To whomever this may concern:

This is purely for informational purposes. You always told me that things would be better if I was gone. Well, now I am.

On Northwest 53rd street, sandwiched in-between Stewart's Books and Corner Thrift, is an underappreciated, but yet somehow still in business, café. A wind chime dangles above the doorway, clinking out its airy song over the sleepy early morning traffic. A sign in the unwashed window reads, Subtle Hints. Despite the hours the owners, now owner, spent dreaming up the perfect name, their hard work unfortunately didn't pay off. Business is never faster than slow, and there are a few days when nobody steps into the shop at all. Only the dedication of a few devoted regulars keeps the place afloat, but soon, even that might not be enough.

The door swings open and the chimes dance, as a teenage girl, no older than sixteen, slips inside. The barista glances up from her Rolling Stone issue and closes it with a sigh. Even though any customer is appreciated, she still hates to be dragged away from her precious reading time.

The arrival hangs near the entrance, shuffling from foot to foot. She has never entered this particular café before, but that isn't saying much. She hasn't been to a restaurant of any kind in nearly six months. Her pale pink hair is mussed from a wild dash down the street to make it to her meeting on time. The girl's cheeks are flushed to match her hair, not only from the running, but also from the embarrassment at realizing that the person she is coming to see hasn't shown up yet. She could be pretty, but the dark half moons under her eyes and sickly pallor of her face prevent that.

"What'll you have?" the barista says.

"Just the house blend," the girl sighs, and begins to fish in her coat pockets for loose ones.

"That'll be all?" the woman at the counter subtly offers. (This café was not named for no reason.)

"Yes," the girl says decisively, pushing a few bills across the counter.

The pair look up as the chimes announce another customer. A tall woman, nearly forty years old, with short, obviously dyed black hair breezes inside, her trench coat flapping out behind her. She nods at the girl, who attempts to smile in return. The older woman points at a muffin in the pastry case. "I'd like an iced chai, please, and that blueberry muffin."

"Those aren't good for you," the girl says, voice barely above a whisper.

"When I see you down one of these," the onyx-haired lady retorts, "I'll know that you're finally doing something good for you, Sakura."

Sakura shrinks back from her companion, and leaves her under the excuse to find them a table. She surveys the small room; it's barely large enough to fit the four tables and two worn, coffee stained burgundy armchairs nestled against the front windows. The chairs are the furthest away from the barista's prying ears, and so Sakura awkwardly perches on the edge of the cleaner of the two. She doesn't want to get too comfortable until she gets her coffee, lest she crash and sleep on the unfamiliar furniture. This teenager hasn't been sleeping well lately, and food, while it's been becoming more appealing lately, is still not her energy-rejuvenating friend like it is to most other people. The rehab and therapy has been helping, though.

The barista prepares the drinks, idly wondering why such an unlikely pair would be meeting in this under the radar café. Maybe the older one is the girl's mom, she thinks. The thought is quickly banished from her mind. The woman's eyes are a murky, dark brown, so dark that the barista originally thought they were black. The one with the pink hair's eyes would be a stunning emerald if they weren't so dull and bloodshot from crying and lack of sleep. The world is not the kindest of places.

Balancing two drinks in one hand and a plate with the blueberry muffin atop it in the other, the adorned in black lady carefully makes her way to the armchairs. After a swift exchange, the two are sipping from their separate cardboard cups, and the muffin is happily sitting on its house on the older of the two's lap. "I know that you're nervous," she says, surprisingly gently.

"I don't get why you need me to do this, Shizune," Sakura replies, snapping the lid off of her coffee and fiddling with it in her hands. "What's it going to change?'

"You, I hope," Shizune sighs, "and maybe it'll shed some light on what happened. But you are the priority; I want you to know that."

"That doesn't answer my question. How is this going to help?"

"Sometimes to finally understand things, you have to say them out loud."

Sakura sighs and bites her lip, wincing as blood rushes up. She stops before it comes dripping from her self-inflicted injury. She has always been this way. Quitting just before the real pain sets in, though sometimes it pursues her, and she gets swept up in it anyway. That's when she slips and plummets to the bottom of the darkest of her mind's rabbit holes. She never escapes unscathed. Just ask Shizune, her therapist.

"Well," Sakura begins, uncertainty hovering around the edges of her words, "I never meant to end up like this."

"In rehab and therapy?"

"Yeah."

"Nobody does at the beginning. Can you tell me why you decided you need help?"

"Hinata," Sakura whispers, and suddenly tears are worming their ways out of her eyes, and she frantically wipes at them.

They are gone as suddenly as they appeared.

"Ah, yes," Shizune clears her throat, and then says softly, "her."

"Can we not say her name?" Sakura mumbles, cheeks burning with searing hot shame.

"Sure," Shizune nods. "Let's call her H, okay?"

"Okay."

"It's okay to cry, you know."

Sakura doesn't respond. The mention of H has thrown her fragile mind off course, and now her thoughts are all ricocheting off of each other in frantic, arbitrary ways. Everything reminds her of the girl who is no longer here. Of revelations and stories and mistaken love and pain, oh the pain, and the pounds and the failures and the false victories and the way her world has been steadily falling to pieces. But she will not cry anymore.

"Do you want to start again?" Shizune suggests, taking a sip from her chai.

"Sure," Sakura lies. She would rather be back in the hospital being force-fed through tubes than here, relaying her story to her inexperienced therapist. "Well, it started a while ago. Last summer, really. It was a party. A really big one."

"Care to elaborate?"

"No, not really," Sakura says sheepishly. "I don't really want to talk about this."

"Yes, you do," Shizune presses.

Sakura is beginning to wonder if she's being interrogated. "Fine."

She is anything but. It's been too long. She can't remember the last time she smiled. Being content with life is one thing that Sakura has never had, but she used to be, figuratively speaking, happy. She had friends. Hopes. Dreams. "The music was blaring. I could hear it down the street as I approached Ino's house, she was the one throwing the party, and I don't think she meant for it to get so huge. She invited about ten people, but then they started inviting their friends, and the numbers got out of control. There was shrieking and laughing, and I was looking forward to when I'd step through that door, because I knew that somebody special was going to be there. Sasuke.

I'd dressed up just for him. Heels, short skirt, tight top. I didn't know what he liked, except for long hair, so I just wore clothes like Ino usually wore out to dance in. You know, effortlessly slutty. I wish I hadn't now."

"Why?"

"Because he did like it. Very much."

"He raped you?" Shizune's eyes widen, and her jaw drops. "Nobody ever mentioned this to me! Oh, my God! Why-why didn't you tell anyone, Sakura? Jesus Christ-!"

"He didn't!" Sakura shouts, making the barista jump. She rolls her eyes, and returns to her new magazine.

"Oh," Shizune says sheepishly, embarrassed by her too soon assumption, "oh."

"Yes. He did not do that to me. I'm not saying that he's still a good person, though I didn't know he wasn't a fairytale prince come true at the time. I thought he was troubled. I didn't know how much of his time he spent completely wasted, or his complete disregard of most other people. He didn't care about anyone. They weren't his parents. They died when he was young, and he never really moved on. I think that's why he started the drinking, the drugs. But he was so dark, mysterious, and unbelievably hot. Dark, smoldering eyes. Spiked, black hair. He was like the pictures old spinsters masturbate to. Absolutely gorgeous.

I stood in the kitchen and flirted casually with Naruto and Kiba. My eyes were riveted to Sasuke; he was just out of reach, standing a few feet away from the doorway. He kept sipping at his beer, and he was constantly looking my way and turning whenever he thought I would catch him. He didn't know that I was catching him every time.

It was enough to make me giddy. I giggled at everything Naruto and Kiba said; even a steel safe couldn't contain my happiness. The only thing I wanted was for Sasuke to come over and strike up a conversation. I wished on my father's soul, may he rest in peace. I can't believe that I did that, looking back. I pinned my hopes on my dead father. Dreams for a druggie. Unfortunately, my dad listened."

"And you got knocked up, didn't you?" Shizune says pointedly, slurping up the rest of her chai as Sakura flushes scarlet.

"J-just a little bit…" she sputters, gripping onto her cup of cooling coffee.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The therapist's brief moment of docility and gentleness has fled the scene. Her usual self has returned, dragging along with it her unnerving frankness and biting sarcasm. Shizune finds herself in contradictions. Next to her bed, she has stacks of books of paradoxes and psychology theories. The latter is growing exponentially; after an unwanted phone call from an exasperated employer, Shizune has been ordering more and more books in an attempt to at least be good enough to work for her small-scale company. She specializes in dealing with girls with eating disorders, at least, that's what her Facebook page says. In reality, however, her clients end up attending one session, and they generally don't schedule more. Sakura is Shizune's first true patient, but now that Shizune finally had somebody she is supposed to help, she isn't quite sure how to do it. "Well?" Shizune presses. "If it was only a little, what's that? Is that just one of your new words for doing the nasty, or was it like a blowjob or something?"

Shizune's other patients had always begun to feel uncomfortable just a few minutes into their meeting. Sakura is no exception. "I guess," Sakura snaps, "to put in your old people terms, you'd call it sexual intercourse."

"That's much clearer," Shizune smiles broadly. "Thank you for the clarification."

"You're welcome," Sakura says through her clenched teeth.

She wishes again that she hadn't shown up to confer with this exasperating woman. There isn't much to stop her from dumping her cold coffee onto Shizune's too composed coat and white turtleneck, smirking with satisfaction as the therapist's jaw slides off her face, and turning on her heel and confidently walking out, tipping the barista as she leaves. A perfect storm out. The only roadblock, though, is the girl slowly decomposing a few feet under a mourner's feet as the world continues on its maddeningly uncertain course.

"Shall we continue?" Shizune offers.

Sakura considers remaining in her stony silence, but thinks better of it. She will abide by the dead's wishes, no matter if she is the one who is not wasting away in a coffin. "Yes," she sighs. "Probably. Continuing, yes, we had sex, but I want to tell you everything in the order that it went, not in order of importance. Sasuke approached me, and suddenly my whole attention span was totally focused on him. It didn't take long for Naruto and Kiba to realize this, and soon Naruto was hitting up the food, and Kiba was rummaging around in Hinata's shirt. They lasted the night, maybe not even that. But anyway, we talked, if you could call me attempting to translate his slurred speech and replying to whatever I thought he said, talking. I didn't think that it was ridiculous, the way he had to lean onto my shoulder to keep himself from keeling over. I thought it was cute. It made me feel strong, you know? Like I was able to support me and someone else at the same time. Finally, he grabbed my hand and whispered in my ear, 'Let's go somewhere else.' I would've followed him anywhere, and I did. Out behind the house, through a few backyards, and finally to the play set that Hinata's little sister-I think her name was Hanabi-used to play on. There was the usual foreplay, a few awkward kisses, until he started to take things further. It was clumsy. Nothing like I'd imagined being so intimate with Sasuke would have been. The only thing saving the experience from being terminated was the fact that I was with him.

We, well, more of me trying to salvage the mangled remains of the situation, kept at it for a few more minutes. I was drenched in sweat, and so was he. It was a warm night, but it was sweltering for us. Soon, he drifted off to sleep, and it was so much like his previous actions that it took me a while to realize that he was sleeping, and I had just spent the past few minutes simply working on sexual techniques on-let's face it-a dummy. I stopped abruptly. Reality was starting to seep into the cracks my deluded world had failed to seal.

I pressed my face into his bare chest and took a long, shuddering sigh. I tried to pretend that he was wrapping his arms around me, that the heat on my back wasn't just our sweat settling onto my skin. I wanted to go to sleep. I wanted to so badly that I screwed my eyes shut and tried to think of every single thing that has always let me drop down to sleep. Like physics, fireplaces, pornos-don't look at me like that, I know that I'm a freak-easy listening music, and the sound of waves lapping up against a shoreline. None of that was working. I couldn't stop thinking about how big of a mistake I'd just made.

Sasuke moaned and slowly opened his eyes. For a seemingly never-ending moment, we stared at each other. I couldn't help but watch in horror as the shock registered on his face. At that moment, there was nothing I wanted more than to be at home in my bed, far away from Sasuke. I'd never wished that before, but suddenly, it was the only thing in the world that I'd like. I hope you know that I'm incredibly indecisive by now. It's a challenge for me to stick with wanting one thing for more than an hour at a time. This," Sakura gestures at her self,"and Sasuke are quite possibly the only things that I've ever held onto longer than a day."

"You sound like my old friend, Tsunade," Shizune muses; sometimes she gets sucked into the tales disclosed to her and finds herself consumed by the memories they unearth.

"Why?" Sakura asks. The sick, nauseating nervousness is coming back to her as her steady stream of uncomfortable remembrance is brought to a pause.

"She used to change her mind every few minutes. One moment, she'd be sliding on her stilettos for a night out on town, the next, throwing them in the closet and nestling into the couch cushions for chic flick and ice cream sob fest."

"Why do you talk about her in past tense?"

"This session is about you, not me," Shizune shifts in her seat, recrossing her legs and sending a furtive glance out the window.

"Sorry, ma'am." Over the years, Sakura has learned not to stick her nose in places where she is not wanted.

In fifth grade, Sakura had had a best friend. The girl's name was, is, Ino. The two were inseparable for the five months that they spent confiding in each other. It was one of those midsummer days that no one quite knows the number of, because everyone had stopped paying attention to the date by halfway through June. Sakura and Ino were walking to Ino's house; it was a sweltering day, and the pair had no money to purchase lemonade from the dozens of stands stationed on what seemed like every corner. When they arrived at their destination, Sakura noticed something odd. Two cars were parked in the driveway. At many homes, it's not unusual to see more than one vehicle; in fact, oftentimes families have three. At Ino's house, however, her parents only had one car. Her father would drop her mother off at work every morning, and pick her up precisely at five every evening. If Ino wanted to go somewhere, she had no choice but to walk. Ino and Sakura stood in a wondering silence for a long moment as they both pondered the mystery of the blue pick-up. Ino told Sakura to wait for her while she went inside to figure out what was going on. The blonde vanished inside the screen door, and Sakura surrendered herself to waiting. Waiting for one minute. Two. Three. Worry, creeping into her mind like a stealthy thief in the night, began to whisper at the edges of Sakura's thoughts. Another couple of minutes passed. Panic was successfully shoving worry out of the spotlight. What if Ino had been hurt? What if her mother was dead? What if the car was driven by a robber and he had the whole family tied up and at gunpoint? The imagery of what could happen to her first best friend was too much for Sakura to handle. She raced up the front stairs and frantically pushed open the door, all of the adrenaline in her little body pulsing through her. She quickly surveyed the room. Confusion surged through her, and the worry and panic and nausea built up over the waiting period was replaced in an instant. What was Ino's mom doing with the man on the couch? Why hadn't they folded their clothes before tossing them onto the floor? Wait, why weren't they wearing clothes? More questions attacked Sakura's conscience as Ino turned to face her. Ino's were cold, guarded, and her mouth was set in a firm, grim line. Sakura began to open her mouth to inquire as to what was going on. "Go," Ino whispered. "Just go and forget, okay?"

They haven't spoken since.

Well, not until this year.

"Don't apologize for being curious. It's human nature," Shizune sighs.

"Sorry…"

"Stop it!"

"Jesus, okay!"

Shizune stares into her empty plate. Maybe if she looks at it long enough, the only thing left in the world will be that single, porcelain dish. No more angry bosses, ex husbands, uncooperative patients, or dead friends. Well, at least Sakura and she have one thing in common. But a story is not best left at a hanging standstill, so Shizune opens her mouth once more. "Continue."

Sakura remains buried in her hole of stony silence.

"Please."

More minutes pass. A bead of sweat unwillingly slides down Shizune's pale cheek. She wonders why she chose to be a therapist. She could've had a respectable job-like a doctor or a member of the Peace Corps. But nooooooo, she just had to have an inexplicable urge to help people overcome their mental obstacles. How could she have ever been so stupid?

"So he'd woken up, right?" Sakura says softly, running a hand through her stringy, slightly greasy pink hair.

"Yes." Shizune shoots a quick prayer to her God. Please let her keep going so I can keep my job. Please, please, please.

Her prayers morph into a song from her days of teenage angst. "Won't you please, please, please, let me, let me get what I want, this time."

"Well, it took a few more minutes for Sasuke to really realize where he was. As soon as he opened his mouth, I took the cue to get the hell off of him. His bloodshot, black eyes were glued on me as I rushed to pull on my clothes. With them trained on me, I couldn't think straight. I don't think I even remembered to put on my bra; it's probably still under the bushes there. 'Shit, man,' he drawled, still groggy but not totally out of it. 'You. Are. So. Fucking. Heavy.'

I was speechless. I thought that maybe in some sick way, at least he had enjoyed it. But no. No. He'd just spent an hour getting crushed by my fat ass," Sakura falls silent at this. Her coffee cup full of empty caffeine calories is glaring up at her scornfully. She wonders why she ever wasted her money on something that will inevitably make her hips wider and her arms flabbier. What has she been thinking, actually eating? There is no way she will put off any more weight doing ridiculous things like that.

Shizune raises her eyebrows. When she was a teenager, around Sakura's age, actually, she tried not eating. By the end of one day, she was so ravenous that she scarfed down a whole carton of ice cream. After that day, anorexia never occurred to her in her ventures to lose weight through her teen years. To some others, namely her patients, however, it seemed to be the only option.

"For the next few days, I barely spoke. My friends buzzed around me. Their questions filled up the empty air that I hadn't bothered to put my own thoughts into. I didn't answer to any of them. Why should I have let them know what had happened? It was nothing beautiful, like what everyone says sex should be. To me, it seemed like I'd been cheated, like everything I'd been dreaming about was all a lie to initiate me into reality. I was betrayed by my own thoughts. The voices surrounding me gradually faded away over the weeks, along with my desire to eat. Soon, all that was left was me and two other people. Sasuke was always on my mind. I wanted another chance with him, and the next time, I wouldn't be too heavy. He would pay as much attention to me as I'd given up to him. The other person was Naruto.

I suppose that I should fill you in on the history between us; it'd only be fair to him to do the same as I did for Sasuke. We met in first grade before either of us really knew anything of the world. Naruto was the kid in the back of the class with the notebook full of fresh ideas for pranks. You know the type, I'm sure. He liked me all through elementary and middle school, though I never took him seriously until the summer after eighth grade. He was the class clown, and I thought we were strictly friends. I didn't feel like there was any truth to his words until he took me aside while we were walking home from the pool one day and kissed me. It was my first kiss, and it caught me so off guard that I just went along with it. Naruto was the one who broke it off, surprisingly. When I pulled back and looked him square in the face, I felt my now all too familiar sinking feeling. He didn't have to open his mouth to ask me if I felt anything. I didn't have to say anything to give him my answer. Naruto turned away with a sigh, and that's when I started sobbing. I poured everything out to him. I couldn't leave him hanging, and to be honest, I wanted him to know about why I couldn't like him back. Sasuke, my friends, family, all about me and all I'd ever thought of him tumbled out of my mouth. Naruto didn't walk away, like most guys I know would. They wouldn't bother to listen to what I had to say if I turned them down. But Naruto was, is different. I'm just so sorry that it's my fault that he's in the situation that he is in now. That's a different story, though, and I'm afraid that I'm not going to delve in there right now. I don't want you to be one of the only attendees at my pity party.

He listened to me, though. I loved every minute of it. He never interrupted, and it seemed like he was hanging onto each word that I said. Even now, I still don't know why I still strove for Sasuke instead of leaving my childish dreams behind and embracing Naruto. We have remained close friends, even though he doesn't let me forget that he still has feelings for me.

So to return to more recent events, after most of my friends had lost interest in me, Naruto was the only one who remained. Every day, we'd walk home together after school. We talked, but I always skirted around the important things. He'd try to bring them up with questions on what had happened at the party that made me stop speaking to most people. Questions on why my clothes seemed to be much looser. Naruto'd crack a few jokes-'You're too white to be a gangster, Sakura.'-and I'd try to smile. He didn't understand why I wouldn't tell him what was wrong. It was too embarrassing; I couldn't stand the thought of him knowing why I had to lose the weight. A few weeks passed. Our relationship grew uneasy. Naruto started to interrogate me and barrage me with his thoughts. 'What you're doing,' he poked my ribs, 'is a load of total bullshit. I don't know what happened between you and Sasuke to make you do this to yourself, but it's not worth it. You can't keep losing weight, Sakura."

'Why?' I asked, startled. Naruto had never directly acknowledged the pounds falling off my body before."

'You're going to die.'

I was completely speechless, and then infuriated. He had no right to tell me what to do with my body! My weight was my business. I shook my head; I didn't know what to say. 'Sakura!' Naruto shouted, and he gripped my shoulders tightly. I was surprised at how strong he was and also at how much it hurt. By now, I was trembling all over. I remember thinking that he was going to murder me, but I wasn't thinking straight.

'Just tell me!' he started to shake me. 'Why are you doing this to yourself? What in God's name did Sasuke do to you!'

I gave him no answer. I can be quite stubborn when I want to be.

'Fuck, Sakura!' Naruto spat as he released me. I rubbed my aching shoulders,

and looked at him long and hard for a few moments. As he started to say something more, I whipped around and fled. I sprinted down the empty street and stumbled into my house, collapsing on the couch in the living room. I didn't get up until the next morning when I had to get ready for school."

"How did Naruto's anger make you feel?" Shizune inquires, making a half-hearted attempt to act like she believes a therapist should act.

"I was scared, mostly. I didn't want to have to really consider what he was trying to get through to me. If I accepted what he said, I would have to admit to myself that I could die from what I was doing, though I think that I knew it in the back of my mind, but it was still too far in the closet to let its presence be known to me."

"That's understandable," Shizune comments, because she has nothing better to say.

No wonder she's such a cheap therapist.

Sakura restrains herself from grumbling the sentence above. At the moment, she wants a better person to talk to, one that would offer her clear advice and feedback that would give her some sort of direction in life. Hinata would've disapproved; Sakura is sure of that. But then again, why didn't Hinata get her own goddamn therapist? In Sakura's opinion, Hinata had needed one much more than she did. Sakura could've died from her actions, but Hinata did. Maybe Hinata had no problem with putting food in her mouth. She had to have had a problem with living, though. Otherwise, Sakura knows that Hinata never would've swallowed that bottle of pills.

Why had Hinata been such a hypocrite? She looked Sakura in the eye and told her that she needed help-that the emerald eyed girl didn't deserve to die. Had Hinata thought that she deserved death? Sakura wonders. Sure, there were a few rumors swirling around the school about her. They were mostly about something from over the summer-Neji said she'd made out with a girl on the notorious play set in her backyard. Sakura dismissed the gossip; she knew that Hinata couldn't keep her eyes off of Naruto. Now she wishes that she'd spoken up about the girl's crush. Maybe it would've embarrassed-no, it would've embarrassed her-but at least it would've stopped the harsh words and abuse she was suffering at school.

"Should I say something more?" Shizune snaps, drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair.

"You don't have to," Sakura sighs, drowning her dislike of the woman in her accustomed politeness. "I should probably just keep going, shouldn't I?"

"Yes, you should."

"That next day, I went to school as I would every other day. There was nothing amiss in my classes. I ate the 50 calories for lunch as I did every day. Something was off, though. I couldn't stop peering over my shoulder; everything looked ominous to me. The food on everyone else's trays screamed that something was going to happen. Ino's gaze seemed to be guarded as she stared at me across the lunchroom. Everyone seemed to be hiding something. All of the actions were the same as they always were, however. I couldn't stop thinking, 'What are they hiding from me? What will they do?' I suspected it had something to do with Sasuke. It wasn't much of a secret how I'd felt about him. The conspiracy theories swirled through my head. I had a nagging feeling that he'd remembered that night, now a month past, and had suddenly let it slip to the whole school. I didn't want to be called a slut."

Shizune's shock is plainly displayed on her pale features. "Why the hell does sleeping with a single guy make you a slut?" she demands, blood rushing into her face.

"I'm a girl," Sakura shrugs. "Unless everybody loves you, you're going to get called a whore."

"I don't believe it!" Shizune huffs. "That never used to happen when I was a kid, I swear."

"You're not a kid now," Sakura says pointedly.

Shizune sighs, and she wishes that a window cleaner would stride purposefully across the street with a bucket full of water and a long mop at his side and wipe away the dust that has been lingering on these windows for many years. Windows have always been a form of escapism for her. Jane Austen was for other, more feminine girls. Shizune has always preferred to gaze upon the sights in the great outdoors from a safe outreach. She revels in her nonconformity, to the point that to some people, it is nauseating. It was one of the main reasons that her marriage ended so badly.

"I know," Shizune finally says, "but you are just a kid. I'm not trying to sound rude here, but you need to live your life the best you can now, before you'll start really having consequences."

"We have consequences now, ma'am."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I know people who already are going to have to live with what they've done now for the rest of their lives."

"Sakura, that's their lives. It's not yours."

Sakura follows in Shizune's footsteps as she breathes an airy sigh. She can't help but see her former friends and hope that she doesn't have to go through the things that they have been through. She knows that this is hypocritical, though. She has already done many things with consequences. If her ribs could speak, they would tell you this as well.

"Where was I?" Sakura hurriedly changes the subject. She doesn't know what to say to the only good advice Shizune has given her in their conversation. "Right. I remember now. I was on my guard all day. Every hushed tone seemed to be whispering harsh words about me. When eighth period came around, I leapt out of my seat, relieved to finally be able to escape the paranoia whirling through me. I slipped through the throngs of students in my eagerness to leave the day behind me. When I got to the entrance, well, now exit, however, I found myself stuck behind a huge crowd of people. Students were darting quick, short statements to each other as they craned their necks to see over the taller person in front of them. I wormed my way around the edge until I found a small break between people that I could squeeze myself into. I worked through the crowd this way for a minute or two when I heard Naruto shout over the din, 'You fucking asshole!' Everyone grew silent, and I started trying to shove my way to a view ten times harder.

Finally, I emerged in the front. The time it took to get there felt like forever, but I'm sure now that it was really only a minute or so. Sasuke was leaning against the railing, a cigarette dangling from his fingers; Naruto stood in front of him, fists curled, frame square and trembling with anger. Sasuke's glazed gaze drifted across the gathered students as he flicked his cigarette at Naruto. Ash splattered on Naruto's shirt. 'You think you can get away with hurting people just because you think can't hurt them as much as you've been hurt!' Naruto snarled. I can't say that I didn't see it coming when he snatched Sasuke's shirt collar and yanked him off of his position on the railing, drawing Sasuke's face close to his own.

'You have no idea what I've been going through!' Sasuke spat. 'Like you've had anyone ripped away from you right in front of you!'

'I don't care that your fucking family's dead!' Naruto shouted. 'I don't even care that you waste all of your time getting stoned instead of trying to get over how much your life sucks! I care about the fact that you're dragging Sakura down with you. Have you even bothered to look at her lately? Can you see how all of her bones are sticking out? How her eyes are sunken into her head? How her head seems too big for her body? It's your fault, Uchiha! It's all your fucking fault!'

Everyone craned his or her heads to get a look at me.

'Why should I care if a girl that's been mooning over me for longer than I can remember is starving herself for me? It's her decision not to eat. Don't drag me into your love problems, Naruto. I don't give a shit.'

That's when the punches started flying. Time seemed to slow down for me; every strike was brilliantly clear. Naruto dropped Sasuke's collar and sent a fist straight into his cheek. Somehow, Sasuke still had his cigarette in his hand, and he drove it into Naruto's exposed arm. Naruto howled as his skin burned; his cry was like a dying animal's, and shivers traveled up my spine. I didn't move, though. I can't tell you why, because I honestly don't know. I just stood there, watching the two most important guys in my life pummel each other over me. A voice inside me was screaming, 'Stop them!' I couldn't bring myself to listen to it. I was too scared. What if I said the wrong thing? What if they didn't see me throwing myself into the fray, and I got hurt? I didn't want to take the risk at that point."

Sasuke managed to get a few more burns in until the cigarette finally flew out of his hand. He threw a few punches to Naruto's head, each one solidly connecting with his skull. Naruto's hits were many and all over, sometimes even missing. Sasuke's were quick and well aimed. Huge bruises were already blossoming over Naruto's cheeks, and his bright blue eyes were swelling up. Despite all of his injuries, he shoved Sasuke to the ground and drove a swift kick into his ribs. The crowd, minus me, was screaming two completely different things. One half was cheering them on, lusting for more bloodshed. The others were calling for the teachers to save Naruto and Sasuke from each other. Naruto's kicks started getting harder and more frenzied. He didn't care where he was aiming anymore. Anywhere was good. Blood splattered from Naruto's nose and onto Sasuke's once clean, grey t-shirt. There was no beauty in either boy right now. No matter how hard I screwed my eyes shut and tried to imagine the guys that I cared about so much, I couldn't see them. The handsome, mysterious Sasuke I thought I loved was gone. Some asshole I'd never seen before had whisked away my distorted illusion of him. The only thing left was cold, harsh reality. I felt like I'd just been thrown into a strange, new world, where I had no place and no direction. The only thing I knew was that I had to stop Naruto."

I broke from the confines of the crowd, and I made a beeline straight for Naruto. 'Stop!' I screamed, in a tone more high-pitched than I'd ever made before. Fear does strange things to people, particularly me. Naruto glanced up. His eyes were wild, and his mouth was set in a firm, grim line. 'What are you doing, Sakura?' he screeched back at me. 'I'm trying to help you, and what do you do? You fucking turn on me! All I'm trying to do is make things right! That's it!' He jabbed his foot into Sasuke's side. Sasuke grunted, and began to choke on something. Moments later, he began to cough up blood, shuddering violently and clutching his stomach.

'You're not helping anything!' I pleaded with him, crossing over and grabbing Naruto's hand, shaking it as I begged. 'Just stop! It's not worth it! Not at all!'"

"Someone shoved me roughly out of the way, and I stumbled and pitched into the railing. All of the breath was knocked out of me. Mr. Hatake slammed into Naruto, throwing him to the ground beside Sasuke. The nurse sprinted to Sasuke's side as staff swarmed Naruto. Where had they been the whole time? Nobody knew for sure."

"As soon as Naruto went down, things went very quickly. So quickly that I could hardly tell what was going on. People whirred past me, their faces blurring together and bodies all morphing into one singular unclear form. I couldn't distinguish the words being screamed. They all sounded the same to me. My head spun. I'd only eaten a few grapes that day, and I was really starting to feel it. I wanted to curl up right there on the ground and sleep away the day. The fear, though. Oh, the fear. It was consuming me, pulsing questions through me at a relentless beat. What were they going to do with Naruto? My imagination conjured multiple images, and none of them were anything even remotely pleasant. God…" Sakura trails off, leaning over and cradling her head in her hands.

"It's not your fault," Shizune says awkwardly.

Sakura doesn't reply. She is finding that as her story begins to dwindle to a close, her replies to Shizune's attempts to console her are also diminishing. Shizune's efforts are almost laughable to her now, in all of their ineptness. Sakura will not give up her trying, though. If not for herself, then for Naruto. For Hinata.

"I didn't move throughout all of the chaos. For ten minutes, the world just passed me by. I was surprisingly apathetic to the commotion around me. My thoughts were trained on Naruto and what was going to happen to him. I didn't care so much about Sasuke anymore. He was suddenly gone-a figment of the past. I felt incredibly stupid. At that moment, I couldn't grasp exactly why I'd clung onto the idea of Sasuke for so long. I'm still not sure how I could've been so blind.

A voice snapped me out of my whirlwind of mixed emotions. At first, I couldn't make out what it was saying. The tone was too soft, the words too stammered and choked out. 'What?' I grunted, glancing up. It was only Hinata-she didn't mean half as much to me then as she does now. It was only after, after it, that I remembered everything we said.

'Are you okay?' she asked, stepping over to lean over the railing next to me.

'I don't know,' I replied; I was too exhausted to lie.

'I-I wish I'd done something, too," Hinata admitted as she gazed out over the grounds. '

'About what?' I let out a harsh laugh.

'Sasuke and Naruto,' she said, never once looking towards me. 'Not my…m-my flab.'

I said nothing. I didn't know what to say. I only knew Hinata from a distance. She was a little on the chubby side, but now I'm not so sure. My views on weight were pretty off then. I knew that her cousin, Neji, treated her like she was an animal in a slaughterhouse-she never knew when he'd hit her with another attack. And she was in love with Naruto, at least, she loved him in the way that you do when you watch someone from afar every day, memorizing their patterns, motions, language, everything. Stalkerish, yes. Hopeless, undoubtedly. Destructive? Without a doubt. 'Sakura,' Hinata whispered, her stuttering fading as her voice grew quieter. 'I want you to do something for me.'

This struck me as very strange. From what I knew of her, she never asked for anything. 'What is it?' I asked, turning my head to face her.

'You need help.'

For the first time, I noticed how her long, blue-black hair fluttered in the wind. She'd stopped having it cut over the summer. Funny, how people stop caring as their hope dwindles. I don't think she meant it to, but her hair looked beautiful. I still wonder why she hadn't grown it out before. Maybe the boyish hair cut she used to wear felt safer to her.

'Sakura, I'm begging you.' Raw desperation tugged at the edge of her voice. 'If not for me, then for you. You need to do it before it's too late. You can still save yourself.'

Do you know what I did then, Miss?"

"What did you do, Sakura?" Shizune is on the edge of her seat, hands trembling.

"I walked away from her. Just left her by that railing and left without looking back. I went home and buried myself in my bed, and I tried to block out my thoughts by blasting music. One kept persistently nagging me, though, and no matter what I did, I couldn't tune it out. I didn't understand why Hinata had wanted to help me so badly. Then, I thought that maybe she'd just been trying to score brownie points with Jesus or something. But now, I'm sure that it was because she didn't want somebody else to throw their life away. She knew what she was doing. She knew that she could've kept on living; she had to! I don't understand why she felt the need to do it. I haven't since I got the call later that night. The day after, I didn't go to school. I dialed the hospital as soon as I woke up, and I turned myself in. This was two months ago. Last week, my rehab group leader suggested that I get a therapist, so I'd have a professional opinion. And here I am."

The pair sit in silence. Sakura can barely keep her eyes open; if she could, she'd curl up and fall asleep on the armchair. She takes a swig of her cold coffee, pursing her lips at the awful taste. She puts it back on the window sill, and as she does this, she notices the corner of a scrap of paper protruding from between the chair and the window. Sakura stares at it quizzically, mulling over whether or not she should pull it from its hiding place. The upsides outweigh the downsides-her rehab group calls this decision making process "weighing the scale"-so she gently works it out of the groove. Shizune raises her eyebrows, but she says nothing on it. She is still trying to take in Sakura's story. These things, like many others, take time.

The slip of paper now rests between Sakura's fingers. She carefully unfolds it, wary of tearing what could be an important message. Hinata has made her pay much more attention to the words people say.

Her eyes scan the sentences scrawled on the page.

"Are you reading this? I ask questions about everything, but I don't get answers. I loved a girl, but she never answered me. She was everything to me, but I wasn't anything to her. Why was that? Maybe I couldn't see past her bright, green eyes. Could you? I still think about her, even as I hunt for a place to spend the night. I think about how she hurt me, and I hope that she's still alive-hasn't followed H. I wonder, does she think about me?"

Sakura rereads the note a few more times. Her pink lips form small, sad smile as she gently refolds this valuable collection of letters and punctuation. Shizune sits up as Sakura rises from her seat. There is no use. The door swings shut; the bell dings even though an exit has been made, not an entrance.

Sakura glances back over her shoulder as she embarks through the twilight. For her, there will be no sleep tonight. She is expected.

Author's Notes: I have been working on and off on this since last April, and sadly, due to my procrastination, am still not done. I hope to finish the third chapter after Nanowrimo, but don't expect much until December. :\ Thank you for reading! (: