My memory of the dark time is choppy, some moments sticking out as deathly important, others sinking into the back of my subconscious like a half-forgotten dream. Sometimes, when I concentrate hard enough, I can remember blurbs of the forgotten day, but I always realize that there is nothing important to remember. Just blurry apathy. Not so sad that it sticks out in my memory as extremely painful, and not happy enough to stick out in my memory as extremely pleasant. Just grey.

I remember being angry all the time. Angry at myself, angry at my mother, angry at Sasuke-kun, angry at everything. It seemed like I was stuck on that phase of grief. I threw things a lot. I think I broke at least two TV's before my mother stopped buying them for me. It's just as well. I couldn't concentrate on the mind-numbing romances that were always on. They only made me angrier.

I remember when I punched my mother. She was asking me to do something…chores, maybe, and I just exploded. Called her mean words and socked her right in the gut. Hard. I remember the look she gave me…not like I was the monster that I felt like, but rather that I was just a little girl who was lost in the supermarket. Like she knew that I was hurting worse than she was. It made me sick to see how accepting she was. It made me hate myself more than I already had. I had run from her, up to my room, and not come out for the rest of the day.

That is one of the sharp memories. Sharp because it had shown me how far I had fallen. Before my heartbreak, I never would have thought of laying an unkind finger on my mother. I would've submissively done whatever petty task she had asked without a second thought, giving some white lie about how I was about to do it on my own.

What had happened to that girl? What kind of monster was I?

Another memory, one that's infinitely more important is the first time Rock Lee showed up at my house, maybe a month after Naruto's departure. My wonderfully perceptive mother had come up to my room with a cautious look on her face, and I sent her a death look.

"Sakura-chan?"

"Nani?"

"There's a boy outside asking to see you. Black hair, eh, dark eyes…?"

There had only been one boy that I could think of with that description, so I flew to the window to see if my prayers had been answered. I stuck my head out the window, straining to see.

And what I saw disappointed me immensely. Green. Lots of bright, pointless green. A stupid bowl-cut. Black, yes. But also shiny and round, not at all the spiky mess I had been hoping for. I slammed the window shut with a groan, and shouted, "Tell him I'm not feeling well!"

I looked back at my mother to see her giving me a disapproving look. "Sakura, that boy came all this way just to see if you were alright. The least you could do is talk to him."

"The least I could do is ignore him, actually." My tone was clipped, and I saw my mother's eyes narrow almost imperceptivity at the indignation in my voice. She unconsciously touched her stomach, and then turned to leave my room. I stayed at my window. I slid the glass up a little, watching as Lee-san fidgeted a bit where he stood, waiting for me. I felt a dull pang of regret as I watched his eagerness. For a moment, I felt protective of my green-clad friend, wanting to go down and tell him face-to-face that I needed to be alone, and that it had nothing to do with him.

But the moment of tenderness passed as soon as Kaa-san opened the door to relay my message to poor Lee-san. If he had had the intelligence to look disappointed and walk away dejectedly, maybe the regret would have stuck around. But he didn't do that. No, Lee-san did the opposite of that. He looked up at the sky, and then back to my mother. He gave her a swift nice guy pose, and then started shouting some nonsense about youth and health and eternal devotion. Feeling sick with myself and Lee-san, I closed the window again, turning away from the spectacle.

I could feel tears pricking at the corner of my eyes, and shook my head, trying to dispel them before they could start down my face. I was so tired of crying. I sat on my bed, scowling at nothing in particular.

That was a bit of an overreaction, don't you think, baka-chan? a voice in my head murmured lazily, poking at my resolve. It's not as if he was going to say anything to upset you. You should've talked to him. Poor Lee-san.

Whose side are you on? I snapped back, causing the voice to die down in submission.

Just then, there was a knock at my door, I looked up and scowled deeper. "Nani?" I growled.

"Can I come in?" asked my mother from the other side of the door.

I sighed. "Sure," I said unwillingly. No doubt she was going to give me a lecture about friendship and loyalty.

She walked in slowly, warning me with her eyes that she was disappointed in me. But she surprised me by not saying anything. Instead, she held out a bright, pretty little daisy.

I stared at it blankly, trying to process what in hell my mother was planning. Was the pollen poison? Or perhaps it was a squirt flower. How did she plan on punishing my antagonism?

When she didn't make a move to attack, I looked her squarely in the eye. "What's that?" I asked quietly, tensed and ready to bolt.

"Your friend asked me to give this to you," she said somberly, escaping my cold gaze by nodding toward the small flower.

I made a small groaning sound and took the flower from my mother without another word.

That is where the memory stops being meaningful and just starts being painful. I cried for an hour about my inability to be involved in a requited love, and then my mother yelled at me to get off my mopey arse and go grocery-shopping. In the course of that conversation, I managed to break my window and slice my elbow. I had to pay for the repair-job out of my own pocket, and I couldn't move my poor elbow for a couple of days. Not a happy memory, as I'm sure you can tell. But it did help me get to the next stage of grief.

Depression.

Lovely place to cut it off, eh?

I have a terrible feeling that this fic is going to suck. I don't know how the flow is going to work, what with it being based off of memories.

Uh, go ahead and review, if you want, but i don't think there's much to say about this so far. It would seem that i can't manage to write a very long chapter when it comes to non-fluffy, unhappy stuff. How annoying.

Much ai to all R&R-ers. I promise on my honor as a wannabe novelist that this will get better eventually.

For now, enjoy the product of my frustration.

Miyazaki A2