White was the most common color for walls. Everyone always said that, anyway. But they didn't really know. They didn't see the truth of what they called white walls. No one would appreciate the off-white of most walls until they truly learned how white a wall could be. When you reached a point when all you saw all day and all night was the blinding whiteness of padded walls – then you started to hate the color white. It lost It's grace, it's magnificence, it's purity. It lost everything, and all that was left of it was a shiny bright invisible reflection of whatever color you were feeling.
After three colorless years – Gaara was tainted in white.
"Do you want to tell me how you got those scars?"
He almost wanted to laugh. The lady sounded like the Joker from that new batman movie. He half expected her to stick a knife in his mouth and 'put a smile on that face.' He half expected himself to let her.
She frowned at that, and scribbled on her note pad a little. The notepad was white, her skin was white, her hair was covered by a white cap. Gaara himself and the black ink she was marking the paper with were competing to see who could show the most color. Gaara figured he'd have had to be winning – considering he had about six different shades of imperfection on his face alone.
Pink lips. Red hair. Green eyes, and the dark circles under them. Skin that was tan, yet still unnaturally pale when one reminded themselves of how much time he spent in the sun. The last color was – gratefully – off white. Almost perfectly white, but more of an ivory tone – that would be Gaara's teeth.
"Not all of them, then. How about you just tell me about the one on your forehead?"
She was beginning to annoy him now. "I don't want to talk about them. Especially not that one." He muttered; but he knew she could hear him.
"Fine. We can skip the small talk," Since when was discussing fresh wounds self-inflicted on one's own flesh small talk? "How about you tell me about why you killed that girl in your class?"
Gaara smiled then, and knew that he must have looked insane. That was fine. They'd stuck him in this place anyway, so he might as well play the part.
"Well, that can be a very short story, or a very long one."
She glanced up at the clock, then. It was a very ugly clock. White back, with pale grey rubber hands. There was nothing pointed or sharp in this room.
"We've got only minutes to spare, so we can come back to the long version tomorrow. How about you just tell me how it is that you killed her, and we can get to the why later?"
His grin only widened sadistically. "She had it coming, you know. She deserved death, but since you've asked me how it is I killed her, I guess I'll have to be perfectly honest with you…" He let his voice trail off, teasing the woman, knowing that at this point she was hanging to his every word. It wasn't that simple though. She couldn't merely question him and expect to solve the murder mystery that had been ongoing for the past three years, now could she?
"So be honest." She said, starting to get anxious. "How did you manage to kill her?"
"Well, that's very simple – I didn't."
Which do you do for the one you love? Live for them, or die for them? Give them your life, or give your life in their sake? How many nights can one person pray to whatever gods are listening that their loved ones will be okay? Better yet – how long did it take before you grew sick and weary from wondering. How long would it be before you learned to accept that prayer was worthless, death was meaningless, and life was pointless. How many years would pass until you could come to the conclusion that everything is nothing, and nothing will ever be anything again.
It took three years.
It took three years of never seeing the natural light of day. Three years of padded white walls. Three years of visits with different psychologists as they tried to map their way through the complex maze of your mind.
It took three years, eight social workers, five doctors, two mental institutions, ten pairs of Fruit of the Loom boxer briefs, one bed, four blankets, a pillow that must have been stuffed with rocks – and a stubbornness that could be unmatched.
Sasuke Uchiha hadn't spoken a word for three years.
He sat in silence with the headshrinker sitting across from him. They never spoke. The therapist had at least accepted that much. Sasuke could barely recall the sound of his own voice, but they hadn't asked any questions worth answering.
They were all the same question really : What happened that night? How did she die? Which of you did it, and how did you pull it off?
That was all anybody wanted to know anymore. Everyone had their own tale to tell about that day, three years ago. The day Sakura Haruno died – and it was a good thing she did.
Sasuke knew that no matter who that asked or what they asked, they'd end up eventually realizing the same thing from everyone – Sasuke was the only person who saw everything.
Oh sure, everyone was there. Everyone had their eyes open. But only one person really saw – and he wouldn't speak about it.
So far, the police had decided that they must have killed her together. That it must have been some sort of plot thought up by all of them, and that Sasuke was the evil mastermind behind all of it. They never would have guessed that he was all at once the least and most involved.
In truth – when that fateful day had come, he'd been the only person involved who didn't wake up that morning fully aware that Sakura Haruno would be found dead in her favorite teacher's classroom by the time the day was over. Still, it could easily be argued that he was the only person capable of preventing her death, although he'd chosen not to.
Letting Sakura die was a choice Sasuke prided himself in, but no one else knew he'd made it. It was his own personal secret.
And he was taking it to the grave.
A/N: So, how are you feeling about this new fanfic? I know it seems kind of crazy and stuff, but I'm really liking the way the outline is looking, and hopefully you'll end up liking this fanfic too!
Now, although this chapter was clean, I'll warn you that there will be some pretty graphic stuff in this fanfic, including sex scenes – mostly for ItaSasu, but perhaps for a couple more pairings that will arise as the story progresses.
I really hope that you deem me worthy of a REVIEW!
Love and thanks for reading,