A/N: Whoo! Finally chapter 4! I'm leaving for a week long trip next Wednesday so I've been in overdrive trying to get everything around my house straightened out. Cleaning and cleaning and more cleaning and then homework that doesn't want to be turned in. Stupid school website.
Anyways, this is Gaara's deidcated chapter before the real fun begins. I tried my hardest to make it just as dark, but something tells me it's not. I dunno what it is though. I've been over it and can't seem to put my finger on it. If any of you have any ideas, let me know so I can make sure it doesn't happen again.
Also, thank you to all my reviewers! I'm glad that so many people love this so far! Makes my face all happy and such. Oh, and to one of my reviewers: I don't have a definitive ending yet. I haven't decided how this story is going to end. Let's all just enjoy the journey and worry about it when it comes. Now, all the people the favorited and followed, thank you too! I'm glad you like it enough to want to keep up with it.
Enjoy!
It felt like ecstasy. Nothing in the world was any better than this. The pure, glittering color in the moonlight. The dripping echo of it falling around your feet. The smooth taste as it rolled down your tongue. Truly there was nothing greater in the world. Everything came in a rush whenever they bathed in it. Hit like a freight train of feelings both physical and mental. Euphoria always followed after draining them dry. The method never mattered; it was always the end result that they cared for.
He remembered the feeling of licking their blood off his fingers like sticky syrup that refused to come clean. The smile that cracked his face in half as he felt as high as the demons that tried to take over the heavens. A delighted heave of his breath as the copper smell enveloped his senses. He even remembered the type of night it was; a dreary night in November under the pale moonlight with clouds rolling by. Shadows danced around the corners, slipping just out of his sight as if to play tricks on him. There had been a chilling howl of thunder in the distance and he was suddenly being drenched in waves of rain. It had been clear only moments ago and now the sweet nectar that he craved so much was being washed away. His hands clenched into tight fists and he glared up at the sky. How dare it take away his thrill! How dare the heavens force him to suffer emotionless torment!
Unfurling his fingers, he let the tips rove over the tattoo on his forehead gently. He would have that feeling at any cost. His jade eyes glanced down at his feet with an icy look of indifference. Tendons, muscle, tissue, bone and blood lay frayed at his feet in a massacred mess. Whoever, whatever, they used to be was no more. The skin was white with death, the muscles brown with decay and the bones splintered from marrow sucking animals. Death clouded blue eyes caught his and he bent down at the knees to stare into them. His messy red hair drooped against his skull from the shower of the skies, rain water dripping off his nose and chin. Each drop of water thinned the blood around him, fanning out in intricate patterns. His eyes become half lidded as he stared at the once vibrant hues and his lips pursed as if he were pouting about how they were able to make their eyes look so happy.
Stretching forth a hand, his index finger poked the eye that stared back at him. It gave a half roll away from him before coming back. How had they been able to have eyes that shone with such joy? He wished his eyes could do the same thing. Why had he never known such pleasures? What was so imperfect about him that he had been forced to endure such hardships? With an angry hiss, he stood back to his feet and slammed his foot down upon the eye, feeling it squish between his toes. The mud began to cover his bare feet as dug his toes into the mushy ground. None of it was fair! He had never done anything to anyone and yet he was subjected to nothing more than pain. A monstrous roar of thunder snapped the young man back to reality.
With a light jerk, his senses returned and he let his eyes rove over his surroundings. Gray and rust surrounded him on all sides. Darkness gripped his eyesight with unrelenting force causing his eyes to strain to try and see. He was still stuck in his cell. He knew these walls far too well. Living in the tiny cell for years, he knew everything about this place. Jade eyes shot up as the sound of the metal lock buzzed open. Standing before him was a man in his thirties, his famous cigarette hanging from his mouth and that annoying stick twirling in his hands. He knew the man well, despite his animalistic tendencies, he occasionally had good conversations with the guards and therapists.
"Alright Gaara," his gruff voice sighed with an exhale of smoke that made the young man choke a cough. "Time to let those dark eyes see the light."
He growled a response at first, but when the older man looked at him with the look that confused him, he relented. The older man was never afraid of him, no matter how many times they were forced to fight each other, and it confused him. "Asuma," his voice strained. It was low, raspy and demented.
"What is it Gaara?" he asked as the red head stepped out in front of him.
His green eyes looked back at the older man that was surprisingly, barely taller than him. "How's Kurenai?" At the way his body went rigid, Gaara grinned like a madman.
"You'll be seeing her later Gaara," he tried to cover up his obvious nervousness at how Gaara knew about them. They had been keeping their relationship a secret; especially to the inmates for fear that they might do something to either of them. "You can ask her yourself then."
As he turned to face ahead of him, his grin only widened. "Oh, I plan to." He had certainly seen nurse Kurenai recently and she was looking particularly plump. His mind only surmised that she was pregnant with Asuma's child.
As the door to the outside lay ahead of him, his bag covered eyes squinted at the brightness blinding him. It was so dark in Red Wing that his eyes had a hard time adjusting to the difference. Stepping out onto the yard, he saw the rest of his cellmates already wandering around. There weren't many of them; only about ten or twelve. Hearing his white shoes padding along the grass, his mind wandered to seeing Kurenai again. Group therapy was one of his favorite times of the day. He never really made any waves during the session, but he truly enjoyed messing with the raven haired woman's head. A sadistic grin curled at his lips as he remembered the first time she ever had a session with him.
Hidan had been sent to solitary for sneaking in a weapon and trying to stab the newbie. He was surprised that she was able to subdue him with such ease. She had acted so quickly that the Jashin worshipping idiot hadn't even realized what happened until he was on the ground with her twisting his arm behind his back. It wasn't everyday they had a nurse that acted like a guard. Licking him lips with excitement, he stayed in his seat calmly waiting for the session to continue so he could speak the words that sent almost all of the therapists running for their lives. None of them wanted to work with him because he was always so graphic about his crimes and what went through his mind.
With an arm resting on the back of his chair and a leg crossed over the other, he comfortably waited until she was asking him to speak his mind. She wanted to know what was on his mind? This woman was brazen, just like that Tsunade bitch. Well, there was no one quite like the head nurse Tsunade. As she requested, he talked about every single thing on his mind. From how he had mangled the body of child into an unrecognizable mess before being admitted, to slashing the throat of a former guard with nothing but his nails; but none of that seemed to faze her. With a twisted smile he leaned in close, resting his arms on his knees. Gaara told her how he imagined cutting off her pretty raven hair because he had never really liked long hair on woman. How he wanted to carve into her porcelain flesh and stain it a beautiful red; drawing patterns into her unblemished, smooth skin. He wanted to hear her cries of joyful agony as he tore into her skin with his teeth, feeling her flesh rip apart under his teeth and tasting the iron that spilled from the wounds. And most of all, how he wanted to thrust his cock into her lifeless body as he watched the light drain from her garnet eyes.
After that, she had asked him to be taken away with a look of utter disgust on her pale face. While Gai had dragged him away, he was cackling like a hyena all the way to his cell. He was thrown into his cell without a care but he couldn't stop his disturbing laughing fit. Gaara chuckled to himself as he flopped into the seat opposite Deidara at the small table only big enough for the chess board on it. The blonde haired hot head looked up at him with a turn of his head in curiosity.
"What's got you so happy Gaara?" he asked, setting up the board.
Did he expect him to play? "Just memories."
"Ooo!" he smiled, his brows raising high in curiosity. "Happy memories are they? Must be because Gaara doesn't laugh for nothing."
He nodded once. He didn't hate any of his cellmates; although some disturbed even him. His jade eyes wandered to the pale man with long black hair and golden orbs like a snake. "Memories of tearing flesh apart and tasting blood."
"Ew," Deidara cringed at the thought.
Their game began with relative calm. No one disturbed them and the game itself was fairly even. Although all of them were crazy, none of them were dumb; except maybe Hidan. He did everything by this insane belief that some higher power was helping him. Don't judge Gaara. His jade eyes widened and his body froze. Deidara looked up at him curiously; it was his turn and he wasn't doing anything. The look on Gaara's face was one of terror and surprise. What could be going on in that mind of his?
Rip out his heart. Shred his flesh to ribbons. Bathe in his blood. The voice was so loud! Show them the real you! The real him? Who was the real him? Gaara bit into his cheek so hard that he felt the metallic taste coat his tongue. He drank his own blood as a way to try and stifle the angry voice shouting at him. He clenched his hands into fists, his knuckles cracking as he did so. All he wanted right now was to cover his body in a crimson blanket. He wanted to taste blood other than his own. To feel the flesh of another tearing under his nails. He wanted to feel joy! Without warning he roared and jumped over the table at Deidara. The blonde had never done anything to him personally but the voice was compelling him to taste his blood. The voice wanted compensation for being locked up away from so many waiting victims.
Gaara didn't remember much after that. When his young mind finally came too, he was in his cell, sitting in the stillness of the dark. It's not enough! The voice screamed at him with such force that it caused him to hold his head in pain. More. I want more! Something tastier. No! He felt his nails digging into his scalp as he tried to silence the voice that growled at him. Why was he burdened with such a creature lurking inside him? Was this his punishment for being born as his father had said? Was this the curse left behind from killing his mother? The sound of the door at the end of the hall caught his attention. Someone was descending into the pits of hell. Who would be so foolish other than guards or nurses?
He could hear their footsteps; two of them. He knew one to be Asuma's, he knew that fool's scent from the cigarettes he couldn't quit. But the other one, it was new, foreign. It was such a scent that didn't belong here. The sound of their uneasy steps gave away how scared they were. He slunk back into the shadows of his cell waiting for them to appear before him. When his green eyes finally fell upon the silhouette of the dark haired beauty, he was intrigued. A woman, here? Oh the fun he would have. When she walked up to his cell he grinned at her. He knew even in the darkness, she could see him. She was forcing herself to look, to try and figure out with evil lurked along the length of his cell. She stayed close when he growled at her, almost curious about him. Why would she be so dumb as to stay this close? He would find out!
Her voice was so pure as he heard her shriek when he grabbed her wrist. The sound sent chills along his skin and he wanted to hear more. HER! Spill her blood! The voice howled at him as they stared at each other; white meeting green. Images of her pale skin covered in red caused a twitch from his pants. It was such a sight that he couldn't resist the urge to taste her here and now. In one fluid motion, he took her ring finger in his mouth. His tongue slid along the length of her bones, dripping her finger in his drool and flicking his tongue out from under her nail. Was that a shudder of pleasure he felt tremble through her finger? She seemed to utterly captivated by him. He nearly laughed when she realized that he wanted to cut off the digit he held in his tongue.
Her skin tasted so beautiful. He wanted more! Cover her in blood! The shouting was getting worse but why should he deny the voice what it so desperately wanted? Not only did it want her slathered in red, but as he tasted her pure skin he wanted to as well. He wanted to gouge beautiful lines in her pale skin and paint serene red scenery on her. glancing up at her, she seemed to be trying to figure out his meaning behind suckling on her finger. There was no reason other than he wanted to. However, there was a reason he had gotten so close in the first place.
Asuma scrambled to his cell and struck him with the taser he kept on his belt. As they were so close, he gripped the keys and tore them away as he scrambled back to the darkness. What a fool. He gripped the key ring tight in his palm, waiting for Asuma to leave. Gaara heard him tell the girl that group therapy was in an hour which meant that it was a shift change. Security would be low and take their time to respond. His sharp teeth drooled as he let a wide, maniacal grin spread across his face. He would satisfy the voice in his head, and his own lust for her blood. Spending years in this dump had its advantages; like knowing the routine of the guards.
When that echoing slam of the door echoed in his ears, he slid up to the cell bars. While there was an automatic lock to be used from a distance, it still had a normal lock for emergencies. Pressing up against the bars, he snaked his hand through the bars and stuck the keys in one at a time trying to figure out just which one worked his cell door. He so desperately wanted to see the face she made when he was carving into her sweet velvet skin. As he fumbled with the keys, an image of the girl watching him from outside passed through his thoughts. She had seen him in the courtyard ripping Deidara's flesh apart. She had seemed so enthralled by his insane display rather than afraid or disgusted like most did. When he was slamming the guard's face against the tree, he had seen her body twitch with excitement. Was she really that demented? He would find out.
The familiar click of his door unlocking buzzed in his ears and he slowly slid the door open. His sense of hearing drowned out the screams of the other patients having just grown used to it. Although, seeing him roaming free caused them to start a whirlwind of new screams; each one asking him to let them out. He ignored them all. All he wanted was the girl that seemed to enjoy the scene he made. Green orbs watched as she lay back on her bed, laying an arm over her face. Watching her curvy body move only caused the voice to grow louder. Rape her! Soak in her red beauty! How could he refuse such suggestions? It was obvious to him that she wasn't used to the sounds around her because she hadn't noticed him until he was opening her cell.
As she brought her head up to see who could be entering her cell, he saw the terror that struck her being. He didn't bother grinning down at her, scowling and towering over her like the shadow of a demon. She was going to help him feel. She was going to help silence the raging voice inside him. Her lips began to part and he quickly clasped his hand over her mouth. Straddling her hips, she was forced onto her back and it was now that he let a bloodthirsty smile curl at the corners of his mouth. Her white eyes held fear and confusion; probably wondering how he had gotten free. Her dark locks were sprawled around her shoulders like a fan, making her pale skin stand out all the more. He could feel her hips under his thighs and he couldn't deny that they felt good against his body. He felt her shudder which only brought him even more delight at her current situation.
Using his weight, he held her down as she began to fight against his grip. Why had she hesitated in fighting? Was she wondering what he would do to her? Pressing against her chest with his own, he ran his tongue along her neck, savoring her taste once again. The way her body tasted of flowers brought a soothing feeling over him. For some strange reason it made him feel warm. Blood had always made him happy, but this taste, this feeling was different then that. Reaching her collar bone he felt her body twitch against his. Was she enjoying this? Somehow, it wouldn't surprise him. If she were down here with him then she must be one sick and twisted girl. His tongue roved over the protrusion so delicately, so gingerly that for a split second he actually thought that he had some kind of feeling for this girl. Impossible!
Pushing up her shirt roughly, he looked down at her ample breasts and bit down into the right one. His teeth ripped cleanly through her flesh like it were rice paper. Her skin was so delicate that it amazed him she didn't have any scars on her upper body. Well, that wouldn't be the case anymore. As his mouth clamped around the fatty tissue, he was rewarded with the copper taste over taking his senses. He felt her scream into his hand and watched as her skin prickled with chills. Pulling away enough to hover his lips over the gushing wound, he ghosted over it feeling the cool liquid smearing along his chin and nose. Even her blood tasted sweet! More! Soon he was lapping at the substance as if he was dehydrated and it was his water. The warmth around the wound burned against his cold lips, slowly getting more intense. Was she excited?
From the corner of his eye, he watched her body twitch and move under his mouth. Her face contorted in some kind of internal struggle and a pink color tainted her face. How odd. He had never seen such a reaction on someone's face before; especially on that of someone he was attacking for his own pleasure. He wanted to know more. He wanted to venture further. This display was obviously something she was enjoying more than he expected. Her legs were squirming together as if she were trying not to show him something. As he was lost in his thoughts and enjoyment, she pulled at his hand and bit into it with all her might. Snapping back to reality, he jerked his hand away in pain. Staring down at her, malice and anger burned in his eyes. How dare she! Kill her! Drench her in red rain! Teach her a lesson she won't soon forget! Rip out those pretty vocal cords!
Cracking knuckles echoed around them as he formed his hand into a fist, which was soon followed by the sound of her cheek bone breaking under his force. She was going to pay for attacking him! He looked at his hand and saw the red mark from her teeth. She certainly had sharp teeth. Red dripped down her face and he felt an overwhelming urge to drink up last drop. He wanted so desperately to tear her apart to utterly; to destroy her for attacking him. Letting go of the keys, he gave into this urge and dug his nails into her torso. Slowly he dragged them along her skin with such pressure that blood began to pool on her stomach instantly. Her screams of pain were music to his music deprived ears. He watched as her belly button filled with red and slid down her sides. The skin around each wound grew puffy and red. He was sure there was searing pain that accompanied them as the icy air blew over them. Watching her body twist and struggle under him brought him great delight, but he wondered if it were from pleasure or pain.
Again he saw that face of her struggling with herself internally. What could she be thinking about? He would find out. Feeling the muscles in her thighs tense and ease continuously a knowing scoff escaped his throat. Scooting down her legs, he violently ripped down her white pants. His bag filled eyes blinked in shock. Never did he expect such lewd lingerie from a patient. They were red and made of lace. He ran a finger over the fabric teasingly and he saw her suddenly sink into the bed as if she were embarrassed. Was he not supposed to know about these? There was no changing the fact that he did now. He licked his lips when he noticed that the fabric did nothing to hide what she was desperately trying to. She was wet.
Leaning down, he slid a finger under the fabric, pulling it out of the way. He could smell her. Why was everything about this girl so sweet? She screamed innocence and goodness, so why was she here? His mouth was drooling with the anticipation, smacking his lips together. He leaned in closer and ran his tongue over her glistening lips. The action caused her body to momentarily freeze and a gasp to erupt from her throat. He enjoyed that. However, once the taste of her juices settled onto his taste buds it was all over for her. An animalistic need to fuck her came over him and his lips carved into a smile against her soft skin. There was no denying that his violence had turned her on and his tongue didn't seem to be helping her any. With each lick and suck, he watched her body react with a twitch and arch. This woman was done for.
Her body erupted into a violent shake as he drove his tongue deep into her, feeling her juices flood into his mouth. He felt her body go rigid as if locked in place before he was suddenly being ripped away from her. Anger overcame him as they were taking him away from the girl half naked on her bed. He could see her body still shaking from the pleasure he caused in her. With a roar of rage he fought against Gai and Genma, his nails leaving gouges in the rust on her cell door. The entire way he was dragged down the hall and out of the wing, he screamed with nothing but rage. The two guards threw him into a cell smaller than his own, after putting him in a straight jacket. Scrambling to his feet, he tried to reach the door before it was shut in his face.
Gaara stared up at the only window in the room, too high for him to see out of. His jade eyes glared death upon the window as if it would burst open. Looking back at the door, he growled low in his throat like a predator. That woman was his now. He wouldn't let anyone or anything get in his way. No guard, no doctor, and no therapist could stop him from having her. Blood will rain upon this castle.
She made him feel alive. And he hungered for that; for her.