Weakness
::Sometimes she forgets things...::
Then she would wake up, a body dead at her feet, the lingering residue of a well-known intruder in her brain, and she would ask-
"How could you?"
And like a leaf, gentle, slowly falling to the ground in the back of her mind, a voice would whisper back, "He deserved it."
Deserved it…
Deserved it…
And the trees would rustle in a strong breeze around her, their voices chiming in, adding to the silent chaos.
" He was going to kill you."
"You had to live."
"Sakura, Sakura, weak, annoying, Sakura."
And her eyes would go hollow, her face slack, arms limp by her side, burning tears running down sallow cheeks. She would be grateful that she doesn't remember. She doesn't think she could handle it.
"Little girl," a nasty voice whispers in the darkness behind her eyes, "how will you survive if you cannot kill? Weak, stupid little girl."
And she hates it because they don't leave her alone. No rest, no peace, just the constant hum of them as they shove the truth into her face, painfully, torturously.
She will want to die soon.
Because she is strong, she will want to die. She is strong and thus the weakness eats her from the inside out, rotting her brain and heart, spreading through her chest and stomach, down her legs, up her arms, through her neck and head. She is infected with weakness and her strength can't handle it.
And so, when she wakes up one afternoon in the middle of the chattering, bright forest with another corpse at her feet, she will cry and scream and wish to die. Because she is strong, and that's what strong people do.
When they find her, she is shaking with shame, but smiling a weak, watery smile anyway, because the weakness is eating at her (though she is strong).
::...but she has to, if she wants to survive::