Chapter 6
He didn't like her. No, he hated her. Imposing in on his private life, his aloneness, his sense of security. It was all he had in this hell. His sanctuary. Possibly not the best comondations, but the only place he was comfortable in. Because this was the place he belonged, were he was accepted without question because he was one of them. One of the mentally ill.
Of course he was more sane than any of them. More sane than any of them could hope to be. He had a firm grasp on reality, while they all held on to their small portion with a finger. Though his outlook on life might not be the most brightest of imaginings, he, at least, knew what to expect from this world.
You live and you die. It was that simple. The circle of life. You come into this world, you dish out your portion to society, and then you leave. Hoping that you left something memorable behind, something that would help the next generation. But, if you were given a role in this world like he was, one that required little but asked much, you didn't bother with memories. The mental are insane. Possibly. But what if they are the sane ones, while everyone else is crazy?
What if people like him knew everything there is to know about the world, but they are locked in an institution, and not given the chance to tell the world what they know. Maybe they are the ones that are sane, and everyone else is just to ignorant to admit it. Maybe everyone else is just to full of themselves to admit that something is wrong with them. He knew all of this. He knew nothing was wrong with him, and that, if given the chance, he could prove himself out in that world. . .But why would he want to leave.
He didn't. He was secure here. He was familier with this place, and would not part from a place he knew. Out there, in that open space, things happened to him, that even now made him flinch. Flinch away from the train of thought that would bring him back to the memories that had caused him to come here in the first place. The reason everyone thought he was insane.
His past. A dark secret locked away into the depths of his soul, deep into the abyss of his mind, in the darkest corner of the blackest of holes. Which is what he believed his whole being was. A deep endless black hole. He was broken. Broken because of the memories he struggled to keep away from the world. Lies. Lies that were fed into him from the moment he was brought into this world. And murder. Murder was what he knew. He had commited a crime, one that was unforgivable. That is, if you weren't him. To him, that act of certain murder was doing a favor to the world. Removing a someone that didn't deserve the life it had been given.
He didn't dwell on it. What was the point? To dredge up forgotten memories. Memories he had pushed away, never to return. To revel in the fact he had done a deed in which, as long as he lived, would never regret? Yes. That was it. He would never regret that night. He could wallow in the memory of blood. The liquid of life, that sustained the being he had taken. He could smell the substance as it stained his clothes, his skin, his once innocent and pure mind. One mind that was now tainted with the cruelty of the world.
Depending on how you looked at him, you could judge for yourself how sane you think he is. But just because you judge him, doesn't change the way he is. He is sane. Maybe not in the way that everyone else is, but he is sane. A twisted kind of sane. He could go in circles about facts and figures, and leave the common genius in the dust. Because he is sane enough to know how everything works. No one can reach his level of intellect because they aren't 'sane'.
"Gaara."
He looked up from his place at the window. How long he had been staring at the rain falling, he didn't know. The blonde woman who owned the instiution was standing in his doorway, a folder in her hand. And the pinkette behind her with her emerald eyes full of determination.
His jade eyes held a glare that made both women shudder, and visibly struggle to compose themselves. He loved how he affected people, how he could practically smell their fear in the air. It was almost enough to make him tremble with delight.
"It's time for your injection."
With the words barely out of her mouth, he was on his feet and standing in the middle of the room with a sinister grin splitting his face. He was in a half crouch, half standing position.
"Come on then." He said in a devilish voice. Fear became even more pronounced in the room, and it took a little more control not to kill them at that moment, and watch the red liquid spill from their broken bodies.
"Let us explain first Gaara." Tsunade spoke in a steady voice. She gave a small nudge to the younger woman beside her, and backed away a small step when Sakura took a stride into the room, taking the folder from the blonde's hands as she went.
A chuckle escaped his lips as he gazed at her feirce expression. Whatever she wanted to talk about, she believed in it. And it was beyond amusing to him, because her attempts to help him were nothing but futile. So why did she try. He was a hopless cause, so why not let dead dogs lie.
"I can handle this, Tsuande." She directed the sentence to the blonde still in the doorway, but kept her eyes on him.
"Alright. I'll be just down the hall if you need me." she directed her best glare to the male. It didn't faze him, his grin only grew.
Tsunade closed the door behind her with a click, and he could hear her footsteps echo down the hall. He straightened from his positon and moved his gaze to the being in his room. The one he hated, because she strolled into his space, again.
"I took you off the nembutal, Gaara. I found something healthier." she spoke softly as she raised the folder in her hand a fraction.
He snorted at her, and crossed back to his desk where he sat on the smooth metal surface. He could feel her gaze follow him, and he hated the feeling of her emerald eyes. Once postioned on the desk, she walked over to his bed, and set cross-legged on his mattress. The forest green material of her scrubs stretched over her skin, and he wanted to know how dark that green would look with her blood spilled on it.
"It's called Benzodiazpines. It has the basic structure of nembutal, but I didn't like how nembutal turned you into a shell. Benzos, it actually calms you down, instead of forcing you in on yourself. I thought maybe, you would like this better."
He watched as she squirmed under his intense gaze, and loved how she seemed insecure and glanced at the closed door. Her insecurity was what he wanted her to feel. He wanted her to fear. Scream. Wanted her fear and scream because of him.
"It'll help you sleep to. Stifle the nightmares. It'll give you a good start on eating habits and the like. And then I thought once you have a good hold on sleeping, we can start you on triazolam. It helps more with the insomnia." her eyes shined with the pride she felt.
"You can't fix me." his deep voice reverbrated through the room.
"But I can try." she answered back.
He gave her sharp calculting look, and then smirked. Could she handle him? Probably not, but why not test her. See how far she will go to 'fix' him. Would she crack under the pressure, from the closeness of him, from his insanity or his sane mind. Or would she hold. Stand strong. And if she did, for how long would she last? Not long most likely, they never did. Then again, no one had exactly made it as far as she had already.
He stepped lightly off of his desk and locked gazes with her. She was frozen, he could see that. He could see how she was like a deer in the spotlight of a car. Immobile. He loved how he could make her freeze. Slowly, he crossed over to her. She stayed in positon on the bed, the only movement was her chest steadily rising and falling with the intake of needed oxygen.
Standing in front of her, he could see how she was fighting the helplessness in her emerald eyes. She wanted to move, he could see that, but she couldn't. He could see that also. He lowered his face to her level, and moved closer. Forcing her back. She fell back against the mattress, her feet, now untangled, hung off the edge with him inbetween. His hands were on either side of her pink head, trapping her beneath him. His face was just inches from hers, and her smell filled his nose. It burned.
Her hands clutched onto the folder on her stomach, crinkling the paper inside. He grinned, exposing his teeth. He lifted his knees onto the mattress, placing them on either side of her thighs, further encasing her in a sense of no escape. His body barely touched her, but it was enough for him to feel her shaking beneath him. He reveled in her fear.
"S-s-st-stop G-Gaara." Her voice shook, and another amused chuckle escaped his lips.
He lowered his face even closer to hers, and trailed his nose across her jawline to her ear. A violent tremor shook her body, and he lowered his own closer to hers. Jubilent that he was making her fear for her safety.
"I'm to far gone to be brought back." his hot breath caressed her skin, and another tremor shook through her. "What if i'm the sane one, and your sanity was lost the moment you stepped into this place?" he questioned her.
Her answer was her trembling body, and a whimpering noise from deep in her throat. He chuckled lightly, and backed off of her body. He watched from his place on the desk as she rose slowly from her laying position on the bed, to a sitting position. Her emerald eyes shone now with her insecurity, the determination just a small flicker.
"See you soon Haruno." He said in a velvet voice, as he glanced at the watch on her wrist. Their session would be in forty minutes. Possibly enough time for her to regain her lost composure.
She looked wide eyed at him, and then down at the folder in her hands. Probably having thoughts about how she was to handle this volatile patient. He loved the way he made her doubt herself. She shakily stood from the bed, keeping her eyes downward, and made her way to the closed door.
He followed her with his pale jade eyes, scrutinizing every movement. Once she had reached the door, one small hand resting on the knob, she turned her pink head back to him.
Her eyes shone with frustration, anger, and that ever present determination. He wanted to kill her then. Wanted the damned determined look to be lost and never found. She frowned at him, and he glared at her.
"I'll never stop trying Gaara." with that said, she left the room. Leaving him boiling and wanting to kill something.
He hated the way she made him feel. The feeling of something unsaid in his mind. What was left unsaid. He wanted to know, but how could he when she was the one making him feel this way. He could go in circles about facts and figures, but she could dance around him about emotions and feelings. Since the only emotion he knew was hate, and the only feeling he had was the satisfaction of another's insercuriy in his presence.
He hated the way she made him feel.