Pretty Disclaimer: The characters of Naruto are not my own!
Warning(s): This story contains dark and suggestive material. Don't complain about it.
III. Notice Me
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Two more school days passed by, but I hardly noticed. Locked in my dark bedroom, I watched reruns of black-and-white comedies and cheesy romance movies. If anyone asked me the titles of the shows or any of the real content, I wouldn't answer. I was conscious of my surroundings, yet I wasn't. At times, I felt like a zombie—maybe even death itself.
Pill after pill. Hour after hour. No one came to inquire about my well-being, and I had long since unplugged the telephone. On the day that Itachi was to return home, I sat beside the window and peered through my slanted blinds. Someone knocked on my door.
"Get up and put something nice on; be downstairs in thirty minutes." My father didn't speak in a loud tone, so he knew perfectly well that I was awake.
After I closed the blinds, I went to my closet for a pair of khaki pants and a light-blue dress shirt. Something felt wrong. I was going to don my best clothing to welcome home the guy that raped me. Hell, family members and close friends were mingling downstairs, preparing to surprise Itachi when he walked through the door. I never even had a party for my birthday.
"You look nice." My mother stood in the doorway, a smile upon her face.
"Where did father go?" I tugged at the edge of my shirt, but I didn't tuck it in; Itachi didn't deserve the formality.
"He went to pick up your brother right after he woke you up. They should be—." I ignored her words when I heard the sound of tires in the driveway.
My heart was pounding in my chest. One car door slammed, then a second slammed. My breathing was light and quick as I listened for the sound of the front door opening. Oblivious to my panicking, my mother hurried back downstairs to greet them.
"Come on, dear. Don't you want to surprise your big brother?" She was so excited—so happy.
I followed her path towards the front door. I swore I heard two sets of footsteps nearing the door. When I got to the bottom of the steps, I felt the familiar surge of emotion. I was suffocating, and I wanted to vomit. I prayed that I wouldn't lose control of my bodily functions. I prayed that the footsteps belonged to someone else. As the front door opened, I knew that my prayers were unanswered.
"We're back." The proud smile on my father's face was another punch to my unsettled stomach.
With sunset skin and ebony eyes, Itachi entered the house. For the first time in two years, we were in the same room. Mother hugged him and cooed about how he was her baby; father patted him on the back. All the while, he was looking at me, and I was looking right back.
So focused on him, I failed to hear the cheers and the clapping that came from the guests. When the eye contact was broken, Itachi kept his cool demeanor and accepted the warm welcomes from familiar faces. Every so often, I felt his eyes on me. I had a feeling that he wanted me to know that his focus remained on me.
"No. Two years gave Itachi a lot of time to think. It was a confusing time for him," I heard my Father explain to my Aunt and Uncle.
"Oh, everything will be fine. Sasuke is such a sweet boy; we're all forgiving here," Mother voiced.
The words seemed to swirl around on an unseen breeze. No one asked me how I felt about living under the same roof as a convicted rapist. No one cared. I stood at the bottom of the staircase and watched everyone joke and laugh.
"Not happy to see me, otouto?" My eyes widened and every muscle in my body tensed.
Slowly, I turned to my left and met my brother's gaze. He appeared very suave and sophisticated; he also seemed unapologetic. Again, no one paid any attention to me. I opened my mouth to respond, but Itachi reached forward and grabbed my chin.
"You missed me. I can see it in your eyes," Itachi said with his usual passive expression.
"I hate you," I spoke from between gritted teeth.
He closed the distance between us and let his thumb run along my bottom lip. It was a wonder no one saw him violating every portion of his parole. The smallest of smiles crossed his face, and I felt something flutter within me. It had been years since I saw his smile.
"This time, no one will interrupt us. Are you going to cry for help, Sasuke?" He seemed amused as I looked around at anyone for any sort of acknowledgment. "Run." And at that, he took a step back.
Like a coward, I turned and fled. I ran up the stairs, even going so far as to crawl the rest of the way when I tripped. Then everyone noticed me; everyone whispered about me. Father apologized over and over again for my reaction. Itachi just stood there, his expression devoid of surprise or concern. To everyone present, Itachi was never in the wrong.
My thirteenth birthday was uneventful, but one gift was still unaccounted for—Itachi's. The air felt hot and humid, leaving everyone's flesh a deep shade of red. Central air wasn't working, so I stayed with Itachi while our parents went to the hardware store.
I avoided him like the plague. I knew that if I ever gave him an opportunity to take advantage of me—if I ever let him see a weakness—he pursued it. As I shut my bedroom door, I noticed a figure on my bed.
"Get out," I frowned, glaring at Itachi.
"You don't want your birthday gift?" He held a neatly wrapped package out, almost daring me to refuse.
When my hand went for that package, he moved and caught my wrist. The gift tumbled to the floor, but the box had been empty all along. Itachi wasn't one to whisper sweet words, nor was he one to wait for what he wanted. Itachi took what he wanted, and he wanted me.
"You always loved this game," Itachi said as he forced me onto my mattress.
"It's not a game, damn you! I'm going to kill you!" I shouted, trying to sound big through my tears.
I always swore to kill him, but both of us knew that it was an unattainable goal. His hands were rough from training at the police academy; he didn't try to be gentle with me. His kisses were poisonous. His touch was acidic. I screamed as loud as I could, but no one came.
He pressed his lips against mine, taking my bottom lip between his teeth. When I kept struggling against him, he bit down. After that, I did what he told me to—I didn't want any other questionable marks. I didn't want anyone to know about our game.
He wanted me to stroke his dick, and I asked how fast or how slow. He wanted me to suck him off, so I did. He raped me until I bled. Itachi took pleasure in my pain. When our parents returned home, he vanished to his bedroom. I cried myself to sleep.
I slammed my shoji door and sunk to the floor. My pants were tight around my erection, and I looked down at myself with a blank expression. A part of me wanted to cry; another part of me wanted to scream. Instead, I crawled over to my nightstand and retrieved my bottle of pills. And like that, everything was better.
"Hm." A hand seized my bottle of medication. "What are they feeding you, otouto?"
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Author Rant
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And I managed to write this chapter today. How was it? Let me know!
If there are any awkward moments or discrepancies in the story, don't be afraid to let me know. This is a combination of two stories, so I may not have reviewed the material enough to catch any mistakes in time or in description; however, I did proof it three times. Still, be aware. Thanks.
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Ja ne.