Good morning, Hell.
This is probably the fifth time in the past hour that I've woken up.
And the fifth fucking time I wish I didn't.
Or is it the tenth...?
Fuck if I know.
All I have is this in my head and for the rest of my body, I've already tried moving it.
And what do you know?
My fingers are broken. Fingernails ripped off, as far as I can tell from that raw pain when I try to move my fingers. I tried to raise my head to look at the rest of my body.
Bad idea.
As a jolt of pain shot through my spinal cord I could've felt at least three or four broken ribs, shattered right shoulder, both legs immobile and from the raw sensation of searing pain in my head, I possibly lost what little knowledge I had of reality at the moment.
On the brink of Hell, probably.
As for the internal damage, I don't even want to know.
But I do know.
Oh, I know all the fucked up explanations I have for this shit.
Blood being sprayed everywhere in that room, acidic sweat drenching fresh bleeding wounds, metallic-tasting liquid pouring from a jaw-clenched mouth to prevent screaming even more, to stop any pleas, any screams to pass, from breaking a shinobi's mortal and ever brittle pride.
Baki-sensei would have probably told me that it was for my country, for my brother, for the greater good. For my honor.
For Gaara. For Temari.
Half of my mind is telling me that it's bull. The other half...
Fuck the other half.
All I know is that I didn't tell. Neither did Temari.
The first thing I remember about all of this actually was seeing her in front of me, staring at me with tear-filled eyes hard with pain, with hatred.
I could probably figure out at who.
I could probably figure out at what.
Ah, shit..
Now I know why I'm breathing so quickly and painfully.
A punctured lung.
Yeah, there's your fucking shinobi's honor.
And the fifth fucking time I wish I didn't.
Or is it the tenth...?
Fuck if I know.
All I have is this in my head and for the rest of my body, I've already tried moving it.
And what do you know?
My fingers are broken. Fingernails ripped off, as far as I can tell from that raw pain when I try to move my fingers. I tried to raise my head to look at the rest of my body.
Bad idea.
As a jolt of pain shot through my spinal cord I could've felt at least three or four broken ribs, shattered right shoulder, both legs immobile and from the raw sensation of searing pain in my head, I possibly lost what little knowledge I had of reality at the moment.
On the brink of Hell, probably.
As for the internal damage, I don't even want to know.
But I do know.
Oh, I know all the fucked up explanations I have for this shit.
Blood being sprayed everywhere in that room, acidic sweat drenching fresh bleeding wounds, metallic-tasting liquid pouring from a jaw-clenched mouth to prevent screaming even more, to stop any pleas, any screams to pass, from breaking a shinobi's mortal and ever brittle pride.
Baki-sensei would have probably told me that it was for my country, for my brother, for the greater good. For my honor.
For Gaara. For Temari.
Half of my mind is telling me that it's bull. The other half...
Fuck the other half.
All I know is that I didn't tell. Neither did Temari.
The first thing I remember about all of this actually was seeing her in front of me, staring at me with tear-filled eyes hard with pain, with hatred.
I could probably figure out at who.
I could probably figure out at what.
Ah, shit..
Now I know why I'm breathing so quickly and painfully.
A punctured lung.
Yeah, there's your fucking shinobi's honor.