Disclaimer: I only own this story – Kishimoto owns Naruto and everything within it

A/N: I am so happy for this fanfiction. The response I got was huge. Well, according to me anyway. Eight reviews in four days. Wow. You all make me melt into a puddle of joy. Albeit, a puddle of joy that can type. I would like reviewers to keep reviewing as much as they would consider untroublesome. It's great encouragement. It'll also tell me I'm not alone and that the story hasn't been given up on.

Anyway, here's the second chapter. I don't think it meets up to the standards of the previous chap but that's probably my negative conscience. It is shorter though. Oh well.

Warnings: This chapter contains profanity, blood, scars, cutting...etc

SASORI POV

We file out of the room in a single line. Only Tobi is talking. Zetsu doesn't seem to be paying much attention to him though. Right now, I am wondering what happens. I shuffle along the hallway in the vague direction of the cafeteria. Or at least, that's where I think I'm going.

I am suddenly aware that I am alone. I shrug to myself. I like being alone.

...Except when I seem to be lost.

"Crap," I mutter.

I look to the left and right, trying to find something I recognise.The place is deserted. Feeling frustrated, I walk over to the left side of the hallway and sit down against the wall. I decide to wait for someone to find me.

I yawn. I have no idea how long I've been waiting. It seems like hours. I can't help but be slightly disappointed that no one has come looking for me yet. I can't decide whether to try and find my own way out or wait for someone to find me. Sighing, I absentmindedly push up the sleeves of my jacket. I notice the bandage with interest.

Resting the bandaged arm in my lap, I start to undo the dressing. Slowly, the reason of my incarceration is revealed. I stare in morbid awe of the long scar stretching up my forearm; all nice and stitched together. It was so long! Maybe I really was trying to kill myself. I push the wound hard.

Shit, it hurts!

I wince as the angry slash throbs. But it makes me feel slightly better. The sharp pain reminds me I am alive. It reminds me how tough I am. I can cut myself willingly. With knives, razors, long scissors...whatever I can think of. Not everyone can do that.

I study the scar. The reddish skin proudly sports a long strip of dull red. I feel the itching urge to rip off the scab and scratch at my arm until I am satisfied I will bleed to death. I quickly rewrap the dressing on the wound. Instead, I rest the other arm on my lap. A line of evenly spaced stripes lay there. I examine each of my much smaller cuts with regular interest. I know each of their stories. They are all unique. Okay, I guess they'd all tell pretty much the same kind of story. Most of them are fairly old though. One or two are about 5 to 6 days old.

I run my fingers over the ridges, bumpy, smooth, bumpy, smooth...

"There you are, un!" exclaims a relieved voice.

Quick as a flash, I yank my sleeves down again. I glare viciously at him.

"You took your bloody time."

Deidara looks offended. "If I were you, I'd appreciate the fact that I've been found, un."

"Good thing you're not me then."

Deidara scoffs. "I wouldn't be here if the nurses hadn't gone into panic mode because you went missing, un."

"Do I look like I care?"

"Well you would if the nurses found you instead of me, un."

"And why's that, brat?"

Deidara scowls in annoyance. "Because they would've put you under so much medication that you wouldn't wake up for the next couple of weeks."

I snort.

"I think they did that to me a couple of times, un," adds Deidara, thoughtfully.

I stand up abruptly. "Let's go. You've kept me waiting long enough."

"What? No 'thank you'?" asks Deidara in mock disappointment.

"You don't deserve it," was my curt reply.

We walk along the hallway, turning around a corner. At the end of the corridor, I am happy to recognise the cafeteria. That means my room must be nearby. To the near left, I see a room with a brass plaque on the door. Akasuna Sasori is inscribed on it. I walk to the door, placing a hand on the door knob. I will for Deidara to go away. Instead, he patiently waits for me to open the door. Sighing, I turn to face him.

"Can't you see I want to be alone now?" I snap at him.

"No, not really, un," replies Deidara cheerfully.

Growling in exasperation, I open the door and rush inside, hoping Deidara isn't fast enough to slip through. He nimbly slithers in just before the door closes.

He glances around the room. "This is plain, un."

I roll my eyes. "It's white, brat."

"Stop calling me that, un. You make me sound like a little child," pouts Deidara.

"You are a little child."

Deidara huffs. He suddenly springs over to my wardrobe, throwing open the doors.

"Hey! Leave my clothes alone!"

He giggles, head hidden from sight as he digs through my items of clothing.

I storm over to him, jerking him out and slamming the doors shut.

I grab the pair of socks in his gloved hand and swiftly stuff it back in the wardrobe.

I look around to see Deidara lying on my bed.

"Hey, I have to sleep in that you know."

"With me?" Deidara turns to me, a wicked smile on his face.

I shove him off the bed. "Don't be stupid."

He yelps as he lands on the floor, hard. His head pops up. I have taken over the bed, sitting against the pillows.

"That was mean, un," moans Deidara.

"Who said I was nice?" I say disdainfully. "Are you going to get out now?"

Deidara hops on to the bed, dipping it in his direction. He sits cross-legged, staring intensely at me.

I feel uneasy, as though I am being studied. "What the hell are you staring at?"

"You don't seem like a suicidal patient," Deidara finally says.

"What?"

"I thought you would be different. Not so...normal, un," says Deidara carefully.

I snort. "Anything to get out of the nuthouse. The things we do for freedom."

"Oh." Deidara looks as if he finally gets it.

"We are constantly being monitored right?" I ask.

"Yeah. Makes me feel like a lab rat, un," remarks Deidara.

"Then, they're obviously not going to let me out if I look even the smallest bit suicidal, are they?"

"Un."

"So I'll pretend that I love life and I have absolutely no thoughts of suicide. Not that I was in the first place."

Deidara cocks his head, reminding me of an overgrown bird. "Good luck, un."

"I don't need your good luck."

"Yes you do. Especially since Itachi just heard what you said, un." Deidara points to the doorframe, where Itachi is leaning, a smirk on his lips.

I let loose a string of profanity. Deidara laughs. Itachi walks to the bed, waiting for me to finish.

"Damn you," I snarl at Itachi. The small, rational part of my brain tries to tell me it was my own fault.

"Not my fault."

I growl at him, falling into silent fuming. Deidara shrugs at Itachi. Suddenly Deidara brightens.

"Do you want to see my art, un?" asks Deidara excitedly. He bounces on the bed.

"Stop bouncing."

Obediently, Deidara stops. He gazes hopefully at me.

I sigh. "I thought Iruka said no."

"It'll only be a tiny one, un." He emphasized on tiny, holding his index finger and thumb millimetres away from each other.

Itachi snorts softly. "Your explosions are never small, Deidara."

"Maybe another time." I secretly hope that I will never see one.

Deidara looks downcast. "Why not now?"

"Because I don't feel like it."

We lapse back into silence. Itachi sits on the edge of the bed. I glare as the bed dips down to his side. I draw my legs up, hugging them close. The sleeves of my jacket slide up my arms a little.

"What's that, un?" asks Deidara suddenly. He leans forward, peering at my left arm.

I immediately pull my sleeves back down, but it's too late. Deidara has seen my bandage.

He pulls back, staring at me in surprise. "I didn't know that you cut."

I don't bother to correct him. Partially because I do cut.

Itachi shakes his head. "That's not a normal cut Deidara."

"Un? What is it then?" asks Deidara. He glances back and forth between me and Itachi.

"Its evidence of a suicide attempt," answers Itachi evenly.

Deidara gives a soft 'oh' of realization. I stare at the bed sheets, wishing I could disappear. I don't know why though. I have nothing to be embarrassed of. It wasn't meant for suicide.

"...Can I see, un?" asks Deidara tentatively.

"No," I snap. I pull my arms in, hiding them behind my legs. What kind of question is that?

"You cut too, don't you?" asks Itachi quietly. I look up and realize he saw the cuts on the other arm.

"Nothing escapes you, does it?" I ask wryly.

Itachi shakes his head. "Why do you do that?"

"Why the hell do you want to know?" I spit.

"Curiosity."

"What kind of a reason is that?" I ask venomously.

"I'm curious too, un," says Deidara suddenly.

I say nothing.

"I've never met anyone who cuts before, un," continues Deidara.

I feel myself slowly gathering anger.

"I mean, it's kind of weird isn't it? I heard people who cut are depressed or something?" Deidara turns to Itachi for confirmation. He shrugs.

The anger builds up, bubbling beneath the surface.

"Or maybe it's for attention, un," adds Deidara.

I crack. "Look, what the hell are you getting at? What's your bloody point?"

Deidara looks taken aback. "I didn't mean to offend you or- "

"So why are you yapping on about it?" I ask viciously, interrupting him.

He is quiet but I can still see him eying my arms. It's the same with Itachi, but it's more subtle. I heave a sigh. I suddenly don't care about it anymore. If they think I'm a freak, then they should know I'm a freak. I push up my sleeves and hold out my arms, one neatly bandaged and the other with even scars. I glare at them defiantly.

"Go on. Stare to your satisfaction. Laugh, scream, run away, do whatever you want. I don't care."

They both look a little embarrassed. Like I am showing a deep part of me that should remain hidden.

"You...did that to yourself?" whispers Deidara, staring at the red scars and gashes on my right arm.

I let out a hollow laugh. "Do you think I asked someone to do this to me?"

Itachi is silent. But I can tell he is uncomfortable.

"But...why...do you..." Deidara trails off hesitantly.

I shrug, feeling hollow. "That's for the therapist to figure out."

Flash!

I run blindly in the direction of the bathroom. Tears are blurring my vision. Rushing into the bathroom and slamming the door shut, locking it. I lean against the cool, tiled wall sliding down the smooth surface. Sobbing, I curl up, wiping my eyes roughly with the heel of my hands.

Tears keep falling. They splash against the cold floor.

I hear my parents shouting again. I cover my ears in an attempt to block out the noise. I shudder as I hear my father roar and my mother shriek. I feel the wall shake as my father storms up the stairs.The glass vase on the shelf in the bathroom falls and smashes. The pieces scatter across the floor and I flinch as a large shard lands close to me.

I can hear soft sobbing downstairs.

I hesitantly reach for the broken glass. I hold it, just staring. It seems to lure me, tempting me with an escape from a pain I can't deal with. I just hold it. Hesitantly, I move the sharp edge to the soft flesh of my forearm.I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I don't feel like I'm in control, I act on impulse, instinct.

In an instant, I have slashed my wrist. I know it wasn't deep but that didn't stop it from hurting like hell.

I bite my lip, watching the blood seep out, red droplets that join together to form a crimson line. The blood gathers in one spot and then rolls off, leaving a trail of red. There is something peaceful about watching the scarlet liquid trickle down my elbow.And I know I can deal with it. Everything else has been wiped away, leaving me, my blood and the pain of the cut.

The droplet splashes to the ground, joining tears and bits of dust. Another drop follows it.I stand up slowly, holding my arm out like an offering. I rip off some toilet paper and hold it to the wound. The blood soaks through. Fascinated, I add more and more toilet paper until the flow stops.I stand there for a while, unaware of anything other than the dulling pain and the smell of the blood.

Suddenly, I look around the room as though I finally recognise where I am. I begin to clean up the bathroom, leaving no evidence of what had happened. The glass is thrown away, the blood and tears wiped up.

But I keep the shard I used.

I shake my head, trying to clear it of the past memory. That had been a long time ago. My first cut, age 12. I start to pull my sleeves back down. I feel as though I had just made a big mistake. I had just bared my soul to almost strangers. I notice Deidara. He stares at the bandaged arm.

"What? You want to see this as well?" I ask mockingly. Warm recklessness rushes through me.

Deidara looks ashamed.

"Don't worry. I'll show you," I say reassuringly. I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I want to see the disgust on his face like I know he is feeling now.

I unwrap the bandage and thrust my arm in front of him.

"Look at it. Look at its ugliness. Look at what I did to myself," I hiss.

Deidara gazes at it. I will him to say something. Anything.

"Do you like it? Are you satisfied now?" I spit.

Deidara looks up, startled. He doesn't know what to say. I start to rewrap the bandage.

"What else do you want now? Hmm? What else do I need to show you, so you're satisfied?!" I ask, angrily.

Deidara shakes his head, hesitantly.

"Do I need to show you the rest of me? Will that make you happy?!" I finally shout.

Deidara is shaking his head frantically now, fear in his eyes.

"What do you want? My soul? Well how's this? I've already shown you my soul. I've shown you everything about me. It's in all of these scars. My whole life story. Are you happy now?!" I demand.

Itachi and Deidara are just frozen.

"What more could you want of me?!" I shout. I launch myself off the bed.

I don't know what I'm doing. I am only numbly aware of what is happening around me. Like I've separated from my body and my mind has retreated to a far corner. I make for the door. A cold hand grasps my wrist, firmly pulling me back.

"Let me go!" I demand.

Itachi does nothing; he just sits on the bed, his slender fingers holding my wrist.

"Let me go," I repeat in a strained voice.

He shakes his head. Itachi pulls on my wrist gently, motioning for me to sit down.

I try to jerk my arm back, struggling when the grip refuses to let go. I struggle uselessly for a few minutes before realising its futile. His grip is like iron. Hot anger floods through me again. I grab his hand with my other hand and try to pry him off. His other hand swipes at my mine and I swiftly move it out of reach.

"Let me go, you fucking bastard!" I hiss.

He remains stoic, red tinged eyes passive as he regards me.

I push forward against him, trying to reach his throat. Frustration builds as he seems to hold his ground, though he is struggling to stay like that. Suddenly, my free hand comes in contact with a soft, warm flesh. Triumphant, I try to push him back, pressing down on the throat. His other hand grabs my mine, holding it back from completely choking him. My heart is beating faster and faster, a sick kind of excitement.

"Stop!" I hear Deidara's scared voice in the background.

Itachi draws in a shallow breath and I begin to squeeze. My blunt nails dig into the soft flesh.

"Sasori, please stop!" cries Deidara, helplessly watching in fear.

Suddenly Itachi starts to push himself back up, a soft noise of discomfort escapes his lips. I can see I am losing ground. I let go of his throat, but he has now captured my free hand. Enraged, I pull back and throw myself at him, hoping to catch him off guard so he releases my hand. He cleverly swerves to the side, but has to let go of my wrists. I crash into Deidara and he is pushed off the bed for the second time along with me. We fall in a tangled heap of bodies and limbs. I grunt as a gloved hand collides with my face. Deidara yelps as my elbow digs into his ribs.

Itachi peers over the side with faint amusement. There is a dull red mark on his neck. I feel my heart calm down, like when a storm has passed.

"Get off of me, brat," I grunt, smothered underneath Deidara.

Deidara squeaks as my elbow almost jabs out his eye. I squirm out from under Deidara and pull myself up into a sitting position. Glaring furiously at both of them, I scowl darkly. But the tense atmosphere has been shattered. It's more relaxed and for some reason, I am grateful. Deidara begins to giggle a little. I am horrified when my eyes begin to water. My vision blurs and I furiously blink to try and clear away the almost tears.

I don't know why I want to cry. I squeeze my eyes shut and discreetly wipe them. Itachi watches us. A slight smile graces his lips.

"Come on. We've still got like, four hours to waste, un," says Deidara. He has stood up and is offering me his hand.

I heave myself up, ignoring the offered hand. "So what do we do?"

"Had a shower yet?" asks Itachi.

I frown. "I don't remember."

Suddenly the black-haired nurse bursts into the room. She is breathing heavily, hands on her knees as she tries to catch her breath.

"Is everything okay here? I heard screaming before..." says the nurse, casting a glance around the room for anything unusual.

"Oh, hello Itachi-san! I trust everything is alright then?" asks the nurse, looking relieved.

"Nothing wrong here, Shizune-san," answers Itachi simply.

"Okay, great. Sorry about the delay, Naruto's split personality took over. It was only for a few minutes but it took all we had to restrain him." Shizune smiles weakly.

"Damn. I missed it, un," complains Deidara.

"Well, if you're okay, I'll go now. See you!" Shizune waves before disappearing from the door.

"Why are you here?" I ask Itachi. "I didn't see you at the group therapy."

"I work here," replies Itachi dismissively. "It's complicated."

I don't pursue the topic. He has already closed it.

"Well, if you don't mind, I'm going to shower now," I say.

"I'll have to accompany you," says Itachi.

I stare at him. "Excuse me?"

Itachi rolls his eyes. "So you don't go and kill yourself."

"What am I going to do? Bludgeon myself to death against the taps?" I grumble scathingly.

Itachi smirks. "Unless you want to have a female nurse escort with you..."

"I'll come, un!" says Deidara, excitedly.

"Pervert. Why would you want to come?" I say, rolling my eyes.

"I got no one else to hang out with, un." He shrugs with half a smile.

"What are you going to do? Watch me shower?" I say sarcastically.

"I'll shower too!" says Deidara happily. "Un!"

"We are not sharing under any circumstances," I say. "I hope that's clear."

Deidara nods eagerly. Itachi gets up, a smile playing on his lips.

"Grab whatever you need. I'll get you both towels."

I nod and kick them out of my room. I grab a few items and walk out the door. I try to convince myself that I am not happy.

A/N: Ah, crap. I think that was 50 percent retarded, 20 percent confusing, 20 percent pointless and 5 percent plot. Does that add up? No it doesn't. That just provides how silly I think this part was. Hopefully, you have a more positive opinion. See any self-esteem? No? Well you're right because right now it's gone walk-about. If you happen to find it, deposit a little something in there. In the form of nice reviews? Please?

Okay, okay. I know that you know that deep down inside I am very happy about this fanfiction. But you could still send reviews. Now, I hope I have ranted long enough to convince you to review. If I get enough support I might turn this thing into a trilogy. What fun. And yes, I know, this was heaps shorter. About 1,000 words shorter. Sorry, but if I added another part to it, it would end up being 8,000 something to allow the story to flow smoothly. Forgive me.

On a serious note, if anyone has anything they want to see, suggestions, corrections or just a nice part of plot they would like in here, please tell me. This would be heaps good – especially the plot – as I have no specific plot outlined yet. Just a beginning, gradual revealing of happenings, maybe a few mysteries and the end. And I can't just make that the whole story, how boring would it be?

Oh, and if you do find my self-esteem and give it a nice gift, please send it back to me okay? No self-esteem means I might end up like Sasori here. Though, I assure you that low self-esteem was not the reason for his attempted suicide. Don't fret!

I will most likely update within a week. I like to have lots of chapters beforehand as I do a lot of checking and editing and cutting things out and adding ideas. And I currently only have 1 more 'ready to be posted' chapter waiting but I want to compare the next chapter with it.

Gee, this was long-winded.