Here is chapter three of Final Fairytale. Thank you for the reviews, everyone who reviewed. I didn't get as many as last time, but at least I got some! This time review, okay? And then it will become better and I'll update faster. Yay!
My Final Fairytale
Chapter 3: Time
The few days after my mother died, everything was hectic. There was a funeral, and black. Black was everywhere. I wore pale lavender to the funeral. And I didn't put boring old funeral flowers on her grave; the dull kind that grew in Suna. I put a desert rose on her box, and buried it with her. That was her favorite kind of flower. I can't believe my father didn't remember.
Five days after the funeral, I met my new baby brother, Gaara. His hair was as red as blood and his skin as pale as death, they said as he shrieked up a storm. I looked at him, and I held him in my small chubby arms. Your hair is as red as the sunrise and your skin is as pale as moonlight, I whispered to him, comforting him in the silence. The silence I had created, when he stopped crying because of my words. And then he was taken from me, and carried away to live with my uncle. I didn't see him again, except from the glances in the hallways in the arms of another. Wishing to hold him again, I continued to pray that father would accept him. That was until I was five, when I dared to question my father's reasons behind sending Gaara to live apart from us.
He glared down at me, his stoic form towering above me, as he began to yell curses and words I had never heard before. Kankuro wandered into the room, drawn by the outburst, but I shushed him and sent him back to bed. Turning to face my father, I was met by a slap that hurled me across the room. Never, ever. Never ever say that name again, he bellowed. Don't go. Don't go near that monster, he roared. Hate you. I hate you all, he yelled, as I cried silently in the corner for the rest of that desolate night.
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What happened that night was a secret kept away from prying eyes. What happened nights after that, and after that, was a secret as well. Training accidents were suddenly frequent, and my silence was regarded as concentration on my studies. But no one knew what I sometimes faced in the evening, when I returned home from training. He didn't want pasta, he wanted meat. I needed treatment for the second degree burns I received from spilling the boiling water all down my back. The pot had tipped over. It was an accident. He didn't like bad grades, he like good grades. I didn't go back to school for days, because I was sick with the flu. I was lying in bed. I wasn't starving in a closet for that time. He didn't want his son to play with dolls, he wanted a strong ninja to boast about. I spent hours picking out the pieces of glass that had gotten stuck in the cuts in my skin when the glass in the window shattered. All because of a weak window frame. I had never been in so much pain. I cried for my mommy.
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By the time I was six, I though I had been through just about all the worst possible experiences anyone could go through. Boy was I wrong. You see, I overheard my father plotting against my baby brother. My Gaara; he was plotting to kill my Gaara. After dinner, after Kankuro was in bed, I sat up and waited. I guarded the door, eyes watching for any movement in the shadows, expecting my father to leap out and try for the door. He walked into the room and towards the door, so I set into action. Quickly I stepped in front of him, holding out my hands to block his way.
What are you doing? Where are you going? Why would you do something like that? You can't. You can't. YOU CAN'T! I won't let you! I had thought I knew pain, but I was more wrong than I have ever been. I howled in anguish and cried for help and even when none arrived I stood my ground. I stood my ground as my father beat me, and I didn't fight back because I knew it would hurt even more in the end.
For three years, I stood my ground. I refused to talk about those times, and I refused to let my father speak a word to anyone; to plot slyly in the shadows behind my back. Until the night he finally broke my barriers, broke my guard, broke me. It started out like usual, but I said that name – the forbidden one. And he snapped.
He threw knives at me, and anything else he could find. When he realized he had no more weapons he threw himself at me, and wrestled me to the ground, banging…no, slamming my head against the kitchen floor. I shrieked, and motioned for Kankuro to go back to bed. Ignore me, Kankuro. Just ignore me. And there was a sticky pool forming on the ground, but he continued to slam my head against the floor, until the lights danced around and I didn't hurt anymore. I welcome the darkness that consumed me.
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I was in the hospital for five months, and I've been on medication ever since, so I don't go insane and start hallucinating. I caught glimpses of Gaara at the academy, and he was always alone. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I'm sorry you'll have to be like me. Alone.
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Time passes, and I thought that maybe I'd deserve to get some back. I never did, and apparently I never will, because death is on my doorstep and chills crawl up my spine. To this day, I whisper when I'm in my bed, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.