Ok, this chap jumps around a bit and its pretty short, but its better than nothing at all, ne?

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Naruto. It is the property of Masashi Kishimoto. Deidara's father is my own invention, a reincarnation of every sexually abused child's personal demon. The characters may not be real, but as much as we wish to ignore the fact, the situation IS real. There are children, some no older than a few months all the way up to young adults who are beaten and abused by others. Behind closed doors, in an alley, in the picture-perfect happy family. Everywhere. This is reality. It could have been you. If you yourself derive pleasure by abusing children, I hope your carcass rots and you are forsaken by every person you have ever known. I am not allowed to give names, but the events in this story are true (although not all to one case), based off of events that happened to several people I know. In a way, this is their story. They wanted to let the world know, for you to see things through your own eyes what life can be like. Some small parts are made up, but none of it is exaggereated.

Just remember. This story is bad, but in truth, it is nowhere near the lowest of the low.

Have You Ever Seen The Rain?

Keep On Moving

"Get your fucking ass up!" The command was followed by a kick to the ribs. "Don't give me any of your shit, boy!"

Startled into wakefulness, Deidara scrambled up off the floor and ran to his closet, glad that the man was satisfied with only a single kick this morning when he turned to find that the other had already left.

It was morning, and Deidara was expected to dress, tidy up his room, and make it to school on his own. It was no surprise when the blonde picked up his oversized gray hoodie and dusted it off. It was even less of one when he picked out the rest of his clothes, all big enough for a boy three years his senior. Grabbing his clothes, he rushed into the bathroom to shower and change.

After the door was firmly locked, he threw his clothing from last night in the hamper and stepped into the shower. Once the water was on, he scrubbed himself furiously to remove the ilk left on himself in an attempt to remove the feeling of those hands and other vile parts of his father. Flushed and red-cheeked, Deidara put down the bar of soap and just stood in the falling water, letting the tears melt into the flow, undetected.

With a sigh, Deidara shut off the water and stepped out. He didn't really want to look in the mirror, but he did. Most of his left cheek was a bruise, and part of that eye as well. His bottom lip was swollen and split. One thin hand came up an brushed it gently, and Deidara winced. There was nothing he could do about the lip, but he could do something about the bruise.

Sitting on the bathroom counter, Deidara dug through the medicine cabinet until he found a small bottle of concealer hidden behind an old bottle of cough syrup that was never used. Unscrewing the lid, he carefully dabbed the skin colored cream on his cheek and around his eye before looking in the mirror to softly rub it in. Covering the bruises as best he could, Deidara put the makeup bottle away and climbed down, feeling the soreness in his backside and ribs. He didn't even bother brushing his teeth.

There was nothing to do now but to put on his clothes and leave for school after fixing up his room. The first task finished, Deidara stepped into his room and re-made the bed with clean covers, taking the soiled ones into the bathroom to fold and put in the hamper so he could wash them once he got home. Taking his book bag, he headed downstairs and to the front door. As he opened it, he heard something smack the wall beside him. Looking over, he noticed it was a package of blueberry Pop-Tarts. Turning and seeing that his father was nowhere in sight, Deidara picked up his rare breakfast and tucked it in his pocket before quietly shutting the front door behind him. It was a rare quiet morning in this house.

The air was damp and clean, and despite all circumstances, it put a spring in Deidara's step. Whistling birds sang from their green perches and there was a certain liveliness to the waking day.

Taking out his Pop-Tarts, Deidara opened the package and pulled out one of the broken chunks. Putting it in his pocket hadn't helped any, but at least it was all there. So, to the singsong voices of warblers and jays, Deidara walked down the morning street and munched his breakfast. The school was some way away, but Deidara was used to walking to it. It wasn't long before he could see the top of the main building peeking over the treetops.

Students littered the school grounds, bunched in groups all around the scattered picnic tables and walking hither to thither. Deidara passed through them and tossed the wrapper from his breakfast into a trash barrel as he moved towards a small cubby-like space along one of the side walls. This was where Deidara spent his time before school and during lunch. It was out of the way and quiet, and few of the meaner students would go so far out of their way to harass the under-sized boy.

Sighing, Deidara stepped up into the brick lined cubby and folded himself down with his knees to his chest and his shoulder leaning gingerly against the hard wall. There was still almost an hour before school started, and Deidara was still tired. Nights in bed only granted him a restless sleep, and a short nap was well deserved on his part. Settling down more comfortably with his backpack to pillow his head, Deidara drifted into a shallow sleep.

A scuffling commotion close by brought Deidara immediately to himself, trying to locate where the sound was coming from. As a body was heavily thrown against the wall not far outside of his cubby, Deidara cowered into the corner and stayed still. The sound came again, the unmistakable thump of a body being pushed forcefully against a wall. There was a quick succession of gagging sounds, and then all was quiet except for a slight rustling of cloth. The thud of a body sliding to the ground was Deidara's only warning before the attacker dragged their victim in front of the cubby.

Deidara stared, wide eyed and frightened at the body dragging the ground in front of him before risking a glance up into glaring red eyes.

"Leave him, Itachi. I don't think the little brat's gonna rat." Red eyes blinked shut for a moment before the black haired man looked for a moment at his partner. The redhead was staring as stoically as the first man, but seemed less concerned.

"Drop it and let's go." The redhead gave one look at Deidara, as if daring the cowering blond to tell of their crime, causing the boy to shake his head frantically. The dark-haired teen grabbed the body again and gave it one last heave, making it land in the cubby half on top of Deidara.

Deidara only waited for as long as it took for the other's footsteps to fade before shoving the body off of him and dashing out of the cubby and along the wall towards the front of the school. He had little hope that the other student was still alive, and was only interested in saving himself.

Before turning around the edge of the building, Deidara stopped to catch his breath and compose himself before stepping around front and walking into the building. He kept his eyes glued to the ground a few feet in front of him the whole length of the hallway, only looking up to determine whether or not there was anyone coming when he crossed an intersection. His footsteps followed the lines between the broad white tiles of the school floor. It was going to be a long day…

This was short, but introduces some other characters. No, there will not be love at first sight.