Lies: Chapter Four
The first time I get the urge to experiment on a dying patient, I don't realize until it's almost too late.
The second time it happens, I'm waiting for it.
The third time, I retract the scalpel into my fingertips and disappear into the staff bathroom for an hour, arguing with myself under my breath, in between bouts of dry heaving.
Maybe Naruto was right- maybe he did something to me. I shudder as roiling disgust sends nausea climbing my throat. What's wrong with me?!
'Nothing's wrong with you my dear little Sakura…'
I start; I know that voice- sure it's his voice, but I'm suddenly aware that it's been whispering in my head for the last month. Oh god.
He snickers, the sound rasping along the inner contours of my skull as I try not to hyperventilate.
'Oh, that won't do!' he whispers, stroking my shuddering psyche with gentle tendrils of thought. 'I can't have you falling unconscious- then they might do all sorts of tests on you…'
My mind is filled with gruesome images and I suddenly believe, wholeheartedly, that if I am discovered I will be brutally tortured. 'Good girl, just go back out there and continue your day. Nothing's wrong, all is well.'
I slowly stand from my hunched seat on closed toilet-lid, unlatch the stall door and walk mechanically to the sink. My fingers press against my face, feeling for something out of place, something wrong. My hands find nothing but smooth skin. I press harder, map the shape of my cheekbones, my nose, my jaw, with probing fingers.
Nothing unusual.
My hands fall away, back to my sides and I observe the girl in the mirror. She's pale and unhealthy-looking, milk-white skin, purple bruises under her dull sea-green eyes. Cheeks hollow, hair lifeless and unstyled. I frown, disconcerted, and cast my mind back over the past month, trying to remember the last time I looked in a mirror. I do every morning, I'm sure of it! When I pull on my uniform and brush my hair.
How the hell have I missed this? This... deterioration into a, what- a scrawny, unkempt, street-rat-looking mess? Surely I knew I looked this way before now? But as hard as I try to recall seeing my face before, I can't quite put my finger on the last time I did. Every morning Sakura, you idiot!
Okay, so maybe I've been a little distracted lately, buried in my work, in consuming the knowledge contained in every scroll in Tsunade's medical library. That I remember clearly- the words, the diagrams, the sheer information feeding through my eyes, through my fingertips, into my brain.
Blinking slowly, I acknowledge that I haven't really been paying attention to anything else, that all I can clearly remember is the moments when I'm taken over by this irresistable urge to change, to alter the things that are into the things they could be. The need to press my chakra scalplel against skin and part flesh to reveal the truth underneath.
And subvert it, improve it.
A shudder rocks my thin frame and I grasp the edge of the sink, closing my eyes against the bright lights of the hospital bathroom. What's wrong with me?!
Silence answers my desperate question, no hissing, rasping voice this time. I am almost glad of the quiet- but what if he didn't really do anything to me? What if this is just me, going completely insane? I inhale sharply, tears prickling my eyes. Then anger. Seething, furious rage. I will not be weak! My back straightens, chin lifts, and I meet my eyes in the mirror. I am not weak. I might be going crazy (I giggle a little hysterically at this), but I'm not weak.
I wash my hands, splash my face with cold water, and dry them with paper towel. Re-fortifying myself, preparing to return to my life. Determined that I will eat, I will sleep, I will work, and I will visit Naruto, despite the pang of fear in my chest at the thought that he might somehow detect his presence in my mind.
I remind myself that I am the only one in my head, pull open the door and step back into my life.