My first fantiction ever submitted... whoa ..; Please, please, please be kind. But please: rate and give tips or pointers or mention errors I made, just don't flame. I can't handle it. Do you want me to kill myself?
Sasuke: Survey says yes.
Oh shut up you little butthead o.0
Her face crinkled in defeat, hot tears streaming abundantly down her cheeks.
Desperation picked at her, trying to crack her inner shell and devour her whole, licking it's chops with glee.
Sobs racked her chest, threatening to break from her lungs in an awful, crying scream to tell the world of her pain.
Having a child... was supposed to mean joy and love and family, but for Temari, it meant none of these things.
For God's sake, the kazekage had engaged her to a rich man of another nation, a powerful man who gladly would take her for his wife and treat her well and leave to her his fortune.
But being steadily defiant, Temari had decided not to leave the comfort of her boyfriend's arms until the wedding- but now, she was pregnant.
In fact, she was overjoyed with the concept of having a little child, and raising and loving it, but a baby around her brothers, especially Gaara? The kazekage, her father? Would he make the child into a monster as well? And her fiance- he wouldn't accept this! A baby not his own? Hardly.
One hand's slender fingers slipped under her shirt, feeling the smooth, round firmness of her belly, just barely concealed by her baggy clothes, the other hand pressing up against the darkened bathroom window. A silvery cloud removed itself from the moon's passage, and angelic white light flooded in, revealing that her stomach was becoming so large that it even created a shadow.
Tears began welling up in her eyes again, but this time, she silenced her crying and decided that it was enough.
Walking slowly down the endless hall of her father's mansion, she reached her room, packing a single bag wih clothes and food. At first, she began to hurry from the room, but paused, taking into account that she would never see it again. Her fingers traced over the paneling window, and gazed at the sharp winds that whipped up streaks of sand and toyed with them, twisting and tormenting them beyond believe. Her bunk bed that she shared with Kankuro and then Gaara so long ago, her stuffed toys, her books and little plastic horses... everything.
Though it would be hard, she would give it all up, all her possessions and wealth, for the health and safety of her child.
With realization, she saw... that it was alright.
Silently, she slipped from her room, her eyes running over the pictures that lined the hallway of her brothers, father, mother, aunts and cousins, and of the great portraits hung in heavy frames.
Picking the lock to her father's study, she pulled a floorboard up and quickly packed all the money she found into her bag. "Hope you won't miss this, Daddy." she murmured sarcastically.
Temari, for the most part, hated her father. He exploited all three of his children, didn't grieve for her mother, and turned her youngest brother into an awful beast, with little emotion and gave him no affection. And his frustration... he once screamed at her for an hour when she dropped a stack of plates when she was cleaning up after dinner.
The moment had never been in real time-- the dishes floated through air before shattering into a thousand pieces on the tile floor.
After his commotion, Temari ran crying to her room, stifling herself as she burrowed into the quilts and blankets of her bed. Kankuro peered at her from the top bunk, mostly careless to whatever it was she was crying about.
"Don't look at me, freak!" shrieked Temari angrily, trying to avoid his uncaring, critical stare.
The door to their room, open to a crack, was slowly pushed open by no one other than Gaara, his blue eyes then so large and empty.
"What is it, Temari?" he asked, and she could tell he actually was concerned.
He had been like that before- he could almost understand emotion and feeling and pain.
She sniffed, and the entire incident flashing painfully through her mind again, she began to cry again, other bad memories adding on like salt on a wound.
Through watery eyes, she could see her little brother take the folded quilt from the corner of her bed and struggle to open it, and then lying the quilt at her feet, which her hugged to her chest.
"I'm sorry." he said, his eyes stared sadly at the floor.
She had twisted her face, confused. What was he sorry about? Temari didn't know her brother that well, mostly because her father's insistance of his training all day.
Not wanting to risk making his angry or displeased with her, she only whispered, "Please don't be."
If her father had simply loved that child, and allowed him to have friends and play with Kankuro and herself, she doubted he would be a freak.
But it wasn't her concern now.
Leaving the home she had lived in for eighteen years and stepping into the ravaging winds of the Nation of Sand, Temari was never to return.
::Author's note:: So? So? Whatcha think? A little short, I know. TELL ME BEFORE MY HEAD EXPLODES O.O