Sasuke's reflection stared back at him, reflected on the water. His feet made swirls in the water of the lake. The wood of the dock pressed against the backs of his legs. Once again he pictured his family that night…his brother…his katana…his own fear washing over his whole body, freezing him…He shook his head as if to clear it. He looked back behind him, towards his old house. Although the outside was unscathed, he knew its insides held the scars of battle. He got up and slipped on his shoes. He walked past the house into the street.
He walked almost blindly past the blood stains lining it and over to the small cemetery. His eyes found one set of headstones, his mother's and his father's. He couldn't cry. His tears were all shed. He would never shed another tear. He had sworn so on that night, those few years ago.
Some people would tell him to let it go, it was in the past. But how could he, when He was still alive. Itachi. That word filled him with hate, a desire for power, for revenge. He sighed, his hands fighting to slip into his pockets. He closed his eyes, regaining control over himself.
This was the way he spent every one of his birthdays. Thinking that he had let Itachi live for yet another year. That he hadn't killed him yet. That he wasn't strong enough. No matter how hard he trained.
He pictured himself as a younger child, an Academy student, showing his mom how well he could throw a shuriken. She had smiled, giving him a kiss on the cheek. His father would watch from the window, turning away before Sasuke could say anything to him.
Now his mother would never praise him again, his father would never again watch from his window, showing no emotion. Sometimes he longed to be acknowledged, longed to be praised or comforted. But that would never happen, not for a long time.