"Deep inside where nothings fine

I've lost my mind"

Secrets

It's biology class. Sakura can't help but stare at the spot where the new student will sit. Her eyes travel to the window beside her and she wonders when she'll be free. She wishes to be the clouds, the birds, or just vanish. Vanish from this hell called life. After the first day, she and her classmates will receive a slip of paper regarding where they will be sitting. A girl named Ami glares at Sakura, and whispers to her friend, Ino. They giggle, and Orochimaru-sensei snaps at them, hissing with his snake-like tongue. Sakura tries to hide her small smirk but fails, earning a dark scowl from Ami.

~After class~

"He's mine, bitch. You better stay away. Not like he'd notice you anyway," Ami growls, baring her pretty white teeth.

"No."

The word comes out almost too soft for anyone for anyone to hear, but Ami catches it, along with the silent steel underneath.

"What did you say, forehead girl?" A question, waiting for the answer to unleash the beast inside.

"No," Sakura breathed, louder this time, raising her chin.

The beast struck.

Pain.

Hot, blinding pain.

It's all Sakura can remember.

It pummels her face.

Her stomach.

Her bones.

The only color she sees is

Red.

Bright. So so bright against her fading world.

Voices are slurs.

Colors are leeched.

And secrets are kept

Deep down inside.

Where her world

is a beautiful lie.

A cruel, lovely hand grabs a fistful of her unsightly hair, proof of the secrets that leech through every empty smile, every forced laugh, and every broken friendship. Through her daze of endless agony, Sakura could see a blur of violet and brown.

"Ami! Cut it out!"

"Stop! Can't you see you're hurting her?"

Voices.

Sakura doesn't know where anymore. She doesn't know why. All she wants is to be

Free.

She can feel someone carrying her. Her empty green eyes are closed, a curtain drawn over the window of her long broken soul. Strong, sturdy arms are wrapped around her, an elegant hand cradling her head. Sakura savors the scent of smoke and mist and unnamable cologne that surrounds her. The rustle of fabric reverberates in her ear and she can feel the stranger's warm, uneven breath kiss her forehead. Savor it. Savor it. Savor it.

If you don't, it slips away like all things tend to do.

A rush of voices, smooth, deep, high, and jagged rushed past, leaving Sakura with only a wisp to cling on to. She's floating in darkness, a place where it's forever quiet and she's forever alone. A place for liars and mask-makers like her. Sakura decides she likes it. A place where she won't have to hide won't have to run, because of the secrets she keeps and the things that hurt her. Maybe she'll stay here, where depression and anorexia can't touch her. Maybe she'll let go to the thread she's clinging so desperately to. After all, what is a thread worth? But a strong hand with many callouses and long, slender fingers reach out to her. It tugs, hauling her back, back to –

Sakura gasped, air filling her lungs as her hand flew to her chest. Her eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the near unbearable brightness of the hospital room. A blurred figure is leaning over her. As her vision clears, she stares in wonder at the beautiful man before her.

His soft, feathery hair was blacker than any color she'd encountered. It fell over his forehead, not quite shading his eyes. The stranger's smooth porcelain skin was stretched over taut muscle that was apparent under his tight ink-black shirt. Beautiful, onyx eyes stared into hers. She marveled at its color, at how the ebony faded into navy-blue, and how the silent ice in those lovely eyes seemed to thaw when he gazed at her. She breathed deeply, and the scent of smoke, mist, and cologne filled her nostrils. From his raven-black hair and dark, dark eyes, she knew him to be Uchiha Sasuke.

"Hn"

Sasuke's voice was quiet but smooth as honey.

Sturdy yet elegant hands clasped over her own, guiding her hands back down to the bed. Sakura felt heat rising in her cheeks as she blushed, realizing she unconsciously reached out to him. Suddenly, it dawned on her that nothing but cool air encircling the cruel, sadistic display of cuts along her boney wrists. Quickly, Sakura shoved her hands and forearms underneath the blanket, out of view. Sasuke narrowed his eyes, but to Sakura's relief, said nothing.

At Sakura's house.

The slightly worn house was empty; empty of booze and strange men, and empty of her mother. Sakura breathed a sigh, and sought out her room. She entered, and the sight of her room made her cringe. The bed was still unmade; her single pillow was tangled beneath a thin linen blanket – If you could call it a blanket. It was no more than a sheet most people would use to cover their beds. There were piles upon piles of junk and useless things from when Sakura was still a child and everything was all right. As she cleared it away, a large case fell with a clang at her feet. Kneeling down, she realized it wasn't any case. It was a violin case. Sakura's hands trembled as she carefully lifted the lid. She'd abandoned it a few years after her father's death. Daring to run a finger across the strings, she savored the texture and white, powdery dust (rosin) that powdered her fingers. Even though it was horribly out of tune, she lifted the instrument and began to play.