?
A few drops of rain hit the top of my head and my shoulders, but I didn't think much of it. It's not like it mattered. So what if I got a bit wet walking home? The rain was nice company anyways. The quiet whispers that could be heard amongst the sounds of rain drops. The comforting splash of water as you walk through a puddle. In fact I rather enjoyed these quiet little rain showers. They weren't to harsh, just peaceful. Comforting.
As I walked into the front door of my home I could feel the emptiness radiating from it. It permeated the air like a terrible stench. Engulfing the entire residence.
This wasn't home. This was just some house. This could never be a real home. A real home is a place you can go to escape, a sanctuary. A place you lived and coexisted with your family. A place for joy.
This wasn't a home. This was a tomb. It was a place of misery and solitude. A place of anguish...
I slipped my sandals off and headed up the stairs. They seemed to creek, and moan out like dead souls with every step I took. As though just being there was disturbing their morbid slumber.
The upstairs hallway was dark, gloomy. The air drifting through was as cold as ice, and the walls seeming to close in around me. I walked right past the door to my own room. That isn't where I wanted to go today.
I headed for the room at the end of the hallway. My parents room. As far as I was concerned it was still theirs. It always had been, and always would be.
I pushed the door open slowly, ignoring the hideous creaking sound it made. I walked over to the large, neatly-made bed, and laid down on it lazily. Squeezing my eyes tight I tried to imagine what it used to be like in here, back when my parents stayed here. Mother always yelling at father about not making the bed correctly. The sun shining in through the window. Laundry and scrolls scattered about the room lazily. I always used to complain about how messy it was, and that it was impossible to walk though the room without tripping over something. I miss it like that.
"I got top of my class again, mother," I said quietly, under my breath,"I wish you and father could see it. You would be proud of me, wouldn't you? You always did like seeing me train. You said I was just like father, a natural born genius..." I trailed of quietly, eventually stopping all together.
I could pretend all I wanted. The reality still seeped in, eating away at any happiness I could conger up. Destroying the illusion of joy. The walls seemed to creak and moan in lonely agony. The emptiness permeated the air, and made the room seem that much more miserable. Heart crushing despair seemingly dominating over everything.
Eventually I'll fall asleep. I always do. The dreaming will block out the reality, and I might finally be over report-card day.