Deadly Memories by blackdragonflower Gaara is owned by Masashi Kishimoto. This story is from his perspective. This is dedicated to my friend shadowsand.
I practice a forbidden art; the forbidden art of death.
Sand, it seems so harmless but it's so deadly between my fingertips. I'm a monster, yes a monster to you all. I'm not 'worthy' for your pathetic eyes. You are afraid, afraid to admit your fear but afraid to die.
I cry when I'm alone at night. The night is too long, too silent and too long. I see you all nestling under your covers for warmth. I've seen it all, wives beside husbands, harems toying with 'justified honorable' men during the late hours as crickets chirp. You all make me laugh and you all make me cry when you're not around. You're all so pathetic, so, defenseless. The sight I see, the one that sickens me the most of all are the mothers. It hurts to see them.
They tuck their little ones into bed all the love shared. Why couldn't I have that love? Why are they so lucky when I was thrown aside a monster! What must it be like, to have a mother? I wish you could be here mother. Maybe you would love me… You would hug me and kiss me and make an angel from a demon in hell. I wouldn't have to kill to feel so alive… If only I could have a little love…
I've killed another to satisfy the bloodlust at least for a little while. The pooled blood, the deep crimson blood that stains my fingers is so sweet. I feel so wrong though, oh so wrong this time. I grip my head in pain and kneel over my forehead touching the dark cool substance. My scream pierces the deathly still night. I'm so confused, am I experiencing pain? My heart feels, torn out, destroyed, any sanity I had left thrown aside. I lifted my face from the dirt. The blood had stained my kanji and ran down that side of my face, dripping calling out to me. The blood, oh how it shines in the moonlight.
I looked upon the one I had killed so easily, the life I had snatched away. A sick realization struck me as I looked upon my victim. I was afraid, more alone then ever before. I was scared as I stared at the dead boy a teddy bear soaked in blood laying beside him within arms reach. His hair was dyed red in the blood and he wore the usual Suna clothing. I wanted to get far, as far away as possible. I picked up the boy and the bear and crushed them in sand. All the embalmed remains I hid away in my gourd, my dark secret to now carry. I wanted to keep my soul! This little boy stole my soul!
I realized as I walked away how afraid I was.
I had killed myself and buried what was left of me in the depths of the desert, never to be found again.