Alternate chapter titles: Chinese Water Torture. (or) Drip.


Glasgow smile (plural Glasgow smiles)

A facial scar received from being cut on the edge of the mouth, resembling an extended smile.


SICKLY SMILE

When Hidan got home he took a long shower, sitting down in it, letting the scalding water run over his skin and turn it pink.

When he got out he did not bother to get a towel right away and instead stood naked in the small bathroom, water dripping on the floor. He could hear rain against the roof, a noise that the shower must have blocked out.

He looked in the bathroom mirror.

His neck was developing bruises, purpling marks shaped faintly like Kakuzu's hand that stood out disturbingly on his white skin. He smiled a little.

He looked like a victim of domestic abuse. It wasn't really funny, but Hidan laughed anyway.

He wrapped a towel around his waist, picked up his clothes that he had left on the floor, opened the door and walked to his room across the hall. When he he laid on his bed it took him a moment to remember that his roof leaked in various places, and one of those places was right above his bed.

Drip.

It landed right on his forehead. He twitched.

Drip.

Maybe, he supposed, he should move. But he couldn't.

Drip.

He was beginning to feel ill. But he hadn't eaten anything and he had already emptied his stomach of schnapps.

Drip.

Hidan closed his eyes.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

He tried to ignore it.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Hidan couldn't take it anymore, just barely making it across the hall to vomit in the toilet. This time his vomit was a sickly yellow color and it smelled terrible and tasted worse. He had paid just enough attention in health class to realize he must have just thrown up his own bile.

He flushed the toilet and stood stumbling over to the sink, his mind clouded, similar to his earlier intoxication, but no where near as pleasant. He turned on the faucet and cupped water into his mouth, trying to wash out the putrid taste.

Then he looked in the mirror. His skin looked strangely waxy, his eyes glassy. He looked like some kind of doll, like the one's she had played with.

His eyes drifted to his bruises. Mmm, maybe some kind of... deformed doll. A broken doll.

He licked his scabby lips. It almost sounded poetic. He assumed. He didn't read a lot of poetry. It sounded like one of the bad dark poems that emo kids supposedly wrote. He leaned against the mirror, sweat induced from vomiting smudging the glass.

He felt sick. His neck hurt.

He thought about Kakuzu choking him. He frowned.

Then he smiled a sickly smile.

He slept on the bathroom floor, fighting back nausea and listening to rain pound on the roof, the same sickly smile on his face.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

END CHAPTER 9


Question that may be in your mind: "What weird obsession do you with vomiting?" I dislike vomiting very much, and while I was sick a few months ago, I threw up a lot. So it's just sort of where my mind goes when I'm thinking of bad things happening.

Much... quieter chapter then the others, but it's somewhat of a transitional chapter. I actually have a vague idea where this is going right now! I usually don't.

Please review, but as always, do not flame. Constructive criticism makes me happy though.