(Author's note: The point of view (POV) always shifted between the author's POV and Sakura's POV only, so don't get confused since I wanted to make the story flow naturally).

The night of Sasori's high school party was a descent into an unsettling world for me. I, at the age of 16, found myself surrounded by adults in their twenties, their behavior pushing the boundaries of what I could comprehend. The air was thick with the stench of alcohol and recklessness, and I couldn't help but feel like a vulnerable outsider.

My discomfort grew as I observed the unimaginable antics unfolding around me. Guests engaged in brazen behavior, their actions pushing the boundaries of propriety without a hint of shame. Couples engaged in passionate displays of affection, and the room resonated with laughter fueled by the potent mix of whisky.

Sasuke, my steadfast and devoted boyfriend, remained blissfully unaware of the party's existence. My commitment to the promise I made to Sasori, coupled with the fear of causing issues in my relationship with Sasuke, kept me ensnared in a situation that felt increasingly wrong.

As the night wore on, my anxiety surged. I clung to the periphery of the party, watching in disbelief as my peers reveled in a world I couldn't comprehend, a world that seemed miles away from my own reality.

Sasori, with his sly and cunning demeanor, approached me, his voice laced with mockery, offering me a drink. "Sakura, loosen up a little. You're among friends here."

Reluctantly, I accepted the drink, a sense of foreboding washing over me. As the liquid touched my lips, I felt the world spin, my ability to hold onto reality slipping away.

The effects of the alcohol hit me hard, leaving me disoriented and vulnerable. My vision blurred, and I struggled to maintain my composure.

Hours later, I awoke in a dimly lit room, my head throbbing and my memory fragmented. Panic gripped me as I realized that I had been unconscious, at the mercy of Sasori's malicious intent.

Struggling to gather my thoughts, I forced my eyes to focus. Sasori stood over me, a sinister grin spreading across his face. In his hand, he held a camera, and the horrifying truth became clear—my vulnerability had been captured in photographs, with the malicious intent to sell them to a magazine.

My voice trembled as I attempted to confront him, the sense of betrayal and violation overwhelming. The central conflict that had arisen from my loyalty to a dangerous secret and my commitment to Sasuke had taken a nightmarish turn.

I was trapped in a moral quagmire, one that could shatter the foundations of my relationship with Sasuke and challenge my very sense of integrity. The choices I would make from this point on would define the course of my life, and the battle between my loyalties raged on, threatening to consume me.

...

In the dim, dawning light, consciousness slowly returned to me, like a veil being lifted, revealing the throbbing pain in my head and the disorienting heaviness in my body. Panic surged through me as the memories of the night rushed back, and I became acutely aware of the dire situation I was in. Worse yet, I was totally naked.

Summoning every ounce of courage I possessed, I knew it was time to confront Sasori. With trembling hands, I reached for the camera in his grasp, determined to snatch it away and put an end to his sinister plans.

As my fingers closed around the camera, I mustered the strength to utter, "Sasori, enough! This ends now!"

Sasori, his cold, calculating eyes locking onto mine, retorted with a sinister grin, "Oh, girl, you have no idea what you've stepped into."

The tension in the room crackled like electricity, and I could feel the weight of the moment pressing down upon us, an unspoken battle of wills.

But Sasori, fueled by a man's strength, proved to be an insurmountable force. In a swift, ruthless motion, he overpowered me, sending me crashing to the floor. Agonizing pain shot through my body as I fell, my cries of distress echoing through the room.

Amidst the chaos, our labored breaths filled the room, and I cried out in a mixture of desperation and defiance, "You won't get away with this, Sasori!"

Sasori's face contorted into a malicious sneer, his voice dripping with malevolence as he taunted me, "Oh, but I believe I already have."

Desperation clawed at my throat, and I screamed for help, my voice trembling with terror. The realization washed over me like a suffocating wave—I was trapped in this room with Sasori, and I had no idea how long this nightmare would last.

With an overwhelming sense of dread, I reached out once more, my trembling fingers aiming for Sasori's pocket. I hoped to find his phone and call Sasuke for help, to signal my distress through the ether. But Sasori, quicker and stronger, seized my hand, thwarting my attempt to reach his phone.

I gasped, horror settling in as I realized the gravity of my predicament. Fear surged, intensifying with every passing moment. Sasori loomed over me like a menacing specter, his presence seemingly inescapable.

Just as I felt hope slipping through my trembling fingers, a distant sound pierced the chaotic atmosphere—a series of loud, persistent rings. It was my phone, calling out to me like a lifeline. I knew it had to be my dad or Sasuke, desperately trying to reach me.

"Sakura, you stupid bitch!"

Sasori's frustration flared, his anger palpable, and in a fit of rage, he seized my phone, wrenching it from my grasp and hurling it with brutal force until it collided with the wall, the battery flying out.

I was left in shock and despair, my worst nightmare unfurling before my eyes. Trapped and vulnerable, all I could do was hope, with every fiber of my being, that someone, somewhere, would hear my silent cry for help and come to my rescue before the darkness swallowed me whole.

...

The nightmarish ordeal with Sasori had left me shaken and terrified. As he dropped me off in front of my house, he leaned in, his voice dripping with malice, and issued a chilling threat. "Remember, Sakura, if you ever breathe a word of what happened last night to Sasuke or anyone else, those pictures will be all over the internet, and he'll receive a special package too."

Tears welled up in my eyes as the gravity of his threat sank in. I felt helpless and cornered, a pawn in Sasori's cruel game. I couldn't believe how naively I had walked into this trap, oblivious to his sinister intentions. He, an adult, should have protected me, but instead, he had taken advantage of my innocence.

My trembling hands fumbled with the door, and I stumbled into the living room, my body shaking with sobs. My father, who had been frantically worried about my absence, rushed toward me, his face etched with concern.

"Sakura!" He exclaimed, engulfing me in a tight, reassuring hug. "Where have you been? I've been calling you repeatedly, and I even thought about calling the police."

I clung to my father, my tears staining his shirt as I muttered, "I'm so sorry, Papa. My phone... it's broken."

My father's eyes softened as he continued to hold me close. "You're home now. That's all that matters. We were all worried sick about you."

The mention of 'we' sent a fresh wave of guilt crashing over me. My father, out of concern for my safety, had even contacted Sasuke, who had joined in the search for me despite the late hour, his efforts yielding no results.

My heart ached as my father reached for his phone, intending to call Sasuke and let him know that I had returned home safely. But the guilt of keeping this dark secret weighed heavily on me, and I couldn't bear to let my father make that call.

Tears streamed down my face as I finally confessed, my voice quivering. "Papa, please don't call Sasuke. I... I can't let him know what happened. It's my fault. I made a terrible mistake."

My father's brow furrowed with concern as he held me tighter. "Sakura, whatever it is, you can tell me. We'll figure this out together."

The weight of my secret bore down on me, and I knew that I couldn't keep this burden hidden for long. But for now, all I could do was hold onto my father and pray that someday I would find the strength to confront the darkness that had infiltrated my life.

The tension in the room was thick, suffocating, as the sound of a car engine in the distance heralded an unexpected arrival. The door swung open, revealing my mother, who had just returned from yet another "business trip" with Julian, her flamboyant companion. My father couldn't help but mutter a snarky comment under his breath, his patience worn thin by my mother's frequent absences.

"Ah, the prodigal wife returns," he remarked, his words tinged with sarcasm that lingered in the air.

"My dear, I could use some rest," my mother said casually, seemingly indifferent to my father's comment. "After that, I plan to pack my belongings. I've made the life-altering decision to move out of our home, and I don't know for how long."

My father's face contorted with shock and disbelief, and he couldn't help but confront her about the sudden and heartless announcement.

"What's gotten into you, Mebuki-chan?" My father's voice quivered with a mixture of anger and hurt as he demanded an explanation.

My mother, with an air of indifference that sent shivers down my spine, replied, "I'm tired of being a housewife, Kizashi. Eighteen years of no career and a less than incredible sex life is enough. I want a life where I don't have to be burdened with a child."

My father's bewilderment deepened as he tried to comprehend the enormity of my mother's decision. He desperately searched for understanding, his voice heavy with regret. "I didn't know this was what you wanted, Mebuki. I thought you agreed to be a housewife when we got married."

Their voices began to rise, escalating into a heated exchange as they traded accusations and frustrations. My father, his face etched with sorrow, dared to ask the most painful question of all, "Do you still love me, Mebuki? Do you still love our daughter?"

My mother's response was callous, her indifference cutting through the air like a knife. "I lost love for you a long time ago, Kizashi. And I believe you can take care of our daughter better than I can."

I watched in disbelief as the intensity of their fight transformed into something reminiscent of a childish quarrel from a romantic comedy movie. Their fierce exchange had taken a turn I could never have anticipated.

My mother, with unwavering determination, fired the first shot. "I won't stand for this any longer, Kizashi! Your jealousy and constant suspicion have driven me to the brink of insanity!"

My father, not one to back down, retorted with a mixture of frustration and disbelief. "Jealousy? Insanity? You're gallivanting around the world with that... that charlatan, and you have the audacity to accuse me?"

Their bickering continued, each line more exaggerated than the last, until it almost felt like a scripted performance.

My mother, throwing her hands up dramatically, exclaimed, "I deserve to be happy, Kizashi! Julian understands me in a way you never could!"

My father, his face red with anger, shot back, "Happy? You call this happiness, Mebuki? Running off with a man who thinks a fake tan and monocle make him sophisticated?"

As they exchanged these melodramatic lines, I couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of amusement and sadness. This wasn't how I had expected their confrontation to unfold.

But my mother remained unyielding in her decision. She gave him one final, dramatic glance and left to upstairs which I immediately assumed to pack her remained belongings. The scene that had begun with such intensity now felt like a surreal and painful ending, a tragicomedy of shattered dreams and broken promises.

My mother, in her stubborn resolve, had won this battle, and I couldn't shake the feeling of profound disappointment and sadness as she strolled out of our home with a hefty suitcase.y

My father making a last-ditch effort to stop her. His voice pleaded desperately, "Mebuki, please reconsider! We can work this out!"

As my mother made her way towards the door, my father, desperation etched on his face, took a step forward, blocking her path. "Mebuki, please, think about what you're doing! Running off with that fraud? You're making a mockery of our marriage!"

My mother, her resolve unshaken, tilted her head defiantly and retorted with theatrical flair, "Oh, Kizashi, you always were the dramatic one! Mockery? No, darling, this is my liberation!"

Their exchange continued, the lines blurring between a bitter argument and a farcical stage play.

My father, throwing his arms up in exasperation, exclaimed, "Liberation? Sure, be liberated! But do you really need that feathered hat and melodramatic cape?"

My mother, her voice tinged with sarcasm, replied, "Why, Kizashi, my dear, it's called fashion! Something you clearly know nothing about!"

Their words became more absurd by the second, turning their once-intense fight into a tragicomic performance. But beneath the theatrics, I could sense the real pain and disappointment that had brought us to this surreal and painful ending.

The scene that had begun with such intensity now seemed like a surreal and painful ending. As my father watched my mother leave, the weight of the impending divorce hung heavily in the air, a testament to the shattered dreams and broken promises that had brought us to this heart-wrenching moment.

...

As the days passed, the shadows of my secret grew heavier, and I couldn't shake the fear that had taken root in my heart. I had become a stranger to myself, burdened by the weight of my silence.

Sasuke couldn't ignore the change in me any longer. I had avoided his calls and messages, and when I finally showed up in class, I must have looked like a different person. My face was pale, and the exhaustion in my eyes was unmistakable. He approached me with concern in his voice, reaching out to touch my arm gently.

"Sakura..." Sasuke said, his voice laced with worry.

I pulled away from his touch, refusing to meet his gaze. It hurt me to push him away, but I couldn't bear to involve him in the darkness that had consumed my life.

Naruto, always curious and observant, noticed the abrupt change in my demeanor as well. He approached us, concern etched on his face. "Hey, Sakura, what's happening? You're not yourself lately."

I turned away from both of them, unable to speak the words that would reveal my secrets. Naruto, hurt by my rejection, stepped back, his expression a mix of confusion and disappointment.

Even Karin, who had drifted away from me in the past, couldn't help but wonder about the transformation in the once-fashionable girl of our school. My misery was evident, and I had stopped putting in the effort to maintain my usual appearance.

In the photography club, the sinister presence of Sasori loomed over me like a dark cloud. He kept his distance, watching and waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. When I encountered technical difficulties with my camera, he approached me, his false concern evident in his voice.

"Having trouble, Sakura?" Sasori whispered, his tone dripping with snark. "Don't forget to keep your mouth shut, or I'll release those pictures. You know, you have a very valuable asset to sell."

I trembled, my heart pounding in fear as I tried to move away from him. Sasori's smirk deepened, and he crossed his arms, biding his time.

Later, during photography club practice, Sasuke approached me with concern in his eyes. He gently poked my forehead, a gesture that had always brought a smile to my face in the past. But now, I couldn't meet his gaze, and I turned to walk away.

Sasuke, refusing to let me go, grabbed my hand and pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me in a comforting embrace. The warmth of his presence offered a momentary respite from the darkness that threatened to engulf me, but I knew that the secrets I carried were tearing us apart.

...

Amidst the photography club's practice session, Sasori seized a moment when most members were absorbed in their work, including Sasuke. He feigned interest in the club's laptop, pretending to browse the files, and with practiced precision, he navigated to the club's members' data file. His fingers danced across the keyboard as he sought out Sasuke's email address.

Time seemed to slow as he located what he was looking for, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips. With a subtle movement, he inserted his flash drive into the laptop's USB port, transferring the damning images of Sakura onto the device.

Swiftly, Sasori switched to his second secret email account, the one he had created for this very purpose. He attached the compromising pictures and composed a sinister message before sending it to Sasuke's email address.

As the message sent, Sasori's heart raced with anticipation. He knew that once Sasuke saw those photos, the world as Sakura knew it would come crashing down. With calculated precision, he logged out of his email and removed the flash drive from the laptop, concealing his sinister actions from prying eyes.

Karin, eager to learn more about photography techniques, approached Sasori. To the outside world, he appeared as he always did—knowledgeable and helpful, with no hint of the dark secrets he harbored.

- To Be Continued -