Adult-FanFiction.org : Naruto

ⲃⳙⲧⲧⲉⲅ⳨ⳑⲩ	By : Sessakag Category: Naruto > Het - Male/Female > Naruto/Hinata Views: 2344 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, just the story I write

Chapter List
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- 2
Chapter One
Hell

November 15, 2005
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A harsh breeze whipped through the night, shaking skinny trees made nearly bare by incoming winter, rustling fallen leaves colored as vivid as a sunset. She braced her trembling body, drawing scraped knees tighter to her little chest, a shudder passing through her form as she huddled closer to the towering tree in the backyard.
Maybe the wind was mad at her too.
It howled and roared like a lion, flaying her skin with its chilling bite.
A second violent gust made hair dance and her teeth chatter. Several miserable minutes passed, time in which she worried if she would ever be able to feel her fingers and toes again, before the turbulent weather calmed. She poked her head from her safety huddle, sweeping her surroundings compulsively rather than curiously.
Shadows cast by the pale moon writhed, seemingly reaching out towards, for 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. She would rather be safe in her spooky scenery than step foot inside that house, surrounded by the unknown instead of the certainty of the monster that lived inside.
Anything was better than the place she called home.
Hot liquid trickled from her nose. She wiped the copper scented crimson from it, tears welling in the single eye that wasn't swollen shut.
Her face hurt.
Her body hurt.
Her heart hurt.
She just...didn't understand.
Her five year old mind couldn't reason it out; what had set off father, what had drawn his his anger, what had she done to deserve to have his hard, unforgiving fists beat and batter her tiny little face. She asked herself this over and over again, day after day, year after year.
What was she doing wrong?
Time and time again, no matter what she did, no matter how good of a girl she was, how useful she made herself, it never seemed to make him happy.
Nothing she did had ever pleased him.
The dishes were never clean enough.
The house never organized properly.
Her voice was too loud though she rarely spoke.
She was always in the way though she tried her hardest never to leave the attic.
If she could disappear for him she would, ff she could cease to be, she'd do it...maybe then he would be happy because she didn't know what else to do.
She didn't know how to change those eyes that said 'I despise you.'
Or the fists that bellowed 'I hate you'.
She swiped another tear, sucking back a whimper, but unable to stop the wince as her face protested painfully.
Maybe there really wasn't anything she could do.
Father wasn't the only one who hated her, her whole family did, they hurt her feelings, they hurt her body, they made fun of her stutter and glared at her like she were one of the rats in the basement; no one 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 was upset. No one cared if she slept in her cot in the attic or in the dirt outside.
She truly was...nothing.
Her existence meant nothing.
In this cruel world in which she lived, she was worthless.
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November 18, 2005
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Father was gone again and had been for three days now.
She was grateful for these lonely days and silent nights, the were really hard days. Caring for oneself as a tiny injured child was a challenge but she relish this forced independence, this break from pain. Given the choice of struggling to feed herself or risking another beating on top of her unhealed wounds just for the meager meal father gave her once a day and it really wasn't really a hard choice to make. Walking gingerly to the fridge, careful not to jar her throbbing arm, she held it close to her body like a wounded dove, then pulled the door open.
A bounty unfurled and unbidden her stomach growled.
Packed to the brim with every food a starving kid could want, and as much as she wanted to gorge on the juicy fruit, succulent meat and savory deserts, she knew better.
She...wasn't allowed to touch this food.
None of it...
Holding back tears, struggling against the hunger pains, she reached for the three fridge burned nuggets on the plastic plate on the bottom shelf, 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 agony it brought her swollen face.
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December 27, 2005
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She lay motionless in the two small puddles father had left her in.
One bloody, the other yellow, the latter responsible for her current misery.
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 was the quickest way to anger father...but she couldn't help it. She was scared...she was always scare, but this wasn't the usual angry. 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, terror had held her in its unmerciful grip. Watching his hands with wide eyes, she had silently prayed he wasn't going to use them on her. When he waved his arms, when he gestured the way he had, she knew it could come at any time. He never announced his abuse. There were times he'd start raining blows mid-sentence.
While he roared and hurled horrible words at her little face, her body had been busy bracing for pain, and beneath the strain, amongst the fear in her chest her tiny bladder had given out before she even realized she needed to go.
Right before her father, she wet the tile floor and that's when it started...
The door slammed, startling her, ripping her abruptly from her awful memory.
He was gone now.
Beneath her, liquid warmth. She was supposed to clean this up...but...
She couldn't move.
It 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 was to clean. And if she didn't clean it up, she'd get worse when he got home. It was torture, 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 familiar feeling she knew all too well.
She'd bitten it again.
There was a particular way she held her mouth when he punched her in the face, it usually helped her avoid bitting her tongue.
She had forgotten to do it this time.
She listed, then collapsed against the kitchen cabinet. A whimper left her throat and though she'd heard the front door, her panicked eyes glued themselves to the kitchen archway, terrified father had heard her.
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 gnawing hunger for days on end...
Red rimmed eyes but no tears put her in the dark bowels below the house...
And if she didn't clean the floor, she'd receive all three.
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February 7th, 2006
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She was cold.
She was hungry.
But she couldn't go home. Father had been drinking that bitter drink again and she knew what would happen if she was in the house. Many days had passed since the last time he'd struck her, and she wanted nothing more to avoid the pain for a little while longer.
She walked the dirt path quietly, 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 with as little noise as possible, she escaped out the back door, crawled through the little gap in the fence and taken off for the solace and safety the woods behind their house provided.
She chaffed her thin arms, teeth chattering as she walked.
She would go home tomorrow, when it was safe.
Laughter trilled through the air, something she rarely ever heard.
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 short 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 merriment echoing in the hushed forest. Her red rimmed eyes soaked up his joyful form, transfixed 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 orbs to her, his intense stare rooting her in place. Her pulse raced, heart pounding so hard she felt like she might pass out. Standing before her seconds later, the child took in her disheveled 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 orbs inquisitive and a tad apprehensive.
"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 the emphasis of a fist 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 Ko and cousin Ko 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. 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, 2018
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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 lying and topped with a lavender and crisp white comforter and enough pillows to drown in. There was pastel desk across from the bed, fitted with a purple colored laptop, attached light and 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 covering 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, she felt like a fraud.
She wasn't worth all this fuss, this was too much opulence for someone like her. 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, 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 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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