A/N - Here's a random story idea I thought of as I got writers block from That Summer.

I'm really feeling this one. I came up with these 4 chapters in about a week.

As always, it's a bundle since it's a new story. You get a chance to get a nice healthy taster of it and see if you're feeling it too.

So let's get started.

DISCLAIMER - I do not own Naruto

Song used for this story - Subtact - Tunnel Vision

"I have had it with your behavior."

I sat there looking duly at my mother, unfazed by her hysterical declaration. This happened about three times a week, two on a good one, where she came to the conclusion that I was the worst child in existence- and that was putting it politely in her eyes.

Honestly, I wasn't that bad compared to the rest of the kids that ran around with this much money under the belt and the over slight mistake of giving too much freedom. If we were being real, I could be hooked on coke like my elder brother.

Oh, but we didn't talk about that. He was clean now, taking care of the family business. All of that was in the very dark past.

And oh, how it helped my mother sleep at night pretending to believe such little fairy tales. If we were being brutally honest with each other, which it looked like we were, he was probably snorting a line as we spoke.

"I'm serious, Sakura. You have ran rampant for long enough, and you need to learn to grow up."

I set my jaw. All I did was take the car out to grab some drinks, but unfortunately what should have been a smooth process ended up taking a turn. To be specific, I took a turn. To the left. And ended up accidentally slamming into a truck. Honestly, you'd think she'd be more hysterical that I almost died.

But maybe it was the fact that I was drunk driving in the first place while running a red light that put a bad taste in her mouth about the situation.

Either way, the stitches on my brow and my bruised ribs should have been punishment enough. Sitting here listening to her attempting to lecture me was excessive considering my condition. I learned my lesson. Drunk driving: bad. Even I had to admit it was stupid and had already promised myself as my head spun seconds after the accident that I would never do it again.

"Don't you have anything to say for yourself?" She demanded with a glare at me as I sat on the couch while mutely watching her.

I set my jaw, "I get it mother, I fucked up-"

"Don't take that language with me!"

I winced at her screeching, frowning in discomfort as the pounding headache of last night continued to reside just at the left of my temple. The fact that it had been a full twenty-four hours and it had yet to go away swayed me that maybe I should get it checked out. But I was in a car accident. So it seemed like something that wasn't too out of the ordinary.

"Sorry," I excused myself while feeling a sour taste in my mouth, "What I meant to say was I messed up. I understand that."

"No, you don't. But you will, I promise you that much," she threatened with clenched teeth before stalking off.

I held my tongue about commenting how now, of all times, she wanted to pretend she was a mother. For half of my life I was raised by maids, and suddenly when I hit the age of not being scared of her hysteria and giving the last fuck I was able in this lifetime, she wanted to question where she went wrong with me.

Probably when she decided to not raise me herself while putting so much focus on my elder brother. And even then, the man was a 'recovering' addict.

I almost wanted to thank god I didn't grow up under her watchful eye if I wasn't so questionable about his existence.

Rubbing my forehead and flinching as I accidentally brushed against my stitches, I looked around with a frown. She had brought me in here to scream, my old piano room where I was forced to practice over and over until the bones in my fingers felt like they were fragile enough to break. Everything about this place tossed my stomach with horrid memories, ones that I usually tried to bury however I could.

Feeling sick as I watched the flash back of me crying in a corner right after my mother screamed my performance was pathetic, I stood up and rushed to leave the room trying in vain to convince myself the past no longer effected me.

But there was no possible way to do so.

I knew by experience how hard it was to drown the past.

Alright. Let's keep at it.