▶┆Chapter two [2]  

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❝You were my light at the end of a dark and treacherous tunnel.❞  

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  ✿.｡.:* ☆:**:. ѕαкυяα'ѕ ρ.σ.ν .:**:.☆*.:｡.✿  

I NUZZLED MY FACE deeper into my flower-print pillow. My mind was at peace; it was serene―sleep was my solace. When I would close my eyes, I could imagine that just for a second, I was happy. That everything was okay―that I'd be okay.

I knew it was an illusion...just a fantasy, something that was not real. Despite this knowledge, it seemed to soothe me. My brain could be put at peace for a moment. It was times like these that I cherished; it was rare I'd receive such a calm moment of respite.

My dream was sweet and only made me want to snuggle deeper into my quilt. I'd accept unconsciousness with welcoming arms. As long as it meant I never had to wake up again. I was ostensibly being dragged deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.

And that was a good thing. In my dream, everything was blissful―it resembled a fairytale. My dreams were always sweet and pleasant on my worse days. It was as if my mind knew I'd break like a paper doll if I didn't get an interim. It was a constant in my life; it was nice to know I could at least expect a pleasant dream every night. But some days...some days the nightmares would pounce, leaving me breathless and utterly horrified. They'd exploit my weaknesses, and make me helpless and frail. 

Abruptly, my alarm blared in my ear. I grumbled angrily, chucking a pillow at the annoying creation. Whoever had decided to invent such an irritating device deserved all the wrath in the world. It was my wake-up call though―it was time to head to the place I like to consider my own personal brand of hell. 

As I stretched out like a cat, I moved to my feet. As much as I craved to skip classes, my father would ultimately find out. It wasn't like he cared about my education or anything, he just didn't approve of me displaying defiance in any way, shape, or form. He also detested the notion because if I was absent too many days, without a credible excuse, then the truancy police would show up. And we both knew how that would go.

Sometimes I considered doing just that―Letting the police arrest my dad. Maybe I'd finally be free.

But then the cold bitter truth would come crashing down on me. I'd be put in foster care...and I had no desire to be there. No one would even consider adopting me...I'd only be a burden. A teenager only a couple of years from college? Why adopt her when you could get a fresh baby and truly raise them. So...in the end, I decided to wait it out until college. When I could be truly free of the cruel reality in which I live. 

With a sour taste lingering in my mouth, I rose from my rickety old bed and decided to take a shower. I hurriedly rushed through a five-minute shower, having just enough time to wash my hair.

'No wasting water!' My father would berate me constantly. 

I carefully step out of the shower and speedily work at drying my pink locks. I seriously hope that my father's on a business trip or something. I gingerly got dressed in a simple outfit; it consisted of a loose pair of blue jeans, a hoodie that engulfed my form exactly how I liked, and some plain hightop converse. For me, it was all about comfort. Why in gods name would I walk around in tight clothes when it would only press against the cuts marring my body? 

It also mattered because the cuts that criss-crossed along my limbs couldn't be seen. I sacrificed any semblance of love for fashion in order to hide my darkest secret―my dad's secret. No matter how sweaty I was, or how desperately I wanted to fit in, I had to keep wearing long-sleeves and loose clothing.

It was better that way anyway; the scars were disgusting and hideous. They were unlovable.

I ran a brush through my long, cotton candy pink locks. I was aware that pink was an unusual color, but was that my fault? I then stood up, seized my backpack by the straps, and crept down the stairs like a ninja. (haha, ironic XD) I bolted out the door, and out of the house so quickly, that I didn't even acknowledge if my father was home or not.

I trudged wordlessly to school. I was accustomed to the comforting silence that came with no friends. But was it really comforting? I think deep down, I knew the answer.

It could get dark―with just me and my thoughts, suddenly my brain would become muddled and I'd be tempted to do things. Bad things; like giving up entirely. 

Sometimes the thought would flash through my brain like a grenade. Why was I still here? Why hadn't I just ended it all? It would be all too simple―and no one would care. Why did I still have spirit and a fire raging in my eyes? The explanation I perpetually arrived at was that I wanted to live.

There are things I want to do before I die―before I finally leave the wretched world behind. Just because my life sucks, doesn't mean that there isn't anything glorious on Earth. The nice stuff is what I want to experience myself. I aspire to go to college, and I desire to be a doctor. I want to fall in love, and get married. I want to have kids, and travel the world. The only way I can do any of it is if I live.

As I arrive at school, my lip curls back in disgust. Like any typical high school, everyone has their own little groups that they converse with. I'm what I like to call, a lone wolf. I don't abide by the social rules, nor do I specifically belong to any of the groups. 

All my fellow peers are extremely shallow, assuming they're better than everyone, but their respective friends. I proceed with cruising towards the entrance gate when someone harshly shoves me from behind. I utter a small yelp and crumple to my knees.

I leisurely glance up to meet a pair of deep onyx orbs. His stare, familiar and hated, burns right into my soul. It was Duck ass, otherwise known as Sasuke Uchiha. He smirked slightly at me, his mouth barely twitching. He barely ever expressed emotions, but I could see the satisfaction in his eyes.

I scrambled to my feet, glowering the entire time. My knees sting from the impact on the cement, but I harden my expression to not reveal a thing. He just had to spoil my day, even though it hadn't really even started! 

"Hey, pinky," He cooed, his voice as sharp as a razor. It was a mocking tone, and his facial expressions led me to believe he was taunting me. Oh, how I detested that name! I never understood where he found the audacity to mock me like that. I had dealt with this kind of treatment for an extremely long time, but for some reason, I was compelled to fight back. I couldn't describe the feeling―it just felt like something would change today...something good. The more I mulled on these feelings of hurt and anger, the more the water boiled over the edge. All those times he pushed me down when he made me feel unworthy and insecure. I felt an explosion in my chest like a million firecrackers, and couldn't stop the eruption.

"Would you just fuck off??!" I bite at him, not holding back the fire behind my eyes. 

"All you do is bother me, but would you for once take a god damn hint and go fuck yourself Duckass!"

He didn't seem to enjoy being the one insulted. He stepped back slightly in surprise at my outburst, and I watched a million emotions dance across his expression before he schooled his features.

"Don't call me that," He snaps. His voice was like a whip, and I found myself actually getting frazzled. I had never heard Sasuke speak so loudly. 

"How dare you speak to me like that, who do you think you are Haruno?" He clenched his fists, his muscles tensing.

I barely dodged the fist aimed at my head. He was trying to hit me?! Why? Was he crazy?

My thoughts spiraled and I couldn't halt the fist coming. I squeezed my eyes shut, preparing myself for pain. And I knew it'd be agony after last night. The combination of all my injuries would make a gruesome day. And of course, I knew it would hurt! I wouldn't delude myself otherwise! He put a lot of force into that one hit. He was so fired up, his eyes were narrowed into near slits

I have never seen Sasuke so enraged...over someone he considered "insignificant". 

His fist smashes into my nose with a deafening crunch. I don't process the pain right away, but when I do, I swear it takes everything in me not to straight out start cussing. Or bawling like a baby. The blood drips down my chin, the metallic sting seeping over my lips and painting them a  ruby red. I wipe the blood off my mouth, wincing at the burn and the awful taste that lingers on my tongue. 

As if that wasn't enough, he started to prepare to punch me again. He had never gotten this angry at me before, but I know why he was really upset though. It's because I showed defiance―and it had to be crushed, so to speak.

My nose was throbbing, and I frantically held my arms over my bloody face protectively. But the hit never came. Someone stood in front of me, holding Sasuke's raw, battered fist in their hand. I looked up, very bewildered. Someone saved me? Did they not know who I was? I had so many questions plaguing my thoughts. 

There were two other boys as well, and they both stood in front of me. The three of them made a sort of shield. Blocking me off from Sasuke, and effectively saving me. I watched as they told him off―as they stood up for me. I could only gape as they ordered him to get lost. 

Sasuke finally disappeared, grumbling to himself, and the boys turned around to face me. 

And I promised then that I would never forget my saviors' faces. Whether they knew it or not, they had saved me―and from more than just Sasuke.