DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything that you will be reading.
Gaara pulled his knees to his chest and rested his chin on them. He wrapped his arms around his shins so that he was pulled into a ball, bathing in the moonlight shining in through his window and sitting in his room, if one would be so kind and naive to call it that. Gaara didn't have a room. He had more of a space, with no bed because he never slept, with his one window, and a small closet to hold his small amount of clothes. It was late at night, or perhaps early in the morning. His siblings were asleep, the lucky bastards, and he was left to lose his mind. It was on nights like this, when there was a full moon so close you could touch it, when Gaara's mental demons took form and took flight, flying out through his ears as he listened to horrible sounds no one else could hear, and through his eyes as they went bloodshot with psychosis, and through his nose and he breathed faster, and through his mouth when his fear became so extreme and prominent that his stomach acid found a new way to make him get sick.
He was still staring out of his window, staring at the moon, and at the houses across the street with the lights out, and at the rats scuttling across the roads. He knew that the rats only came out at night. He was one of the only ones that even know this. In Sunagakure, people took their sleep seriously. Except for him. Gaara didn't even need to know the meaning of the word. And it was his father's fault.
Gaara had been told more than once that he had no one to blame but himself for his horrible way of life. But he knew it was his father's fault. The man had ruined his trump card's sanity. But by ruining him, he had perfected him, by making him violent and unstable, ready to fight and wanting to kill. He had sealed Gaara's mother's soul inside the sand that was inside of his gourd, on his back as it always was. He had to kill to keep his mother's soul at ease. He had to soak the sand in the blood of those he killed. It made him stronger, and kept his mother happy. It didn't matter what he felt: hunger, fear, thirst, anything- if his mother's soul wanted blood, it was in Gaara's best interest to do so. And it had to be good blood. From someone who was strong. Or else...she got very angry with him. She hurt him. Like no one else ever could. He was to get his mother the insides and blood of another, soak the sand in it, and everything was peaceful with that. Gaara could be left to his misery.
He was so hungry. His stomach was making noises like a wild animal. His stomach felt cold, like the back wall of his stomach had folded in onto the front wall. The thought almost made him sick. He stood up and walked outside, looking around. An animal...a person...something. He needed blood. needed it. He was someone...a person...he wasn't sure who it was. But it turned out to be just an illusion of his own works, as his sand landed on the target, he came up emptyhanded. So he crushed the doorknob on someone's house and walked in. He found a ten year old boy inside. As his sand creeped around his neck, the boy opened his eyes and said, "The devil has come for me. To-san was right."
The words heightened Gaara's feeling of hate.
"I am not the devil," he said.
His sand tightened around the boy's neck, there was a snapping noise, and the boy's eyes lost all emotion to them. His parents reaction was beyond words as they walked in to see who was in their house. But Gaara quickly enveloped the boy in sand, crushing him, so that he could soak his sand in blood. Which he did, despite the screams of the parents. When his deed was finished, Gaara walked calmly out of their house and back to his own. He could hear the parents crying, even a few minutes later. It was still dark out, though the sky was growing lighter. He balanced on his toes in his room, his arms hanging down at his sides.
Suddenly, there was a horrible pulse in his head. It felt like his he was splitting open. His sand exploded out of his gourd and blew around the room. It was terrifying, painful, and strange to anyone but him. But it was more forceful than it usually was.
"Ka-san," he muttered, trying to keep himself quiet. "Please don't be so mad at me!"
But the pulsating only intensified. It hurt so much, he couldn't take it anymore. He was still muttering 'ka-san, please', but the pain wouldn't stop. He was reduced to the only thing he could do: screaming.
"Ka-san!" he screamed desperately. "KA-SAN STOP IT PLEASE!"
The sand whirled around the room furiously, going faster, Gaara was plunged into more pain.
"STOP IT I'M BEGGING YOU PLEASE JUST STOP IT!"
Gaara stood up, grasping his hair, his pupils becoming smaller and the whites of his eyes going insanely bloodshot. His head piveted on his neck from side to side, as he screamed.
"YOU DON'T HAVE TO GET SO MAD AT ME, KA-SAN!"
He fell into a wall, so that he was hunched over with his back at the door. Temari and Kankuro showed up, looking in at their brother. Kankuro was too afraid of his brother to go in and touch him. But Temari was the only gentle touch there, and she walked forward.
"G-Gaara nii-san?" she asked quietly. Gaara was still screaming. "It's okay, Gaara. Just relax."
But Gaara couldn't. He couldn't stop, it hurt too much. In that place where it had always hurt. He gripped his chest near his heart.
"KA-SAN, I'M SORRY!"
Kankuro couldn't take it anymore. "Gaara! Ka-san isn't here anymore, she died! When you were born she died!"
"Kankuro!" shouted Temari. "Shut up!"
A moment later the kazekage came up in the doorway. His face was emotionless as it always was. Temari and Kankuro fell silent and looked up at him. Gaara was still bent over in a corner, breathing deeply. The pain was stopping, but he was still murmering 'ka-san, I'm sorry' to himself.
"Gaara, be quiet," the kazekage said. "You're going to wake someone up across the street."
The youngest son slumped against the wall at his father's awful words and nodded. "Hai, kazekage-sama."
His father turned, his arms still folded, and walked back down the hall. Kankuro watched him go quietly, before turning to back to Gaara.
"See what you do, Gaara?"
He turned away and walked down the hall. Temari stood up and cast a long, sad glance at her younger brother before turning away and walking after him. Gaara watched them go. He didn't have a door, but he took out a kunai and threw it after them in a wave of hate. It flew into the sand wall of the house, and some of the wall crumpled and fell away. The kunai hit the ground with a clang.
"I know you're still here, ka-san. But why did you get so mad at me? I was a good boy, wasn't I? Was it bad blood? Too young?"
He shook his head. Anything for the pain to stop and fade away. He sighed.
"Gomen, ka-san. It won't happen again."