NUMBER SIX

CASTLE’S MADE OF SAND – JIMI HENDRIX

Gaara

Silence resonated off the walls of the Kazekage’s office. Behind the large oak desk sat a quiet, red haired man.

Gaara started to twiddle his thumbs, looking around into the corners of the room, searching for something to entertain him. He really didn’t want to be left with his thoughts.

Leaning over the arm of his chair, he pulled open his drawer, pulling out the battered picture of his mother.

He felt his heart clench, just looking at the picture. What had she really felt? Would she be proud of him at the moment? Or disappointed? Did she want more for him? Did she want him to experience the love, and touch of another person? Did she even want him to live?

Resting his hand against his head, Gaara tried to still his endless thoughts that kept prodding and probing, confusing, hurting, killing him.

He screamed as it was too much to bear. Standing up hastily, he dropped the picture that had landed in his lap, causing the frame to shatter, and the glass covering crack.

Sadly, Gaara looked at the broken pieces, as if he was looking at the broken pieces of his heart.

Was he really that torn? That, damaged, that he couldn’t even face his siblings for long periods of time, without feeling, suffocated?

Is that what he really wanted? Did he want to live the end of his days alone?

“No, I don’t.”

Pulling the white and blue robe over his head, the young man threw it aside, causing it to land on the gourd he took with him everywhere.

Gaara paused, looking at his safety blanket intently. That sand had been with him for years, shielding him from everything. Absolutely everything.

Squaring his shoulders, Gaara took one last look at the giant container, turning on his heel barging out the door without it.

It was time his castle of sand started to crumble in the sea.