-Nonchalantly- Hello, dear readers -sarcasm
Forgive me, but I'm a little out of it... I have been for the past week or so... Severe changes in hormones a few days out of every month coupled with cold winter weather do not aid in my personal battle to keep my mental and emotional health in check.
Once again-in my depressed mood, or just not happy- I see how different I am from other people my age. ONCE AGAIN I see the failures and missteps I have taken throughout my entire life. ONCE AGAIN I see how almost futile it is to keep going. ONCE AGAIN I question my worth. And, ONCE AGAIN. I fear the worst. And it usually is reality.
This story... It probably won't end well... First chapter: 15+ pages.. These recent chapters? Barely 3 or 4 pages... How lame is that? And I bet my writing style has become sloppier and vaguer with each sentence written. I feel inadequate. But of course, that is up to the fans reading this. If there are any... I just don't understand... How can the first chapter get like, over 1000 hits, and then the 2nd chapter get ... 800 hits? What did I do wrong to lose those 200-some potential readers? It bugs me, a nagging in the back of my head that somehow I turned people off. I thought Chapter 1 was PERFECT and all the rest after it were crap. I sincerely believe Chapter 1 is GOLDEN.. Don't agree? Well you suck.. -Again, bitter, bitter me talking here.
So read this... I'll be waiting for your reviews... Blah blah blah.. (trudges to bed and hugs stuffed dugong)
"Let's get a few things straight."
Miko looked up from her hands. The woman named Konan was sitting on a chair. His chair. At his desk. She was sitting on his chair. That was not her chair. It was his chair.
" I'm not very good at taking care of children, not being a mother myself. And I have things to do other than be your babysitter, but since Deidara asked this favor of me, I will do my best to fulfill his wishes." Konan stared at the girl, who didn't seem to hear her. Her mind was off somewhere else. Deidara had mentioned that she was a little...what was that phrase he used? 'A space cadet', whatever that meant.
She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed, continuing on: " I will be gone a good chunk of the time. But understand that I have the same duties, if not more than, Deidara has. That is the only reason. I am not merely shirking my obligation to take care of you because I don't like you. I don't even know you. Understand?"
A delayed jerk of the kid's head was her only reply to Konan's words.
"I guess you do understand. Good." Konan narrowed her eyes slightly. The girl was tugging at the teddy bear's arms one at a time with both hands. Clenching the paws in her little fists nervously.
"Has he fed you any breakfast?"
She lifted her head up and looked at her with wide eyes, as if startled by the question. The woman didn't know why. Surely she must be hungry.
She received a shake of the head as her answer.
So Deidara completely forgot about that small but crucial and necessary part of this child's daily routine. He didn't even bother to feed her before setting out. Typical of men to think of the big picture but not the small details.
"Oh well, I guess that is the first thing to do." She lifted herself out of the chair with a soft creak and turned towards the door.
"I'll be right back. You eat soft foods, right?" Didn't wait for an answer. It was a rhetorical question anyways. Muttered more to herself, in reality. "I'll get you some yogurt and milk, how does that sound?"
The girl hugged the bear to her cheek and nodded slowly, staring at her with wide, doe eyes. It was sad in a sense. Those eyes were meek without needing to be.
And Konan knew those eyes, because she herself was wearer of that expression, of that face, a long time ago. Before she had been saved.
When the door had closed, the hysteria that had been quietly building up within the child escaped in a long, drawn-out moan.
I want him...
"Are you telling me you can't feed yourself?" Miko refused to look at the woman from the incredulous tone presented in her voice when she posed the question to her. She was ashamed of herself. And why not? Miko knew she was stupid and useless. Why even bother to feed herself? She would just mess up her nice dress that Deidara had so generously bestowed upon her. Waste food that would be better put to use filling up his tummy.
Konan shook her head and set the yogurt cup on the desk, spoon sticking straight out like an impaled eating utensil. Really, what in God's name was Deidara doing with this child? From the limited details she had been given, the woman surmised that the girl had been seriously neglected, and yes, neglect in early life can prevent one from developing as quick as a normal person, but still...
There was always time to learn and to catch up. It seemed to be that he hadn't even thought of that idea in the first place. To actually help the kid along in the areas she lacked experience and talent in. Diaper changing? This Miko girl was already growing out of her toddler years, despite her scrawny size. The best thing for her was to restart her education and the ways of life and to do it as steadily and repetitively as possible so that she could pick up the skills in due time. Rewards and positive encouragement and all that.
It wasn't medical ninja training.
Konan sighed and placed her hand on the girl's shoulder. The sudden movement—though it was as indirect as possible—made her jerk up and stiffen like a frightened cat.
"Easy, little girl, easy..."
Miko looked directly in her eyes. They were brown.. Almost... golden-like... And they were serious eyes. She knew she could not win this lady over and avoid pain by mere "cuteness". No. Her eyes had some sharp shield reflecting in them, something that prevented familial attachment to anyone else after a certain limit.
The girl had already lost the battle at this point.
"Your name is Miko, right? Don't get yourself worked up. It's alright. I'll feed you... Open up."
Numbly, Miko swallowed her food. Numbly, she drank her milk. Numbly, she sat herself in a corner for "play time" and began hugging the bear to her chest until she thought she could squeeze the air out of her lungs all by herself.
"There is something very wrong with this child." Konan thought as the woman watched the girl sway in an undesignated rhythm.
But what could she do? Whisk her away to an orphanage? For one thing, Deidara would no doubt have a tantrum at the idea; she could tell how close the two had grown, even if it was a one-sided relationship on his part. And orphanages weren't the happiest or most hopeful of places for someone like her to live in. Not at all.
In the end, there was nothing to be said or done that wasn't an awkward pat on the head, a diaper change, a treat of some crackers, and a muttered good-bye.
"Deidara, are you sure you have enough clay to take on the one-tail jinchuuriki?"
The sand blew across the golden dunes of the Land of the Wind as two conspicuously dressed missing nin trudged across the long stretch of desert to their targeted destination. The Sand Village.
"Of course, Danna. Even a small clay bird is enough art to take down this beast, yeah."
Sasori was mobilized in his Hiruko puppet, a scorpion-like model with wide spread arms and legs that slid across the sand like a snail, or perhaps a sort of lizard, next to his blond bipedal partner. The older artist scoffed at Deidara's hip. "Don't be so cocky. It'll get you killed one day."
"I'm not afraid to die if it means going out with a bang, un."
Within his puppet creation, Sasori was shaking his head. This kid...he didn't even begin to understand how precious life was. To trade it as easily as that, for his art? Foolish. Absolutely foolish. The red-haired Sand nin would love to rid the world of such naïve and misguided idiots that ran amok in this world, claiming to know what art really was, when in reality they couldn't be farther from the truth.
"Ah, I see it, yeah."
The towering sand-battered walls that surrounded the Sand Village were emerging into view. Almost there; then the real mission would begin.
If everything went according to plan—and Sasori knew it would—his sleeper agent would have woken up from his little "nap" and dispatched the troublesome lookouts that guarded the gates.
When the two Akatsuki finally sidled up to the entrance, they were unsurprised to find that their tool had done his job with hundred percent efficiency.
"Do you know who I am?" Sasori asked, quite unnecessarily in Deidara's opinion.
"Yes. Master Sasori."
"Nice job you did here, kid." Sasori shifted his eyes to his partner as the blond examined the carnage littered around the walls. Calling the kettle black here, aren't we, Deidara? Yura was a few years older than the brat himself.
"This way, please."
"Alright, yeah."
Deidara hopped upon the clay creation he had just made, a white bird ten times bigger than he. He turned back to give his Danna one last cheek.
"How do you like it, Danna? Pretty cool, hm?"
"Fine, fine, just make sure to meet me back at this spot after your mission is completed. We're on a tight schedule, Dei-da-ra.."
His reply was a cocky smirk, one that revealed so much of the bomber's hotheaded leanings and overzealous attitudes towards combining his "art" with overkill-victory. And not to mention his tendency to be a bit of a show-off when things turned to his favor early in battle.
And with that, the Rock nin was aloft in the air, soaring above the geometrically-placed houses whose pathways and streets Sasori knew grudgingly all-too-well. It would be a hidden blessing if Deidara were to bomb a few apartments out of sheer enthusiasm.
Deidara's mind readily forgot about Miko during his 15-minute flight through the orange-tinged sky.
His mind was blank of all but the mission. Of the jinchuuriki he and Sasori were tasked to capture. Of the inevitable battle that may suddenly begin in one minute, five minutes, ten minutes, thirty, an hour, three hours, five...
As he detonated the three spiders attached to the faces of those stupid Sand lookouts Deidara's blood was by then roaring in his ears. It was screaming with every bang, boom, and blast that emitted from his art. Beautiful art that sprayed earth and blood so exquisitely together in raindrops and splatters, with colorful smoke and sparks all the while.
If someone were to ask him at this time how Miko was adapting to her new home, he would've drawn a blank face and ask, a little irritated from being distracted from his current "project":
"Who?"
If that same person were to press upon the subject even further, saying something along the lines of "Miko, that little girl you're keeping with you?" his reply, even more bemused but (thankfully) less aggravated, would have been, "Don't know what you're talking about. You talkin' about those shrine maiden mikos? I've never met any personally, but let me tell ya—those outfits they wear? Pretty damn cute, hehe..."
"Miko, come over here."
The Konan lady had come back. She had been sitting in his chair for what seemed like forever, but Miko had been too occupied sitting in a corner and rocking herself to notice or care. A method of soothing herself, since she had to go without his touch for now. Perhaps forever.
"It is very important. Won't you please at least listen?" Miko's hands balled into fists. She was already disappointed in her. For not obeying. Stupid stupid stupid stupid girl...!
All Miko wanted was Deidara. Even if she was not inclined to jump into his arms should he return, his presence would be a relief; something to calm this buzzing, headachey psyche she currently possessed. And even if he were to brush her aside and claim "Quiet-Alone-Time" for himself as an excuse for her to not approach him, that would be alright, too.. It would all be alright. Anything would... She just wanted...to see him again... Just...see him.
It hurts...
Miko let out a sharp note when she felt a stranger's hand on her head. Hair-pulling, punching, pounding slapping. No more... Stop...No...
"Miko...Miko calm down, it's me.. Calm down..Calm...down."
It was no use.
'This child...she's mentally ill. She needs a doctor, not a barely-twenty-something outlaw with a penchant for pyrotechnics.'
Miko began to cry softly in the Konan lady's arms. She didn't want her. She didn't even want Deidara. No. She needed him. Her chest had been aching ever since he left three days ago, and now the pain had begun to tighten into a burning ball that danced in her lungs, constricting her windpipe, cutting off all air supply which quickly lead to her mind reeling out of near-hysteria.
"You pitiful thing. You really miss him, don't you? He'll be back in a few days..." Her hair was being stroked lightly, mechanically. The action did not have the same warmth and feel like when Deidara did it. No emotion, no caring, no affection. Cold and fake. Worse than no touch at all.
"But I have to tell you something...You don't have to look at me, just listen. Deidara and I—hm, you're interested in this information now? Very well, that's good. The two of us will rendezvous with the other members of Akatsuki and we will have to do a …. 'ritual'. This ritual will require three straight days of constant chakra flow from all active members, so you'll be alone for those three days. I expect you not to get into anything while I'm gone, and not to make a mess of things until Deidara returns.."
She was leaving? Leaving Miko all by herself?
It didn't matter. She'd be a good girl and sit in the corner and wait with an empty tummy and a dirty diaper and droopy eyes and a tear stained face and a mouth full of broken teeth and a teddy bear with black beady eyes for him.
She'd wait for him. She had waited all her life for someone—anyone—to pay attention to her, to actually care a little, to feel "love" even if it was fleeting or faked; and now that that person who did all those things was to be absent for only a few more days, Miko felt no reason to be impatient. She would wait however much longer it was to be. Longer.
"It'll be alright. You'll be fine alone, won't you? I'll give you pre-made meals for those days: breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I'd trust you wouldn't eat those all at once. And we've been toilet-training you for these few days, so you can put those new skills to good use. Wouldn't Deidara be surprised when he comes home to find no dirty diapers to change?"
Surprised. He'd be surprised. Yeah...very surprised. It would be a way for Miko to show him that his hospitality was not being taken for granted. He would relinquish one of his harrowing tasks unto her: diaper-changing-turned-potty-duty. He would be proud. But Miko didn't let herself think that with too much conviction; there was always a chance that it wouldn't put even a dent in his list of labors devoted to keeping her satisfied.
Miko clenched her fists. She was such a burden to him... It hurts...
Konan sighed. She had long ceased and desisted with her petting. No getting through to this child. She was a locked door that had no key, let alone keyhole.
"I'll be going now. Before I leave for the three day absence I will deliver to you your food. Until then, farewell."
And with the shutting of the door, Miko was isolated once again.
Alone...
Looking up at the ceiling for long enough, Miko felt herself floating up towards it. Like her soul was a magnet. Floating up to the ceiling... if she thought hard then she could imagine it to be like the thick surface of water. Grey and nearly-impenetrable, but she would push through. And then.. what would happen? What would happen if the gray surface broke? Would she see the sky that she had heard so much about from Deidara's stories of flying? Would she see a black void, the edge of the world? Her world?
She still knew so little about what was out there... What was out there? Was there anything at all? Did he go anywhere? Did he just step out of the room and wait in a different room until he felt like returning? Were these tales of the outside a lie? Was the window to the outside world an illusion? Was she really here? Or was she still back in her room servicing a customer? Did "Daddy" even exist as well? Did she even exist?
A blur slowly came into view. Fingers...nails...skin...gray..white...it was a hand. Her hand. Why had she lifted it up?
Flex, flex...How does that work? Squeeze... Who controls this hand? Me? Or someone else?
A gradual flowing sensation just below her navel signaled that she needed to use the bathroom. The Konan lady had taught her to listen to her body's "warnings" when the time came for it to remove its waste. After a few mistakes, she had gotten the hang of it; it really wasn't so hard, and it was much better than waiting for someone to change her out of the smelly mess she would have to sit in for many hours, at times. She was the master of her bowels. She chose whether to hold it in or to relieve herself. And now that she had the tools necessary to enact that will...
Miko hoisted herself up on the toilet. The light in the bathroom was off, but she left the door open wide, letting the natural light of the day in the bedroom to flood in. She knew where everything was, anyways. She had taken a good look during her baths and her potty training to figure out where the soap and towels were, the most secure-looking grooves and edges in the cupboard artwork that could be best used to heave herself onto any higher-than-she platform (like say, the sink).
She lifted the hem of her dress, bunching it in her fists so that it wouldn't get wet. And after a small exhale, she let her bladder go.
The tinkling was the only sound in the world. It was just her in this empty place. But right now it wasn't lonely. She forbidden herself awhile ago from thinking of him. It would only make everything worse. She would never get to sleep, never have the drive to eat her meals or go to the bathroom. It was counter-productive, at best.
At last she was done; she wiped herself and dropped the damp paper into the toilet. She slid off, pulled up her "little pants" and reached over to pull the lever. Then she quickly covered her ears, for the roaring of the white porcelain monster as it sucked up her pee hurt her ears and set her on edge.
She laid back down in her respective spot on the floor, but not before retrieving a pillow and a blanket from the bed. One reason she declined to sleep in the bed—as was its main function—was because 1) she was too short to hoist her leg up onto the mattress for even the smallest bit of leverage, and 2) what was the point? He wouldn't be in the bed with her; it would just be a cold, empty space beside her. No one to warm her up and to whisper sweet things in her ear while she drifted off to sleep.
Not that she needed that stuff. No. She didn't need it. She'd keep telling herself that until she was convinced that it was true. All that he did. She didn't need it. No. They were all treats for her, gifts, favors, anything but mandatory.
She didn't need clothes.
She didn't need a toilet (or a diaper change, for that matter).
She didn't need sweets.
She didn't need smiles.
She didn't need hugs.
She didn't need laughs, or words of encouragement, or "thank you"s, or blankets, or pillows, or stuffed animals, or or or or...
Or attention...
Small baby hands gripped and tugged at the blanket thrown carelessly over her prone person.
She didn't...need this...
She wanted this... that's it... she wanted it...which meant that she... could do without it... he didn't need to go to all this trouble... No... He could always stop... so why didn't he stop? He was wrong... she didn't .. need... any of this...
Miko sat up suddenly. Something was screaming in her ears. Telling her to do what must be done.
And she obeyed.
She threw "her" pillow across the room, where it landed just a few feet away with a soft whump! along with "her" blanket. It too flopped through the air, then floated semi-gracefully near the discarded cushion.
"Her" dress came off soon afterward in a whirlwind of cloth and lace. Next "her" socks... Throw that on the Pile of Greed and Selfishness...
Then the teddy bear, and what else? Was that everything? Everything that made her owe him? She didn't owe him anything. She didn't want to owe him anything. She wanted to be free of guilt for once in her life. Just be able to do something without the gnawing anxiety and constant looking-over-her-shoulder for any authority who dare catch her in the act. Whatever act that may be.
Miko suddenly realized how cold it was in there. Cold and lonely. She looked down at herself. Her scars were plain in the daylight. Clearly printed on her skin, reminders of her past transgressions. Her crosses to bear. Her reminders. Her failures. Her teachers. Her lessons.
And in a sense, she was grateful to all those men. Very grateful. She was a learned child. Very learned in the ways of the world. How being greedy earns you a punch in the gut and a finger in a very painful place. How crying just annoys everyone and they'll be less likely to show you sympathy the next time you're hurt. How whining for food and clothes and toys and a hug is just selfish and you should keep your head down and be happy for what you get, and if you don't get anything, serves you right.
And he was undermining all of that knowledge. All of those rules. It wasn't fair that he could just whisk her away and tell her that what she knew wasn't right and it wasn't moral and that she deserved better than that. He didn't know her like she knew her. He didn't know how naughty she had been in that room. She..deserved..all of these owies..All of them and more.
Miko wiped her face.
It wasn't fair.
Mama...
Oooh! More complaining! I have to put this somewhere. I don't even care if you read.. but please do if you like to feel sorry for me and my whininess and try to connect.. "OMG I know how you're feeling" No you doooon't. I'm sorry but you don't... It sucks when people say that... Aren't my emotions unique to no one else but me? What does that mean if someone can relate.. That means that your feelings are general and can be synonymous with someone else's suffering or plight. But is that just my cultural upbringing speaking? That the "be unique, be number one, stand out" is so ingrained in my subconscious that I balk at any attempts to connect with others... Maybe it's got nothing to do with my unwillingness-or my inability, more like, to empathize with others and give a damn about their "hardships".
And while we're on the subject (or off.. PREPARE THE TANGENT), god damnit, I HATE those "punk", "super nonchalant" "edgy" people who just blog and complain about shit like "GOING OFF TO SCHOOL WITH ALL THE OTHER SHEEP.. BAAAA" Oh give me a BREAK. Sheep? Like everyone in America is a mindless consumer? Way to generalize, BITCH! -Huffs and puffs- Haven't..eaten..in ... two days... I'm gonna lay down now.. But yeah.. I hate "punk" edgy people like that...
Jesus effing Christ (I can speak my "Lord's" name in vain because he would love it that I think of him as so holy that his very name is a curse.."SAM FINNIGAN!" Now someone named Sam Finnigan is feeling good about himself because I used his name as a curseword... anyways) Here's an idea. Why don't you get off your nihilistic, misanthropic, emo-judging-others-for-enjoying-their-lives-SOAPBOX and do something to CHANGE that. You can't? Well boo hoo, that's just how the world works. Instead of complaining about people who're so inclined to buy the new shiny gizmo for their dog (or a cellphone FOR their dog), or shoes, or Fast food, how about you put your head in those books and study on Global Issues and stop focusing on your own country. It's all about you-you-you, isn't it? "My country sucks... everyone in my country's an idiot" WELL BE GODDAMN LUCKY THAT YOU CAN SAY THAT SHIT ON THAT BLOG THAT IS ORIGINALLY FROM THAT COUNTRY!
SORRY FOR RANTING. BUT I NEED TO PUT THIS SOMEWHERE :/