Orochimaru was shaking with jittery laughter as he ran up the stair two at a time. "I did it!" He said as he threw open the door of his apartment and kicking it shut with his foot. "They're all dead, no one can get to her anymore!" he screamed with laughter.
He collapsed against the wall, still roaring with laughter as his blood coated hand searched for the light switch. He found it and turned it on. His laughter halted and his smiled disappeared as his eyes landed on the woman standing in the middle of his living room with her arms crossed and head down.
Usually, Orochimaru would been quite turned one by the sight of his girlfriend standing clad only in one of his shirts, but it was what was on the shirt that caused his stomach to go cold.
She was wearing the white, blood-stained, long sleeved shirt and jeans he had been wearing when he had broken Deidara's arms and pulled most of Ino's hair out. She knew the truth, she knew what sin he had committed.
"You like it?" she asked in a low voice.
Orochimaru stared at her in fear. "I…"
She walked slightly closer to him. So beautiful.
"Does it look better on me…than it did on you when you slaughtered Deidara and Ino?"
He gasped at the coldness and hatred in her voice.
"I knew something like this would happen." She rasped, her hand clutching on of stained areas on her chest. "You were always shooting death glares at people who even batted their eyes at me and would threaten any one, man or woman, who tried to talk to me. But…" Her hand clenched the shirt even tighter; her face was plagued with anger and…guilt?
"Why?" she screamed at him. "Why Deidara and Ino? You knew what they meant to me!"
Orochimaru looked at the ground.
"Why!" she shouted again, causing him to jump slightly. "Damn it, answer me!"
Tears were swelling up in the corners of her eyes now. Crying was something she hadn't done since the night Itachi and Deidara raped her and she went to Orochimaru for comfort. There was always something about him that made her fell so at ease and happy, even when he acted like an ass. But now that the images of the comrades whom she had hated yet loved so much were flashing across her mind, she hated him.
"Because…" he choked out, his hands curled up into fists and he looked up at her. His hair covered half his face, as if he were deciding between the right and wrong. "Because…I love you, Anko."
Anko's eyes widened and her stomach went cold; there was something so wrong about how he said that.
"I love you, Anko. I love you so much."
Anko started to step back as he staggered closer.
"I don't want anyone to hurt you…like Itachi and Deidara did."
She gasped. "Itachi? You got Itachi, too?"
"I had to." His shaky reached out to her, but she ducked from it and ran, only to be grabbed surprisingly gently.
"Anko." He said as he tried to contain her. Her struggles caused both of them to fall back onto the floor. She kicked and tried to squirm out from under him but he in such a gingerly way forced both of her hands beside her head and straddled her to keep her from kicking her. "Anko, stop."
He forced his mouth down on hers and muffled her screams of hate and pain. They remained in that position until Anko could only shake.
"I can't imagine," he stated in between pecks around her neck. "someone else ever kissing you," his hands cautiously left her wrists and traveled slowly to the area below her breasts "touching you," one of his hands went back up to a strayed tear and wiped it away and cupped her cheek "or loving you, Anko. I want you to be mine and mine alone." He eased off of her slightly. He was going to allow her this one choice, or she could join her "friends" in the afterlife.
Anko stared at him in disbelief. Was this truly who she had fallen in love with a year ago? This possessive, crazed, yet wonderful monster, who was willing to destroy her demons for her. Her own shaking hands traveled to his waist, holding it like he had held her arms, keeping him from an escape. One reached up to cup his cheek. "I…"
She did love him. She loved his strength, his jealousy, and every little thing. However, there was a time when she felt the same about Itachi, Deidara, and Ino.
"I do understand…but loved them, too."
"Just please get off me."
His teeth gnashed together and he yanked her up with force he had never used on her. He threw her into a wall and grabbed her shoulders to keep her in place.
"How can you not understand?" he raged. "Do you not remember the night you came to me after what they did to you?"
Anko squeezed her eyes shut, the memories nowhere near welcomed.
"Itachi and Deidara drugged and raped you! And that fucking Ino just watched. So help me God, Anko, I stayed neutral for your sake then, but I will be damned that I'd do it now just because you fucking forgave them!"
He yanked her chin up. "No, dear, you shut up." He kissed her harshly, not caring if it hurt her. One of his hands crept down to the jeans she was wearing and tried to undo the buttons while she struggled.
"Orochimaru," she got a leg to his stomach. "STOP!"
She kicked him so that he stumbled back and fell over the coffee table sitting there.
He stayed on his side for a moment, his adrenalin slowly fading away. He was no better than them, forcing himself on her like he had tried to. He sat up on one knee and stared at her curled up form on the wall. She looked so scared, so much like she had that night two years ago. He watched her stand up, her arms curled against her chest.
Something was controlling her actions. The thing made her walk to him, to stare at him, to crouch down to his level. She was looking at the face of a monster, which thought of her to be his whole world. This was so terrifying to her, yet so wholesome. Her slender arms circled his neck and closed him in a tight embrace.
"You're crazy." She cried. "You're so fucking crazy."
He copied her motions. "But you love it so much."
A few hours later, Anko was staring at the shadows dancing on his wall to the rhythm of his hand stroking her back.
She was covered with sweat and his body was burning next to her, yet her entire being was still so cold. But there was no longer a sense of remorse or anger, just fulfillment. She kept trying to think of why she had felt that way earlier. She knew it had something to do with two blonds and a pacifist liar, but she couldn't even remember what they looked like so she couldn't match up anything.
Her memories of her old world were fading like the scent of blood on the clothes Orochimaru had ripped off of her.