Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or its characters.

A/N: Albeit very late, Chapter 5 has been churned out! My sincerest apologies for the hiatus but I was caught in the grasp of life...
Anyhow, I'm sure everyone has read Chapter 700 of Naruto? And I can't believe (spoiler alert if you haven't!) Naruhina is canon?! I can't even express my disappointment but I suppose Sasusaku is okay too...

Back to the topic: I hope you enjoy this chapter too!

As always, reviews make a person happier :)

At the End of the Corridor

Chapter 5

Through the mid-years did Sakura experience a roller coaster ride of emotions.

In between studying for a myriad of subjects and topics, fending off Haruno Mebuki's intense advancements and fantasizing about where it was she wanted to fly off to for the holidays, Sakura made sure she allocated time for writing to her new BFF, the Mystery Guy. Correspondence between the two was going well, with Sakura mostly doing the complaining and BFF responding with advice and care and concern. Sakura was glad that he was opening up to her. She'd managed to ascertain his gender to be male when he'd written 'sometimes I wish that my Mom would call me a naughty boy too and scold me'. Which, Sakura had found mildly sadistic on his part, but no matter. The kid was probably some pampered child whose parents would never do so much as lay a finger on him. Most of the rich kids at her school were probably like that too. Meanwhile, she was stuck with loudmouth, embarrassing Haruno Mebuki. Talk about fairness!

Sakura sighed as she flipped through her thick Biology textbook in preparation for her final paper the following day. The darned thing was stuffed with a glut of facts and figures she really couldn't absorb right now because it was past midnight, and her mom wasn't going to let her sleep till she finished the entire book. She had around…386 pages left.
The teen groaned and slammed her head against the book in distress. There was a slight throbbing sensation in her head, but the pain was sufficient to impede her ability to concentrate. Her eyelids drooped precariously and she willingly allowed the waves of lethargy wash over her, knowing that once she fell into deep slumber, her mom wouldn't even be able to wake her up anyway.
As Sakura let her hand on the desk fall to her side, her fingertips brushed against a shoebox on the cupboard positioned next to her desk. Eyes flitting open in an instant from the sudden disturbance, the pink-haired girl carefully got up from her slumber position and pulled the box towards her.
It possessed a simple exterior; the unassuming white cardboard had scarcely a dent or so much as a scratch on it. Sakura lifted open the lid gingerly, as though she were handling a delicate fragment of glass.
Except that it was more like a delicate fragment of her heart.

Within the box lay the drive behind her life for the past two months. Carefully stacked into two piles was her correspondence with him—the orange post-its on the left, and the pink ones on the left.
Sakura liked to think that the two colours complimented each other very much against the dull cardboard background.

She ran her fingers along the edges of the post-its, flipping through them gently and taking a walk down memory lane.

Friday
Is orange your favorite color? I have a friend who simply adores that color too!

Tuesday
Ramen tastes the best out of all the foods in the Universe! Although there is a specific shop I usually eat from.

Wednesday
I think it's weird that we've been talking like this for the past two months without anyone finding ou—

The box, along with its contents, was suddenly wrenched from Sakura's hands. An orange post-it slit her fourth finger, though the pain was covered by the shock.
Sakura snapped to attention immediately and spun around to face she who had the nerve to so violently interrupt her.
But of course, she already knew who it was even before she turned around.
Haruno Mebuki stood, arms crossed and towering over Sakura, who sat slumped in her chair. Having been flung across the room and now laying battered in a corner was her box. The post-its were strewn all over the floor, and Mebuki made in a point to step on them, squashing and crinkling them beyond repair.

"What are you doing." It wasn't even a question, but rather a demand for an answer by Mebuki.
"What are you doing? Get your freaking foot off my stuff!" Sakura couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from the mess on the floor.
"Didn't I tell you to read your textbook? Then why are you wasting your time doing worthless things like this!" Mebuki yelled, her expression one of unadulterated anger. "Are you even aware that your test is tomorrow? No more games, Sakura!"

All Sakura could care about were her precious post-its. Blocking out Mebuki's screeching, she lunged forward, pushing Mebuki away and bending down to snatch up as many of the post-its as possible.
Unfortunately the odds were not in her favour, and her lethargy from staying up to read proved disadvantageous to her in this battle of speed.
In an instant, Mebuki had seized the vast majority of the post-its—some of which she'd grabbed right out of Sakura's hands—and began thundering out the door.
For a final dramatic effect, she paused and turned around right at the doorway, brandished the post-its proudly and said vengefully, "You can say goodbye to your distraction."

Then in one swift motion, Haruno Mebuki ripped the post-its in half right before Sakura's eyes.

Her mother's actions had left her in a state of shell-shock and paralysis for the next fifteen she'd finally regained her senses, Sakura's gaze drifted over to the sole survivor of the massacre—one slightly crumpled orange post-it right at the foot of her chair. Hand still trembling mildly, she picked it up and smoothed it out on her palm tenderly.

Thanks for being my friend.

Then the pain on her fourth finger began to set in. Sakura watched the tiny slit on her ring finger ooze out crimson blood and continued to watch it as it stained the bottom right corner of the post-it. Then it suddenly got mixed with a drop of transparent liquid, and Sakura realised with a start that she was crying.

Stop, she told herself.

Stop it.

But her heart seemed to invite the tears, and soon she was sobbing silently to herself at 4.08am, letting her tears of anger and hate flow and mix with the blood on the orange post-it.

Sakura clutched the post-it to her heart.
It was all she had left.

By the following day, Sakura's tears had dried and her sadness had ebbed away, leaving behind nothing but a mass of throbbing anger.

The first thing she did—even though it was right before her paper—was to march up to the board and slam down a single, slightly frayed, pink post-it.
Scrawled on it in large, angry (and slightly smudged) lettering were the words:

I wish my mom didn't exist.