It was brought to my attention that Gaara can't touch his scar when he's in a straight jacket...
And that Tsunade doesn't have a Latin ending on her name...
I fixed it!
:D
He was bored.
And hot.
So he was bored and hot.
This is what Gaara decided as he sat in his white, undecorated room. He sighed. Maybe if they took this goddamned straight jacket off it wouldn't be so hot. Fuckers. He wasn't even insane. When he had been moved to his new "Happy Room" (as the caretakers psychotically called it), he had passed the time by counting the padded squares on the wall. He knew now that the room was 15x15x15 with a small window on the wall. The window was pathetic.
But now, he was bored out of his mind. He had already counted his own teeth (exactly 34), counted the freckles on his feet (there weren't very many- only three), tried to count how many red hairs he had on his head (key word: tried), and attempted to beat box for 15 minutes. He was out of things to do. And he was hot. He looked up to the SC (his ultra-cool-secret-code-name for Security Camera. Hey, he was bored, what else could he do for entertainment?)and glared. Dumbasses. Weren't they supposed to be monitoring him and the conditions of his room and shit like that? Apparently, they were on a coffee break. A two-hour coffee break. Fuckers.
Ugh.
He supposed he should be used to it now. He had been here since he was six and a half. Fuck yes he had been crazy, but for fucks sake! He wasn't like that anymore! What kind of family subjects their youngest son to this? Well, he knew why, but come on! Can you blame him? His mother died in childbirth and his father had blamed it on him. Gaara was born on Christmas morning. On Gaara's third birthday his father started to abuse him. His siblings- yes the maniacal Gaara had something as common as siblings- didn't do anything to stop their father. They were too scared of daddy dearest to do anything. After a few years of his fathers "care", Gaara had become a deranged little child. His scar could prove that.
He pondered about his angry red scar on his forehead. When he was about five years old, he had found a beautiful ornamental knife and ran to the bathroom. He sat in the sink facing the mirror, crying, wondering why nobody loved him. Then he got a sick and twisted idea. He had figured maybe they just forgot to love him, maybe if they were just reminded every time they saw him, they would love him. So he took his little treasure and carved the symbol for love on his forehead, making sure he was carving it in reverse in the mirror. He smiled faintly at his reflection, and touched the mirror, smearing blood on it in tiny little handprints. It was Christmas Eve.
At about the age of six, he was a quiet, sad, broken individual. He never talked, and he was usually hiding from his father. He never slept, because whenever he did he woke up bloody and scarred. He suspected his father. He had heavy black sleep-rings around his eyes by then. One day he had accidentally walked in on the family having breakfast. He wasn't supposed to do that, it made daddy sad to be reminded of mommy so early in the morning. His dad was already drinking. Before he could blink, his dad was on him, hitting him and screaming at him. Gaara scrambled away and yanked open the silverware drawer and grabbed the first sharp implement he could find. His father had already caught up to him. All Gaara did was turn around and stab him directly into his heart. It was Valentines Day.
His siblings, whom he now did not know the names of, locked him in a hall closet, fearing he would kill them as well. At that time they were eight years old (his sister) and a ten years old (his brother). They had also covered the bleeding corpse of their father in a black sheet, then promptly hid for two days. After the two days passed, a knock at the door was heard. His brother, trying to be brave, answered it, leaving his sister cowering under the bed. It turns out that his neighbor's had called the cops on their house because of the dead silence and the phone was being answered by crying children, then they were hung up on.
The second the police saw the slowly decaying body they were all taken into interrogation. Even Gaara. When his siblings were interrogated, all they had done was cry, but they got a disturbing answer from the youngest child there.
Flashback.
"Please, stay calm. What I am about to ask you may be upsetting, but please tell us the answer." The female cop said softly to the silent boy in the chair.
"What happened to your father and mother?"
"I killed them." Gaara said shortly, picking at his teddy bear.
"W-why?" The policewoman asked, taking a small step away from the disturbed child.
"I didn't mean to kill my Mommy. I didn't even know Mommy yet when I murdered Mommy. Mommy had time to give me my name before I killed Mommy. Daddy… I hate Daddy." Gaara explained, while playing with a small toy bear he had taken with him when he was found by the police.
"And… and why do you h-hate him?" The woman asked, trying to regain her composure in front of a six-year-old murderer.
"Daddy made me scared. Daddy made me cry. Daddy didn't do that to brother or sister. No, Daddy loved them. But not me. Daddy wouldn't remember to love me, even after I had given Daddy a reminder," At this, Gaara pointed to his forehead, which was congealed with crusty blood, "Daddy never loved me."
"I have one more question." The woman said, desperately wanting to leave, "Did he ever… hit you?"
"Yes. I think Daddy liked to do that, because Daddy did it a lot."
End flashback.
About two days later, he was sent to Kohona Mental Institution for the Severely Ill.
Gaara sighed.
Alright. He admits he was a disturbed little child. But he was over that! He would go insane again if they kept him in this stupid sanitarium for any longer. And he would like to inquire why the fuck was he supposed to wear a straight jacket!? He wasn't going to go flippin' nuts and kill himself on the padded walls. Gah.
He went back to counting things.
The stitches in the padding, to be specific.
He was at 204 stitches when a tall man with messy black hair, warm eyes, white coat, and a small bandage covering the bridge of his nose stepped into his little hellhole.
"Gaara." He said softly, as if he would scare Gaara, "can you please walk with me to go see Dr. Tsunade?"
"Sir," Gaara replied in a mockingly sweet voice, "can you please turn the mother fucking AC on?"
The black-haired man was taken slightly aback. Wasn't this kid supposed to not talk and be all sad and depressed? Apparently, the rumors he heard about Gaara in the nurse's lounge were slightly off.
"I suppose it is warm in here, I'll see what I can do. Now please come with me."
Gaara fell silent and stood up from his cross-legged position on the floor, his gracefulness in a straight jacket worthy of a geisha's praise. They stopped in front of a bright yellow door with a small plaque attached to it.
"Dr. Tsunade is in there, please go in." he said, opening the door.
"Dr. Tsunade is written on the door. I'm insane, not retarded." Gaara bit out and walked through the door.
Inside was complete and utter chaos. Dr. Tsunade insisted on not having a desk, for unexplained reasons, so her papers and laptop were strewn across the floor (not that she actually worked, but whatever). On one side of her little floor "desk" was a very large, very comfy pile of multi-colored pillows (for patients) and a few pillows on "her side" for her to sit on. She was fuckin' nuts. She was a gambler and a drinker, and an excellent doctor, so she got away with many things, and she had extremely large boobs (which got 95 of the male nurses in trouble most of the time). Gaara sat on the massive pile of pillows opposite to Tsundae, who currently was typing away on her computer and playing with one blonde pigtail. She was probably playing World of Warcraft.
"Hello Red! How do you feel about going to school?" She said looking up at him, stopping her typing.
"Why?"
"I was thinking of sending your dumbass to school; with escorts of course."
"Why?"
"You need human interaction! Your 16! You need something to do! You've gotten much better than when you first came, and you and I both know that the only reason you wear that straight jacket is because it soothes the other patients- you scare the shit out of them! Sure, you're still a bit aggressive and defensive, but a small sedative can fix that! That's way better than you used to be! I thought you would have gathered that your progress was immense by your new room." Tsunade explained, irritated.
"My new room is a sanitarium." Gaara stated bluntly.
"What? Ugh. Stupid nurses. I said room 13 level two, not level three. And they wonder why I always run away from work. Okay, after this talk we'll get you moved into your new room! You must be excited. It's a level two room you can go to the library, cafeteria, and entertainment room."
"Joy." Gaara said, being the ever-sarcastic teenager he was, glaring at her full force.
"Alright Brat, just because your thong is uncomfortable doesn't mean you can take it out on me," Tsundae said, making Gaara glare even harder at her, "Now. Here's the run-down on the school you will be going to: It's called Kohona High. It's a small school, about 500 kids instead of the normal 700 or 1000. Your classes are mostly Advanced Placement-."
"Why?" Gaara interrupted.
"Because Gaara, most 16 year-olds don't think college-level trigonometry and calculus are easy. Most find Algebra difficult." Tsunade explained, slightly pissed at being interrupted.
"Why am I going to school if I don't need an education?" Gaara asked in an extremely annoyed fashion.
"You're socially inept. That's why." Tsundae snapped. Gaara's shoulders sagged under his little white jacket. Tsundae continued, "As I was saying… Your classes will be AP Math, AP Chemistry, AP History, AP Art, AP Poetry, AP English, Non-smart Japanese and Non-smart P.E. (that stands for Physical Education). Excited much?"
"I hate exercise." Gaara said pointedly.
"It's required. A besides, a little exercise will be good for your skinny ass." Tsundae teased.
"I thought I was a dumbass."
"You're both." Tsunade concluded.