Still... not... here. Curse you Kishimoto sensei... This chapter was rewritten today, March 20, 2013.

Chapter 1: A Clean White Room

Of all the humans in the city, Gaara hated Sasuke the most. He was the reason that Gaara was home schooled, and the reason that the horrible scar over his left eye refused to heal.

So of course, it seems fitting that on his way back from the store, buying some eggs for Lovely Temari, that Sasuke and one of his many, many sheep would find him. They always found him. Always...

But never in the well-to-do Konoha District. Always in the slums where not another soul cared to save Gaara from Sasuke. Always amongst the dirty gray sidewalks and crumbling, filthy buildings did he find the red head, most often alone, and torment him, with only his minion and the uncaring, cold urchins of the street.

He had first tried looking down and hurrying past, but he felt the hard jerk on his hood, sending him tumbling back onto the pavement.

"What's your hurry, psycho?" that had been Sasuke's pet name for Gaara since before he was taken from high school. Every day without fail, "Psycho, pyscho, psycho!" It was the reason that Gaara's definition had been carved into his wall... and his memory.

"Psychosis..." he recited, automatically, checking the carton of eggs in his trembling fingers. Two were broken. "A severe cognitive disorder in whi-"

"Nobody cares!" Gaara's eyes snapped up, his mouth continuing of its own accord. "-which leaves a person's personality scrambled," Sasuke feigned a lunge at the miserable form. "C-causing any and all contact with reality and its inhabitants to become strained and impaired." The pink haired girl (ShEeP) latched onto Sasuke's arm wrinkling her pretty little face in disgust.

"He's soooo weird, Sasuke-kun." She wheedled, her voice whining and needy, holding his arm tighter as if the emaciated, exhausted boy in the baggy jacket actually frightened her. Gaara felt nauseous from the display. Shukaku did, too.

She gave an exaggerated squeal as the boy made a move to get up, gingerly clinging to the dripping carton of eggs. His sad green eyes lifted from his feet, his lower lip crunched tightly underneath his teeth. "Y-you broke two of my sister's eggs." he accused, softly. His tormentors, much to Gaara's misanthropic horror, began to laugh.

"Oh, I'm sorry." said Sasuke, that cruel smile still stapled to his Oh-so-perfect face. "I meant to break all of them." His hand shot out in a perfect ark and propelled the eggs from Gaara's trembling hand.

As the box exploded on the concrete, the voices started. "No!" he whispered, his eyes wide and searching for people who weren't there. "Noo! No! They're coming!" he shivered violently, holding his hands in front of his face, no longer paying attention to the laughing forms before him. The world began to swim, his breathing came in short, ragged gasps.

"Make them stop! Please, I'm begging! Make them stop. Shukaku, help!" his hands parallel to his ears, he began to pound his nails against them. "No! Be quiet! Shut up!" the girl had stopped laughing. "No! Stop, Stop, Stop, Stop!" his hands beat a rhythm to his cries, a thin trickle of sanguine fluid seeping over his hands.

"Sasuke," she whimpered, looking worried. "We should go, he's, like, freaking out." she tugged on his arm. "We could get in trouble." He shook her off, still laughing.

"I'm not so sure, Sakura? How much credibility could the little creep have?" Sasuke turned and gave the girl a condescending, reassuring smile. "No, they'll think that he dropped his eggs, heard voices, and had a panic attack. They have no proof. Right, Gaara?" he turned and thrust his open palm into Gaara's heaving chest.

An animamlistic howl of terror tore his throat. But his anger brought a certain amount of clarity to the voices. He'd never listened to them before, not fully. In this moment of excruciating humiliation and stress, he found that he could pick out phrases from the torrent. His hands dropped to his sides, turning his head blankly to the side to listen.

"Wastes of Space, The world would be better off without them You deserve vengeance destroy them, avenge yourself, Kill Them"

The last words resonated throughout his head.

Kill Him. Shukaku's presence was calm, rational, and commanding.

Gaara's lower lip shook. "I... "he whimpered, his hands still trembling. Shukaku's voice began to whisper. Its words were soothing.

"You don't have to kill him, then. Make him pay."

Eyes wide, a slow smile spread across his face. "Ye-yes." he looked up, still smiling that disturbing, grim, insane smile. His eyes held such malice, such hatred, such... psychosis, both of the teenagers took a step back. Gaara stood up, laughing. Laughing in short streams, quickly, unnaturally, hatefully. Laughing, Laughing, Laughing...

He took a step forward.

"You broke my sister's eggs." he giggled. "So... now I get to break your head? Is that fair? Shukaku says it is..." Sasuke's eyes narrowed haughtily.

"You think you can take me?" He made a move to shove Gaara back but Gaara stepped aside.

"No... But I can make you pay... right? Yeah, we think so." His illogical statement caused the girl to shriek, pulling out her cell phone.

"Hello, police?"

Gaara ignored her, running at Sasuke and slamming into him full force. His lanky frame hurt. His bony knees dug into Sasuke's thighs, his elbows cracking against his collarbone. "I hate you." whispered Gaara, slamming his fist into Sasuke's stupid, wretched, normal face. "I. Hate. You." he dug his sharp bloody fingernails into the thin tender skin underneath his eyes. "I. Hate. You!" Sasuke writhed underneath him, but Gaara was not done. He clambered onto Sasuke's stocky athletic body and punched him again, kneed his stomach, ripped at his hair.

The voices in Gaara's head had ceased their accusations, for now they laughed. An eerie chorus of voices rang out amongst the synapses of his mind, encouraging him to continue his assault. Shukaku did not contribute to the swirl of echoes, but Gaara could hear the silent smirk playing at his lips.

Sasuke gave a growl and kicked up, hitting Gaara in the stomach and sending him crashing into the pavement. There were little flecks of blood on the cement beside him, Gaara noted. More was coming out, connecting the dots. The voices took up the humming of some strange melody. Something calm and ambivalent… about nurses who loved their patients. Apples falling from your eyes while you slept….

He smiled, lightly: He liked the song. The other boy grabbed Gaara by the front of his hoodie and slammed him into the brick wall. Blood was trickling out of Gaara's head, matting his hair in the back. "You freak! Fuckin' psycho!" he snarled, slapping Gaara's face to the side. Gaara chuckled weakly: The voices were still singing. Sasuke grimaced and kneed Gaara between the legs, grinning with satisfaction at the low, pained cry. "Do I need to teach you another lesson?"

Gaara's eyes widened as he remembered...

Remembered Sasuke's pocket knife carving into his forehead, reopening the scar he had tried so hard to conceal. Remembered his father's gruff command and the feel of the bookcase under his slender back.

"Sure, I love you." he had sneered, steering the butcher knife along soft, pale flesh and crafting the kanji. "There. All the love you need." And the little boy had screamed, and the voices had…

Gone silent. "Love," Gaara coughed, feeling his stomach twist sickly. His words came slurred and distant. "Definition: A deep feeling of-"

"Oh, shut up!" Sasuke pounded Gaara's head into the wall behind him. Gaara's mouth fell open slightly, his eyes unfocused. There was a thin trickle of discharge oozing from his ears. The thin boy's insomnia rimmed eyes, an ostentatious manifestation of his hypnophobia , slid shut and his head tipped forward. The raven dropped him, stepping back to see Sakura shut her phone. "The police are coming..." she stated, stupidly.

Sasuke shrugged and wrapped his scraped arm around Sakura's waist, using his other hand to wipe the blood from his busted lip. "We don't know anything." She sighed, nuzzling her head into his shoulder. "You're so smaart. You think of everything..." she swooned, the two leaving the bloody mess behind.

The silence, like all good things in his young life, was short lived as the wail of ambulances replaced the gargle of voices.

Several hours later, Kankuro and Temari sat together outside the hospital room, waiting for the doctors to examine Gaara. Temari buried her face in her hands. "I shouldn't have sent him out alone!" she sobbed, her shoulders heaving.

Kankuro lovingly wrapped an arm around her shoulder, consoling, "No, you didn't know this would happen. Come on, don't blame yourself." She shivered slightly, and he rubbed his hand against her bare arm. Neither of them could escape the icy clutch of apprehension that had settled in their chests.

The doctor was silent for a moment, snapping his fingers in front of Gaara's eyes. His stared lethargically up at him, unblinking, silent, and unmoving. The boy licked his lips. "Are... Are Kankuro and Temari okay?" he croaked, pain choking his throat and burning his head. The doctor looked outside and nodded. "Oh." He breathed a sigh of relief, settling back into the white pillow. He examined the clean white room listlessly, taking in the pale curtains and the deep brown desk. A small black television was up on the wall, tiled floors reached from corner to corner, and he himself was surrounded by silver medicinal instruments, blue clad nurses, and the sea of rough, ivory sheets pooling around his scrawny frame.

The doctor gave Gaara a hard look examining the scars on his body. "Where did you get these?" the deep voice rumbled. The boy's eyes gazed off and he took some time to answer.

"The one on my head... from my father." he murmured, staring at the IV as it dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped... "The ones on my back from Sasuke and... them… the others." The IV's translucent fluid plipped, plipped, plipped... The doctor clucked his tongue.

"And the ones on my ears were from me." he smiled lightly, looking at the doctors face: Thick eyebrows over dark eyes, a square jaw with a prominent nose. His nametag said Baki. "I'm not a masochist though." he said, his face growing grave and sincere. "I did it because I wanted," he paused again. "I wanted peace and quiet."

"From?" The doctor maintained his casual demeanor, checking off a box behind the clipboard.

"Them…" Gaara was staring at something very intently, his eyes crinkled slightly as though it irritated him that they couldn't see… them.

An uneasy silence, as white as the room, settled over the crowd, like a fine mist. "Them?" the doctor asked, softly.

"The voices...They scream so loud, I just want it to stop..." He looked at the doctor pleadingly, then back to the wall. "They told me... if I slept... Temari and Kankuro would..." he bit his abused lower lip, stilling the violent shivering. The doctor shushed him soothingly.

"I'll send them in. I want to borrow them for a minute though, okay?" Gaara nodded, clutching the blankets nervously and watching the doctor go. He listened to a series of sounds from the bed beside him, watching with slight disinterest as the patient beside him vomited into a bucket. Drip, drip, drip...

"Sabaku-san?" he asked, addressing the worried blond.

"Yes?" she sprang up. "How is he? Is he okay?" Kankuro controlled himself, his face passive, but he held the same nervous energy in his own eyes.

"He's fine..." said the doctor, slowly. "You can take him home tomorrow, but you should know, he has a concussion and several deep gashes." The two sighed, clasping each other in a relieved embrace. "But..." the two stopped staring at him wide-eyed. The doctor faltered... what a sad little family.

"What? What is it?" Kankuro's voice wavered.

"He's... I think he should be committed."

Gaara watched the doorway anxiously. "He lied to me... he lied to me..." he whimpered, rocking back and forth. Tears began to leak down his face. "Kankuro, Temari I'm sorry! I couldn't get the eggs and then I went to sleep. You died! It's all my fault!" he began to breathe quickly, his chest heaving as it had before. The world began to swim... until the door opened and his siblings began to enter. His vision shifted, righted itself. Kankuro pulled a chair over to Gaara's bedside and Temari rushed over and enveloped him in an embrace. She smelled of incense, and shampoo, and soap... of home. He inhaled deeply, leaning his head against his sister's shoulder. "Oh, oh, it's okay!" she sighed. "You're okay." Gaara's eyes filled with guilty tears.

"Onii-chan," he moaned, sorrow coloring his voice. "I'm sorry. I bought the eggs, and then, then S-sasuke! He broke them all. Every one of them!" he shivered. Temari chuckled and pulled back a bit.

"No... no it's okay. I don't care about the eggs. I'm just glad you're okay." he smiled uncertainly. Kankuro leaned over and ruffled his hair, carefully avoiding the white bandages holding his throbbing head together.

"How'd it happen?" he asked, softly. Gaara looked down.

"I got in a fight." he whispered. He peeked up through his crimson bangs, noting that Kankuro and Temari's faces had tightened.

"With who?" whispered Temari, her eyes filling with tears.

"Sasuke! But. But! He broke your eggs! And... and then... Shukaku said I should get even..."

"Who's... who's that Gaara?" asked Kankuro, his voice catching slightly.

"One of... of the voices...I told you about him!" Kankuro nodded, eyes distant. The two were still, their faces blank, their mouths tight. Then, Kankuro smiled and reached below, drawing out a bag. Gaara's eyes widened with a childish confusion. "You... you brought your tools?"

Kankuro smiled and shook his head, preferring to reach into the bag rather than to explain. His rough calloused hands, the hands of a carpenter, a toy maker, came back out with a small brown haired figure. "Since you mention Shukaku, I thought I'd show you my latest project." the doll was a miniature replica of Beloved Shukaku.

"How did you-?" Kankuro smiled, handing the figure to Gaara who eagerly snatched it from his fingers. "It looks just like him..." he hugged it to his chest, reaching out to his brother.

"It's not quite finished." Said Kankuro, smiling lightly. "I still need to even out the colors and the texture. It's still pretty rough." He scratched the back of his head modestly. "Maybe, when you get home, we can work on it together."

Gaara had never once accepted a hug from Kankuro. Kankuro reminded him too much of his father and his father never hugged him. So instead, Gaara would reach out and brush his fingers against Kankuro's, and maybe clasp his hand. Today was special: He clasped Kankuro's strong hand underneath his thin brittle fingers. He felt every callous on Kankuro's palm, traced every vein that stood out against the healthy skin, squeezing very, very lightly.

There was a very gentle moment of peace between the small family, until Gaara noticed the tension hiding in the silence.

The two siblings sighed, both seeming very, very anxious. A low whispering started up in the back of Gaara's mind sending a chill down his spine. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice terribly quiet. The two looked at each other.

"Well, um..." She gave a shuddery sigh. "Gaara. We need to talk about, ah..." Temari wrung her hands as she spoke the words, her spunky smile gone, replaced by a look twenty years too old for her. "Well..." she looked at Kankuro desperately.

"We want to talk to you about Shu-" he stopped. He wouldn't give it a name, that gave it a form and form gave it reality. "Y'know, them." Gaara's mouth twitched, his eyes narrowing.

"You... you think I'm crazy too?" he demanded, his hands shaking from the force being exerted on the doll.

"No! No!" Temari cried, gently pressing her fingers into the air before her, as if there were some transparent wall between them. "Not at all, we're just concerned about the voices and... What they're saying." Kankuro nodded in agreement, seeming totally unfazed by Gaara's accusation.

"Then, why, why do we need to talk?" his voice was quavering, blood pumping quickly through his veins.

"Well, we think you should go to a... um..."

"A treatment center." said Kankuro, softly, picking up where Temari cut off.

The voices grew louder. "You... expect me to believe that?" His eyes narrowed to slits, his fingers skittering nervously against his lap. "Bullshit. You think I'm psycho!" his voice rose considerably, causing the people next door to fall silent.

"No!" the two siblings spoke together, sensing the deterioration of the situation.

"You're Lying! I know you are!" he flung the doll at Kankuro's head, ripping the IV needle from his hand. Blood gushed everywhere. The voices grew to a deafening pitch, and he realized with horror, that he could make out what they were saying again. Just like before. They were saying such cruel things about his siblings, his siblings... he loved them, loved them, loved them...

The "noble" traitor and the pretty little liar, the worms want to send you away. They hate you and they always have…

Gaara let out a strangled sob, bringing both hands to his ears. "Stop! Don't say that! Leave them alone!" Kankuro had gone out to hail a nurse, Temari raced to Gaara's side, desperately trying to soothe him.

"Gaara, please! It's okay. We love you!" Gaara clawed at his ears, ignoring her entirely. "Get these wretched things out of my head!" his ears burned with pain as he raked the abused flesh with his sharp nails.

"Please! Temari! Kankuro! Help me please!" he sobbed his eyes wild and frantic. "I don't want to do this anymore!"

The doctors came rushing in, Baki holding a syringe filled with an acidic green fluid. Gaara gave an unearthly shriek upon seeing the needle, hearing a particularly frightening suggestion from the flurry of screams. Baki stepped forward calmly, easily and grabbed Gaara's flailing arm in a vice like grip. "Let go of me! You're trying to kill me!" his voice cracked from the strain. "Shukaku says so! I, I can't... I can't I..." the needle broke the skin, releasing the sedative into Gaara's bloodstream. He whimpered in fear, the voices still there, but growing dimmer as though someone were slowly shoving cotton through his ears, the soft fabric perforating his ear drums and soaking up the bloody sound. His last thoughts before the blackness settled over him struggled to adhere.

"I'm sorry…"

The last thing he saw was Temari sobbing into her hands, and Kankuro brushing the doll off as he placed it back into the bag. To take it home. To finish it, with his unstable little brother.

The next day, Gaara left the hospital, clinging tightly to his sister's hand. They chose not to speak about the events of yesterday, in spite of the knowledge that all of them shared.

Gaara was leaving one white room, this clean silver and white room, to enter another. Very Soon.

That's that. Please read and review! Hopefully it's better this time around. If you can guess the song I referenced you get a cookie.