Adult-FanFiction.org : Naruto

ⲃⳙⲧⲧⲉⲅ⳨ⳑⲩ	By : Sessakag Category: Naruto > Het - Male/Female > Naruto/Hinata Views: 4852 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, just the story I write

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Chapter One
Hell

November 15, 2004
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A harsh breeze whipped through the night, shaking skinny trees made nearly bare by incoming winter, rustling piles of fallen, sunset colored leaves. She braced herself, huddling closer to the towering tree in her backyard, drawing scrapped knees tight to her little chest. She wanted to cover her arms like she had her toes with her long skirt but the sleeves were too short. A softer wind swept her cheek-length hair from her nape, though it felt far colder than the first one. Shivering, she curled her bare toes in the dirt beneath her feet, though it didn't really feel warm.
Her teeth chattered, and a wave of the bad feeling squeezed her chest.
Another wind roared in, tugging angrily at her clothes, blowing her hair around her head, nearly knocking her over.
Tears burned behind her tightly shut eyes.
Maybe the wind was mad at her too.
She spent what felt like forever, she worried if she would ever be able to feel her fingers and toes again, before the wind stopped for good. And when it was quiet, she poked her head from her safety huddle, peeking at the darkness around her.
Shadows danced along the wooden fence around the yard, a few of them reaching across father's perfect cut grass towards her.
It was scary...so scary...but...
She stole a timid glance at the back porch, her heart racing as she stared at the locked doors.
It was better, being out here.
Even if there were big scary monsters outside, they couldn't be worse than the monsters that lived inside her house.
Hot liquid trickled from her nose, filling her nose with the smell of old coins. She wiped away the drip, tears welling in the single eye that wasn't swollen completely shut.
It hurt.
Her face, her body, her heart.
Everything hurt.
She didn't know why father was so mean, why he kept hitting her, what she was doing wrong.
Maybe...maybe she just didn't understand because she was kid.
She was only five.
Maybe if he told her what she was doing wrong she could stop. And then...
And then, maybe he wouldn't have to hit her anymore.
She swallowed sickly, grimacing as her bloody lips stung.
Or maybe...it wouldn't matter.
Father got mad a lot about the house being dirty, so she cleaned it all the time, even when she couldn't really see any dirt, but...she still got hit. She kept quiet because father said her voice was too loud, but then he told her she wasn't loud enough when he asked her questions, and then, she got hit.
He told her she was bad, that she was always bad and bad girls were supposed to get hit, so she tried to be good all time but even that didn't seem to work. So she stayed in her room up in the attic, hiding until he called for her, hoping he'd be happier if he didn't have to see her face.
That didn't work either.
Nothing she did ever made him happy.
She didn't know how to change the hate in his eyes, how to stop his fists.
She swiped another tear, sucking back a whimper as pain shot up her cheek.
Maybe there really wasn't anything she could do.
Maybe, there was just something wrong with her.
Father wasn't the only one that hated her, her whole family did. They hit her too, just like father, and made fun of her stutter.
They at her like she were one of the rats in the attic.
Nobody ever looked at her that soft look, the one she saw on the face of the parents outside her window. No one cared whether she had eaten, if she was cold, sick or upset. No one cared if she slept in her cot in the attic or in the dirt outside.
She truly was...nothing.
She meant nothing.
In this cruel world, she was nothing.
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November 18, 2004
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Father was gone again and had been for three days now.
She was grateful for each day because each one was a whole day she that she wouldn't be hit, but they were really hard days. She knew how to take care of herself a little bit, she used her potty on her own now, and she knew where the band aids were. Father brought her a small meal once a day, but she knew what her plate looked like and that it was in on the bottom row in the fridge. This time was different though, those other times she wasn't as hurt as she was today. There was something wrong with her arm, and when she moved it to much the pain made little black circles dance in front of her eyes and sometimes it made her sleep, but, it wasn't the good sleep, it was the bad one that happened when father hit her really hard or for a really long time.
Today though, today her tummy hurt worse than her body and it was getting hard to stand. She knew this painful feeling, father made her feel sometimes when he locked her in the attic, she needed food.
Rising slowly from her cot, she swung her bare feet to the cold floor and breathed.
That hurt.
Moving at all hurt so much.
Her tummy squeezed hard, painfully.
With a whimper, she hunched over, pressing her less injured arm around it.
She had to get up.
Tears leaked down her cheeks as she forced herself up and off the cot; wobbling on her bruised legs before flopping back on the cot as they gave out, the force knocking her arm. The little black dots came back as pain pushed a scream from her lips.
The room spun, and it took everything not to throw up. She'd get in trouble if she did. Father hated that a lot.
It took her two more tries to get up and longer than forever to drag herself downstairs and across the huge house she lived in. Nobody was home. Not father or her aunt, not even her cousins. She could barely push open the kitchen door by the time she reached it, panting as she tried to stay upright. She felt really tired and her body felt hard to move. She passed by the stoves and long counters, walking gingerly to the fridge, careful not to bump her aching arm as she held it close to her body. The fridge door was heavy, and she had to rest once before she was able to pull the door open.
Inside, there was so much food.
So many kinds she had never tasted in her life. Sweet treats her cousins ate in front of her and made fun of her for not being allowed to have any. She wanted to try some too, especially the little red circle ones with the little green leafs at the top, but...she knew better.
She...wasn't allowed to touch this food.
None of it...
Her stomach growled then ached, folding her in half again, the pain even worse.
Holding back tears, she straightened enough to reach for the plate with three fridge burned nuggets on a plastic plate on the bottom; left overs from the last meal father gave her, the meal she hadn't gotten to finish. She grabbed one nugget and shoved it in her mouth, willing herself to chew despite the pain it brought her swollen face.
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December 27, 2004
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She lay motionless in the two small puddles father had left her in.
One bloody, the other yellow. The yellow the reason for the bloody one.
She wet herself...again.
She was six now, too old for accidents, he said. She was disgusting, soiling herself like an animal he said. She deserved it, every beating he gave her, she deserved it...he said.
Maybe this time...she really had brought it on herself. She knew, wetting herself made father really really mad, but...she couldn't help it.
She was scared...she was always scared, but she hadn't been her regular scared. Today, father had looked like a demon when he yelled at her earlier, he always did on her birthday, and while screamed and shouted at her, called her bad names she wouldn't dare repeat, her heart had been pounding so hard she was afraid she would die. Watching his fisted hands with wide eyes, she had silently prayed he wasn't going to use them on her. When he waved his arms, when he raised them up the way he had, she knew it could come at any time. He never told her when he was going to hit her. There were times where he would start hitting before he was even done screaming at her.
While he shouted and said bad words at her, she was getting read for the first punch, trying to get air in her lungs as she waited for it, and then, it happened. She peed. Right in front of father. She hadn't even known that she needed to go. She couldn't feel it.
All she could feel was scared.
And that's when it started...
A door slammed, startling her, ripping her away from the bad memory of five minutes ago.
Father was gone now.
She lay in silence for a while, in that weird space where she couldn't feel anything at all. She liked this place, even though it was scary not feeling, but it stopped her from hurting for a little while...
She woke up. She didn't know when she fell asleep or for how long. She could feel now, but she wish she couldn't.
She cried for a long time in her puddle, whining pitifully as the pain hit her. She knew no one would come and help her, that they wouldn't care about her crying until it started to get on their nerves. That thought was what stopped her tears. She didn't want that to happen. She would get hurt again.
The smelly liquid beneath her was cold now. Cold and gross. She was supposed to clean this up...but...
She couldn't move.
She hurt so bad.
Her head felt too big to lift and the short breaths she took made her sides hurt, but if she didn't get up before her eyes swelled, she wouldn't be able to see the mess she had to clean. And if she didn't clean it up, she'd get worse when father got home. It was pure misery, lifting her body, agony the likes no child should ever experience washed over her tiny frame. She wanted to suck in a stabling breath, to exhale the pain carving her insides but it hurt to breathe. Her ribs wouldn't let her take more than a few shallow gasps every few seconds. On trembling arms, sticky wet hair brushing her cheeks, she pushed away from the floor, willing the meager strength in them to hold her. Blood trickled from her nose, drizzling over her busted lips. Her tongue throbbed, stinging viciously, a feeling she knew all too well.
She'd bitten it again.
There was a certain way she held her mouth when he punched her in the face, it usually stopped her from biting her tongue.
She had forgotten to do it this time.
She listed on her feet, then collapsed against the kitchen cabinet. A bang sounded somewhere in the house and a panicked cry left her throat, certain that was the front door and father was coming. Her panicked eyes glued themselves to the kitchen door, terrified father would see she hadn't cleaned, that he had heard her crying.
She wasn't allowed to scream, even when he was beating her.
She wasn't allowed to cry, even when she was alone.
Screams led to kicks and punches...
Tears led her to an empty tummy for days...
Even if she cried but wipe away the tears, her red puffy eyes would put her in the dark place under the house...
And if she didn't clean the floor, she'd get all three.
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February 7th, 2005
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She was cold.
She was hungry.
But she couldn't go home. Father had been drinking that bitter stuff again and she knew what would happen if she was in the house. She hadn't been hit in a few days, and she really wanted to be pain free for a little while longer.
She walked the dirt path silently, wincing each time something sharp dug into the softness of her bare feet. She hadn't had time to grab her ratty shoes with holes, or even her worn down jacket two sizes too big for her. The moment he reached for that bottle, panic set in, and making as little noise as possible, she snuck out the back door, crawled through the little gap in the fence and took off for the woods behind their house.
She chaffed her thin arms, teeth chattering as she walked.
She would go home tomorrow, when it was safe.
Father usually slept really late after drinking the bitter drink all day and night.
Laughter trilled through the air, freezing her in place.
There was a boy running towards. Blonde hair, vivid blue eyes, curious lines on his cheeks like that of cat whiskers. He was laughing as he ran through the brush, something she had never done before. He was clean like cousin Kyo, his orange sweatshirt fitted and hole free, his tan shorts were a little dirty but far cleaner than her dress. His sneakers were filthy, caked in mud and grass though she couldn't find a single hole. She couldn't see his arms but...he didn't have any bruises...not anywhere.
His smile was bright, his laughter echoing in the hushed forest. Her red rimmed eyes soaked up his joyful form, rooted to the spot by his carefree happiness, his vibrancy.
Energetic.
Radiant.
He reminded her of the sun above, so warm and bright.
Who was this little boy? she wondered.
So struck was she, she forgot to hide and by the time she remembered, it was much too late.
He noticed her.
Slowing on the dirt trial, that vivacious bundle turned his ocean eyes to her, his intense stare rooting her in place even more than she was. Her pulse raced, heart pounding so hard she felt like she might pass out. Standing before her seconds later, the child took in her shabby appearance, curiosity crinkling his blonde brows as he took in her dirty feet, stained dress and healing cheek, then met her gaze. The boy blinked, his piercing cobalt gaze still curious but a bit...weary.
"How come your eyes look like that?" he questioned, "its really weird, 'ttebayo."
She didn't know what she had expected from this encounter...but...it hadn't been that. Saddened, she turned them to the dirt. Maybe she should have prepared for that. She didn't know why that hurt her, she should be used to it by now.
Father didn't like her eyes either...nobody did.
"Ah, I'm sorry!" the boy exclaimed, waving his little hands around, making her nervous in the process, "I didn't mean to make you sad! I just...never seen eyes like that before."
He stretched a placating hand towards her.
"I wasn't-"
She moved before she even realized it, backing away from that outstretched hand, feeling skittish and scared. Their eyes met, his confused and questioning, hers fearful and uncertain. This child was bigger than her, not by much, but certainly large enough to hurt her. Human interaction without pain wasn't something she dealt with often, and this was the first child she'd ever spoken to, or even seen up close, besides cousin Kyo, and cousin Kyo was mean.
She swallowed, dread filling her tummy.
She wasn't sure how to interact with this boy.
Her stomach growled, the gurgling loud in the silence between them. The golden haired child blinked, then dug around in the pocket of his jacket.
"Here," he offered, offering her a half eaten sandwich.
She stared at the bread, cheese and meat a beat, then looked back at the boy.
"You can have it. You're hungry right?"
She was starving actually...and had been for the better part of the week. Father hadn't beaten her, a few slaps here and there, but he also hadn't fed her that often.
She reached out slowly and took the food in her trembling hand.
"I gotta go, my dad's coming to get me soon. I'm really sorry, I wasn't trying to make fun of your eyes, 'ttebayo. I swear," he turned, but paused, as if unsure if he wanted to leave, "its really cold, you should probably go home too before your mom and dad find out you went out to play with no shoes on. My mom always yells at me when I forget."
He gave a disconcerted smile.
"Well...I better go," he repeated, "bye."
She stood holding that half eaten sandwich long after the boy left. And as she stared at the gesture of kindness, tears filled her hollowed eyes.
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February 13, 2016
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Chirping bird fluttered by her window, whistling her a sweet tune as they passed. She pressed her hand to the glass, silent gratitude for their melodious trill. It was cold beneath her fingers, though not as cold as it should have been mid-February, another sign of an early spring this year. She watched the birds disappear beyond the clouds, then turned back to face her reality.
Her new life.
Starting with her surroundings.
This room...the one that was to be her new bedroom, was so big, so opposite of her little closet in the attic and a bit...intimidating. She felt really silly feeling anxious standing in a normal sized teen-girl sleeping quarters. She knew it was normal size, cousin Kyo's room was roughly the same in comparison, but to her, this was more space than she had ever had in her entire existence.
The bed was elaborate, and decorative, beautiful even.
Full sized, low to the ground and topped with a lavender and crisp white comforter and enough pillows to drown in. There was a pastel desk across from the bed, fitted with a purple colored laptop, a little desk-light and an eggshell white computer chair.
Her floor was carpeted, the walls a soothing rose.
A pink beanbag chair sat right below her lilac curtained window and the softest rug her bare toes had ever experience ran from the door to beanbag.
She had a dresser, two actually, a closet that was nearly as big as her attic room, and the greatest shocker, there was a little bathroom inside her bedroom. Shower, tub, sink, toilet, fluffy purple towel and rug, a shower curtain covered in flowers, a real, true bathroom....
In her room.
This was all a bit much for her to process, to accept.
She felt...out of place, like a fraud. This was too much opulence for someone like her.
She wasn't worth all this fuss. She wasn't some princess, someone important or significant, she was a...
Her eyes burned.
She knew what she was.
Palming the hard shell holding her healing arm steady, she swallowed down that familiar ache in her throat. Her cast was coming off later today. Her bruises had faded, her face no longer swollen and puffy. Physically, she didn't hurt anymore, and but for her pretty pink cast, there was very little evidence of her father's final brutal beat down.
Inside was a different story...
Inside her heart, inside her mind, the damage was extensive, she was destroyed in a way very few would ever experienced, torn apart before she had ever been whole.
What had she even escaped from, in the end?
She relived her hellish life when she closed her eyes at night, her best friend anxiety was always at her side, ready and eager to suck her beneath its brutal grip. People scared her, and even when she knew she was safe, it was constant battle not to flinch in close proximity, her muscles locking, her panicked min bracing for violence.
And the sadness, the despair, overwhelming and soul deep, held captive her with more efficiency than chains.
She was beaten.
She was broken.
She was tired.
She was still...scared.
So what had she really escaped from in the end?
What had her rescue resulted in?
She couldn't say...she really didn't know.
A fresh start, her therapist called it...but to start what?
A new lease on life...to do what?
What was she supposed to do in this world where she had no one and nothing? When she couldn't think of a single thing she wanted from this life she'd been cursed with.
Why had she struggled that night?
Why had she run?
Why not let father end the life she didn't know what to do with now that she was free?
What was freedom?
What did that truly mean?
The past still held her, the pain was still present, and even removed from that hellish place she had never called home, Hinata didn't feel free.
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Laters
Sessakag~
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