Torturing….

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

Sakura's point of view.

Itachi-Sakura

----------

Torturing…

It pained my heart to see him stay here beside me.

It was as if my wishes had to be undone.

I don't know what to say.

I don't seem to be able to anyways

The sky doesn't seem as blue as it used to be in my eyes.

It hurt me all those times.

I can't be undone.

I can't be forgiven.

I have given him everything.

I have nothing to spare, nothing to feel.

My hands they feel so cold.

My face it seems so ethereal.

He has made me that way. Beautiful.

Am I a ghost of what I never wanted to have?

My lips, they fade in nightless sky.

You words ever hurt me.

Your wounds ever choke me.

Your love never seduced me.

Your eyes ever make me.

Your coldness ever consuming.

I think I might be dying.

I must keep my soul like a secret in my throat.

--------------

It had been so long since I had tasted freedom.

I feel jailed inside these starless skies.

An illusion but I just don't mind.

I'm afraid. Afraid of everything. It seems so consuming. The time I realize, it's draining me. I'm constantly locked in this field of flowers. I just can't open my eyes. Each flower holds an image, a memory; an entity.

My home has fallen into pieces. I have become the last of the kunochi. Forever locked in this place I will never dare to call home. It is so strange yet so familiar. It always depends on him.

Sometimes he brings me back to reality. He soothes my face and my long curled locks as he looks into my emerald eyes. He never says anything. He just looks at me. Sometimes he will let me walk around on my own free will. The spell he binds me to makes me do things mechanically, without thinking.

He doesn't frighten me anymore. He never again will. I have lost fear of reality, fear of all things known. I think he tortures me by jailing me in my own mind, because of my loss of caring what he does to my body.

Things are stranger in your imagination.

I still know nothing about him. Maybe I only know his full and complete body behavior. Maybe each and every trace and path in his skin. But he knows all about me. All I have to offer for him to know, all my mind shows, and what he has learned through others by torturing them. He always seems eager to learn everything about me.

His voice is very soothing, but his words are harsh, cruel, cold, and hollow when he speaks to others. When he speaks to me I can tell his words soften. He loves to cause me physical pain, and make me scream in anguish. But I am not afraid.

Sometimes I wonder why he keeps me here. Everything he does to me he could do to someone else. Maybe it's because I never complain, and I always meet his eyes, as he holds me in a lulling grasp, or as he rapes me, and violates me.

His voice has an appalling call to it. He speaks my name softly. And his tone lingers in my ears, as if he wants me to remember it, remember the sound of it, my situation, and to remember him.

He is the ruler of my self. But I don't care.

He makes it know at night when he violates me harshly. He keeps his numerous weapons nearby and causes me pain. He holds a kunai in his mouth on those nights and reminds me of the pain by the pinches and slashes of his kunai knife.

He hurts me physically little by little. It hurts me but it is not my kind of torture.

After a long night he swings me from the futon, and smashes me against the wall before getting his head down on a pillow and watches me.

I look back at him, my painful breaths coming out slowly. But it's not torture.

Then as always I reach out for my long and black kimono, and I wrap ir around my ivory skin. He keeps looking at me with his piercing gaze as I try to manage myself enough to reach for him.

My slanted steps hurt my every move. But it is not torture.

I arrive at his futon, and fall on my knees exhausted. He still keeps his eyes on me. I can tell they soften. I slowly crawl to his side, and when I see him looking at my eyes I smile.

I extend my wounded hand to reach for his face. But it is not torture.

I slowly caress him. My smile is still in place. His figure slumps surrendering to my touch, as his eyes visibly implore me to come closer to touch him, and to comfort his wounded, and troubled soul.

Are you allright now Itachi-kun? I smile, I love you. I speak smoothly, as he pulls me gently.

My heart aches and loves for his warmth. Undoubtedly, loving him is torture.