Chibi-Gaara: Zozma does not own Naruto, Sasuke, Gaara, or really much of anything.
Me: That is not true! I have a penny, an-and some lint, and this bottlecap! SEE!
Chibi-Gaara: Well, okay. Zozma owne a penny, some lint, and... -examines the bottle cap- A cap from a bottle of Green River. But she does not own the Naruto characters.
I warn you now that this is rated M for slash, yaoi, lemon, blood, self-harm, and other dark elements. If you're not looking for that, then go away! This is also an AU high school fic, and the characters will be slightly OOC. Like me! I don't have the urge to kill as much anymore...
Gaara looked down at the knife he was holding against his arm, then closed his eyes, listening to his father shout at Temari. It was always either him, or his sister who beared the full brunt of his father's drunken rage. It was no secret that their father drank. Everybody knew it, and they also knew how he beat his children. They let it go on, though. They didn't care if one of them wound up dead. They didn't care if the entire family was murdered. It would just be so much easier for them, then.
Everyone hated and feared Gaara. They didn't hide it. Anybody connected to the redheaded demon was hated as well. That was no secret either. They sneered, they glared, they whispered behind Gaara's back. Sometimes they didn't even bother whispering. But that was okay. Gaara was used to it. They didn't try to hurt him because they knew he would hurt them back, and hurt them a lot worse. Naruto sometimes turned up with a few scratches, but he was a strong boy, and Gaara didn't have to take care of his assailants.
Naruto… the blonde boy was Gaara's only true friend. He was energetic, he was friendly, and he was open – Gaara's complete opposite. The redhead sighed, wondering what Naruto was going to say when he saw the cuts on his arm. His grip on the knife loosened. Was it really worth it…?
"AND ANOTHER THING, YOU WORTHLESS SLUT! IF I EVER CATCH YOU WITH SHIKAMARU AGAIN YOU ARE DEAD!" Gaara voiced a small whimper, hearing his father threaten his sister. He pressed the knife harder onto his arm, his grip tightening once more.
"Yes, father," Temari said. The sheer amount of helpless loathing in her voice made Gaara feel like crying. He dragged the knife down his arm, neatly parting the skin. Pain blistered into his mind, a brilliant white line sizzling across the inside of his eyelids. He gasped, then let out his breath slowly. It felt so good to bleed…
He lay down on his bed, the light inside his room dim enough. He switched hands, wincing and hissing a little at the pain in his wounded arm. He quickly drew another harsh cut across his other arm, then dropped the knife off of the edge of the bed. He squoze his eyes shut tightly, the pain burning in his arms. Gaara moaned quietly, drawing the wounded limbs up to his chest and pressing them against the black shirt he was wearing. He moaned again when he heard Temari tromp up the stairs to their room. He quickly pulled his blanket up to his neck, turning away and curling up. He couldn't let his sister see him like this.
"Gaara?" she asked quietly as she opened the door, light from the hallway falling across the floor and her bed in a thin strip. "Are you sleeping?"
Gaara kept silent, not even shifting. He felt guilty for the cuts on his arms, and also for the sleeping pills he was supposed to take but didn't. He was afraid to go to sleep. He always had horrific nightmares about a giant monster, killing people. He dimly associated those horrific dreams with the voice he heard inside his mind sometimes. That voice was so cold, so cruel, so… monstrous. He had woke up from his nightmares one time and then had just known that the voice in his head, the cold evil voice he called Shukaku, was the monster in his dreams. He hated that voice for the things it said, and for the things it wanted to do to his only friend, Naruto.
"Gaara, I'm sorry," Temari said, sitting on the edge of the bed and stroking the boy's longish, blood red hair. "I'm sorry Dad hates us so much. I just want you to know that I still love you." Hearing her say that made his heart break a little more. He regretted the wounds on his arms even more, wishing he didn't hurt himself like that so much. The edges of his vision grew dark, and he dimly realized he was still bleeding. That's going to have to stop soon, he thought vaguely, or I'm going to… He was unable to complete that thought, passing out as Temari gently stroked his hair.