Yo! Wammy's House Reject here with another Akatsuki fanfic ;) This will be a multi-chaptered fic featuring Deidara. Ideas and concrit are welcome. Reviews will be printed, framed, and put on my wall to prove to my parents that people LIKE my writing :D
The child thrashed and screamed, fighting his captors with all the might in his tiny body. His hands clenched into tiny, weak, (laughable) fists as he tried to fight the men off. They were stronger than him, however, and They soon had him defeated.
They strapped him down, ignoring his cries and pleas for mercy. Setting to work with scalpels and knives, They dug into his tender flesh, disregarding his screams of pain. The boy shrieked and struggled, then began whimpering in agony as his flesh peeled away.
His captors poked around inside him, moving around internal organs as if searching for something.
(They're always searching for something. The boy sometimes wonders what They're looking for when They see fit to torture him [that's really all it is: torture.] or if they'll ever find it.)
It hurt. It hurt so badly that he wanted nothing more than to die. It felt like his insides had been set on fire, burning with unquenchable flames.
(Any other child would cry for his mother: but he has never had a mother to cry for.)
(A quiet, hoarse, broken voice. A voice that shouldn't belong to a child.)
(Just ignore it. Try to think of somewhere else, and the pain might go away.
He doesn't have anywhere else to think of.)
It seemed like ages before They closed him up and bandaged the gaping wounds.
(They don't want him to die, despite all the pain They put him through. He's of more use to Them alive.)
The boy didn't cry. He wouldn't give them that kind of pleasure. The people who did this to him loved to see him cry, calling him 'responsive' or 'lively.' The child didn't know what any of that meant. Neither did he care.
He just wanted the pain to stop.