Just as a quick warning--this prologue contains suicidal material.
xXx Karma xXx
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I felt like killing myself.
I'd always made fun of those kids who were emotionally influenced enough by the world to want to do the same--the 'emo' kids that sat around on the bottom of the concrete steps at Konoha High. They always wore black eyeliner and they sat around on the computer, posting dark and depressing poetry on Myspace so that their friends could pity them and attempt to comfort them. They were pathetic and weak, and they were always moaning and bitching about some girlfriend who left them or their 'inner demons' or some bullshit like that.
And now I was one of them. I shouldn't have pushed her away. She really was the only one who made me happy, the only one who could make me forget my demented brother and the loss of my parents. She was the only one who made me feel as if I truly were superior and elite, rather than just pretending that I was. She could drag me out of his depression and back into the light. She was sunshine and flowers and happiness and light--not in the hokey way, like a lot of girls were, but real, tangible. She was the perfect girl.
And I'd thrown it all away with two hands.
But that wasn't all that made me want to cause my own demise (currently I planned on using the razor blade in my pocket to my own wrist). Instead of just leaving him and that be that, she went and fell in love with his best friend. The best friend with the same dreams and hopes of being noticed for themselves for a change, not for family or name. Not for the secrets and scandal. The best friend with a serious problem with letting go, just like me, and the same stubborn attitude.
He'd loved her since I don't know when, but he knew that, even if I never said it, I loved her as well--so he kept his mouth shut. He would have suffered for my--his best friend's--happiness.
God, the blood feels so good. Maybe I can escape the pain of this stupid, pointless life. Maybe I'll save others from pain and suffering in the future. Maybe if they forget about me after I die, they won't have to dwell on my problems and my brooding self. I know it gets annoying to others. I don't care. Or, maybe I do, and that's why I want to die.
It doesn't even make a sound as it hits the floor. It mixes in with a puddle of rainwater and oil in the parking lot, and it makes beautiful designs and swirls in rainbow colors.
And Itachi... the pain of losing my parents was enough, even though my father was gruff and not that great at parenting. No, to place a big red cherry on top, perched precariously atop the bodies of my parents and dripping its red juices, was my big brother. My mentor, my role model. I'll never forget the look in his eyes as he held that kitchen knife in his hand. Calm, apathetic.
Why? Why didn't you kill me, too, brother? It would have saved me the inconvenience of doing it myself. I guess karma knew that I'd turn out to be an asshole, so it decided to let me suffer awhile before I broke down.
Those kids lied in all their poetry--I felt each and every stroke of the blade and the steel piercing through my skin as I prepared to die.