WHEN LIFE SUBTRACTS, ADD REVENGE

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CHAPTER EIGHT

Funhouse

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The brunette rolled her neck, hair swaying with the moment and wind like a flag caught in the spring wind. She tapped her slim finger against the smoking cancer stick in hand, lost her lament. Whom was she grieving for? None of her friends had passed, nor any pets or family members.

An overwhelming, heart suffocating sadness it was; the dark grief wrapping around her, enveloping her in smoke-like arms of sadness and remorse shades and shades darker than that of which gently gliding for the grey end of her cigarette. These emotions had become unwanted friends, sticking to your side with bitter, taunting, and amused smiles and horrid and mocking peals of laughter.

Was this depression? Emma wondered.

Again, she was not certain.

With lax eyes, she dragged her wistful gaze toward the sky. It had been two weeks since Sasuke's night terror, two stressful weeks of trying to reach out to her best friend. The first week had been complied with unanswered calls and messages with no reply. On the fourth day of the first week, she had received a tidbit of information from Sierra.

From what Sierra had told her, Ketzia and Camryn weren't the judgemental, villains Emma was led to believe. They were simply dragged into Caitlyn's personal ordeals, the young adults themselves not quite knowing why the ginger had developed such a sudden distaste for Emma. By the sixth day of the first week, Ketzia had drifted away from Caitlyn after Emma had subtlely reaching out to her. The said brunette came to the assumption that Ketzia had drawn her own conclusions, choosing not to participate in such drama.

By the turn of the second week, Emma had typed out and sent an apology and explanation on her part as long as the IM character limit on ooVoo would allow. Another message had followed, the anxious tan young women proposing several conclusions about the 'why' behind Caitlyn's departure.

Maybe she had been stressed as well. Emma was sure she had been quite a hassle in the first weeks after the Akatsuki's leaving.

Maybe she just needed a break. Before the Akatsuki's involvement in their lives, ELLA would take healthy breaks after from each other. Each would leave the lighthearted home for a night with some mutual friends or a quick visit with some family members. Once the Akatsuki entered their lives, none of the young women had time for the themselves. Too much of a good thing is bad, as they say.

Maybe she was influenced by someone else's opinion. This was a hazy assumption; would Caitlyn have let someone break a bond so tightly woven?

Maybe they had both overreacted. Tensions were high and tempers short, and in the battle of sharp tongues, could they have overreacted? Emma didn't want to think so. How childish and petty would it be if they had.

Emma had forgiven, but couldn't forget until her best friend had returned to her side. Denver, Mattie, and Caitlyn; their friendship completed Emma. Though her heart was shattered and yearned for the friendship Akatsuki and the love of Itachi, she believed that over time she could move from that chapter in her life if they never returned. However, if she lost Mattie, Caitlyn, or Denver, Emma would be lost. She needed them, because they make her who she is.

Without them, she didn't want to dare think about how different everything would be. The brunette did not linger on this thought, swiftly boarding her next train of thought.

Home is where the heart is; Emma had come to truly believe that. Her heart rested, not in the house of memories behind her, but with the nutty and flawed girls she'd been friends with for so long. Her home was with them.

A smile ebbed at the corners of her lips as she recalled the grace the earlier days had been. She had managed to finally break through to Caitlyn, her long messages and short, meaningful conversations shining light on the rainy battlefield of their fight.

Hope began to burn bright in her stomach, driving away the hissing shadows of depression. She no longer felt the need to wallow in her sorrows and nostalgia. The shadowy arms of lament were pried away as warm, comforting arms of happiness settled loosely around her.

She was beginning to heal.

Emma believed this fight with Caitlyn had reminded her who she was and where her morals lie, as well as her loyalties. This bitter fight had been necessary, or she would have been driven mad by the loss of so many people at once, as well as the returning memories of John. The emotions of her years with her almost lover had hit Emma hard, and the brunette had no reasoning behind the sudden occurance of them until recently.

That's why Faydre had been able to take control of her in her time of emotional weakness.

For now, it seemed as though all her problems were solved in the, what should have been, short trip outside on the front porch for a smoke.

With an optimistic and content smile, she tossed her cigarette on the ground, crushing the smoking and deadly cancer stick. Pulling the almost half empty cigarette box, she tossed them to the ground as well. Kicking them off the porch and to the ground to rot, she paid little mind to the fact that urge to light up one of the cancer sticks would become reoccurring in times of stress (seeing as that had been the only time she smoked). Her day had brightened too greatly to be nagged at by such trivial things.

Besides, if she could live in a house full of criminals for an entire season, survive falling off a bridge, and the emotional trauma of loosing members of her ex-fiance, Emma was pretty sure she could survive the three or four cigarettes short of an addiction.

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"You're doing it again."

Looking away from her now mashed potatoes that were poked, prodded, spread across her plate, and smashed under her fork, Emma's attention settled loosely on Sasuke, her minding still tredding upon her inner musings. Twirling her fork once in the mess of her plate, she set down her fork. Placing her dominant hand in her lap, she pulled her left hand away from her neck, joining her tanned hands.

"Sorry, Sasuke." She murmured, readjusting her position. Her left leg crossed over her right, her elbow hitting the table with a close to inaudible 'thud' as the brunette leaned her chin in her palm. Moments passed and Emma was yet again lost to her thoughts.

"Tell me about him."

With delayed blink, her light blue eyes refocused on the quiet and sleepy world around them. Eyes falling upon the bored teenager across the table, she caught the disappearing shred of exsaperation as mild curiosity replaced the emotion.

'Where to start...' The questioning thought danced across her mind, a moment of silence falling, then breaking as the brunette parted her lips and spoke.

"He has a bad reputation. So many people go off of what they hear about him, and judge him for his past actions, though no one really knew the reasoning behind his past actions. Sure, there's people who 'think' they know why, but they don't. I was lucky enough to know why.

Her eyes, serious as emotionally possible, met Sasuke's. "He did things he's not proud of, but he had no other option. He sacrificed so much, Sasuke, but no one knows. His future, his family, his honor. He barely managed to make it out with a lover.

"He treated me like I was an unbroken and untainted queen. He put me above everyone, expect for one person. That person was the only family member he had that still lived. Though he loves me, his family comes first. He loves that last family more than me, more than anyone, more than his own life. He'd do anything, everything for that person.

"The only thing he'd never do is tell them the truth: the 'why' behind what he did."

Pushing back a strand of bleached white hair, Emma gathered her dishes. Walking around the table to the pale teen, she gathered his empty dishes as well, carefully and methodically placing them on the plate. The brunette turned to the thought ridden boy who watched her with just a fraction of her attention, pushed back his bangs, and placed a kiss on his forehead.

With a smile, she wished him 'goodnight' and gathered their dishes, took her leave.

"What was his family member's relation to him?" The question came softly as she made her way out of the room.

Her step faltering to a halt, with her eyes set straight ahead, Emma answered his question and left the room.

"His brother."

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"I'll probably be back for Squishy in like a month or three." I grinned, hugging my father. He returned the action, scratching his short, grey beard.

"Don't be a stranger." He replied, leaning forward and kissing my head. I frowned, swatting playfully. I pointed my finger at him, dark brown eyebrow arched.

"No." I spoke, grin still present. Moving on, I slouched. "Well, I better get going."

Glancing down the hall way, I shouted for Sasuke and Caitlyn. I had asked Caitlyn earlier to show the quiet teen around the house after he had met my father.

"You know, that Sasuke kid looks kinda like Issac."

"I know."

"Are they-"

"No." I quickly replied as Sasuke and Caitlyn entered the room. Smiling at them, breifly, I looked to my father. "Well, we'll be on our way. Bye, Daddy. Love ya."

"Bye Jeremy!" Caitlyn chimed, waving a stiffly. I pushed open the screen door, holding it open as she walked out.

"Bye Caitlyn." He called after the redhead, who's hair was now a deep burgundy. Brown eyes looking to Sasuke, he held out his hand, arm tattooed from wrist to the bend of his elbow.

Sasuke's eyes flickered to my father's hand, then to me. Placing a hand on my hip, I took a playful jab at the Uchiha, "What? Is pretty boy too scared to shake my Daddy's hand?"

The pale boy glared at me, then sighed and shook my father's hand.

"It was nice meetin' ya, Sasuke." My dad stated, a bit put off by Sasuke's relucantance. The said teenager simply ducked his head, releasing my father's hand and walking past me.

I rolled my eyes, looking to my father and saying, "Don't be offended by him. He's not the most socialable person around."

He scoffed, "Bastard can at least shake somebody's hand."

"Hey!" I protested. "He has trust issues. He's like an abused puppy. Give him a chance."

With that, I sent my father another grin before moving away from the black screen door, letting it shut itself. I made my way up the slanted drive way to the small car that sat at the top of the gravel drive.

Slipping into the front of the car, I cranked the car, turning down the radio as the car started.

"An abused puppy?" Sasuke questioned, a bit amused, a bit offended.

I rolled my eyes, glancing at the blackette who sat in the back seat. "It's the truth and don't you deny it." He huffed, eyes moving to the window.

I backed out of the drive way, heading down the gravel road.

Caitlyn's cat-like eyes briefly flickered to the rearview mirror before shooting me a pervy look. The redhead had developed hots for the Uchiha (I probably would have to had I not been in a relationship with his older brother), and was using her flirting powers full blast on the teen whenever she could.

"He's never going to date you. He's gay for his best friend, Caitlyn."

Her eyes widened, slowly turned her head to look at me. Subtly glaring with a stiff smile, "Emma..." She hissed.

I snickered, "Well, it's kinda obvious you've got the hots for Mr. Gay Boy back there."

"No. I don't." She protested.

"Sure, you don't." I replied, sarcastically. "And Gay Boy's straight."

"I'm not gay, damnit."

"Sasuke, we all know you're in love with Naruto. You don't have to deny it. We accept the fact you're gay."

"I am not homosexual, for Naruto of all people."

"Then you better well be in love with Hinata."

"I've barely even talked to Hyuuga."

"Mei?"

"Who?"

"Wait, you don't know who that is. Karin?"

"..."

"You don't know who that is, yet, either, do you?"

"Well, damnit, you better not be in love with Sakura. I do not ship you two."

"No." He sighed, exsaperated. "I'm not in love with anyone."

"Are you in love with Caitlyn?"

"You're more annoying than Naruto."

"I guess you and Caitlyn make a cute couple. Though I don't think y'all would be a very happy couple." I mused aloud as drove. "Are you're not in love with Naruto?"

"..."

"Be that way."

"..."

"Hey, Caitlyn."

"..."

"Really?"

"..."

"Fine, I won't attend y'all's wedding; be that way."

"Oh my gosh, I don't like him!"

"And Sasuke don't like his best friend."

"Damnit, I'm not gay."

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"Yo, Caitlyn!" I called from the kitchen, glancing into the pot full of vegatable oil. It had been in the said crimson for a suffice twenty-two minutes, heating up for the frozen fries I was about to carefully pour inside the pot. A single golden french sat on the counter; the crispy fried food had been my little eatable test dummy, frying to a pretty, golden perfect in the oil in a decent amount of time.

"Yes?" She replied stepping into kitchen doorway as I nodded in satisfaction. Moving my light blue eyes to the burgundy haired beauty, I answered.

"I need you to run up to the store real quick and buy some butter." Reaching into my back pokect, I flipped through a couple ones, pulling a five from the small group of money. Tucking the dollars back into my tiny jean pocket, I held out the five to the redhead.

Pouting, she replied. "Why do I have to? Why can't Sasuke?"

I snickered as she took the money, "He can't drive. Plus he's training out back in the forest; I wouldn't want to disturb him while he's beginning all ninja."

"Why do we even need butter?" She muttered with a sigh as she walked out of the room.

"For the baked potatoes!" I yelled in response.

'Thump'

'Click'

I peered out the window, watching Caitlyn slip into the Bug. I returned the curtain to its spot once she disappeared out of the long drive way.

Focusing back to the pot of oil on the stove, I reached out to turn the temperature for the stovetop. My hand slid through the knob, the lack of contact with anything solid causing me to topple forward. I didn't have time yell or grab for support, tensing in expectation for boiling oil to into contact with my skin.

I hit the ground, no pain registering into my mind. I peeled open my eyes, confused by my surroundings. I could hazily make out the side of the kitchen isle. Looking to the side, I noticed an aluminum wrapped baked potato I had recently put in the oven.

What?

"How did the baked potato get out of the oven?"

I blinked.

Oven.

Oven.

Oven.

Oven.

I screamed, realizing I was inside my oven. I scrambled backward, vision turning black then brightening again. I stared at the side of my house, the white paint glaring at me.

"Wh-"

An almost eye-blinding light began to form around me. I went to cover my eyes from the shocking and blinding light, but no movement occured. I was frozen, forced to witness the white paint of the house of memories become blocked by the light that enveloped my body.

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Inside the house of memories, minutes and minutes passed. The pot of oil that sat, heated, on the stove become to spark with fire, licks of bright crimson stretching upward from the used pot. Reaching out, it waved, licking the fabric of the nearby curtain. Merely gently burning the red fabric, the flame reaching out again, lighting the curtain afire.

The flames of the pot of oil and the quickly deterating curtain reached higher and higher, brushing the ceiling and cabinents bottoms. Minutes passed again and the fire attached itself to the ceiling and cabinents, continuing on its destruction.

The hellish and crimson fire grew faster and faster, burning things quicker and quicker as its flames grew stronger against the weak with age house.

It was a nightmare in its truest form. The hellborn fire laughingly consumed the memories bound to the walls and floor, to the pictures and items littered about the house. Memory by memory, they were destroyed without regret, traces of any human connection to the house was now ash.

Memories of the construction workers who first built the house, their blood, sweat, tears, and pride were now ashes.

Memories of the first residents within the house, their untold story that was bound deepest in the walls of the house were now ashes.

Memories of the next residents in the form of pictures hung neatly upon the wall, childhood memories from one of the current residents, were now ashes.

Fresh and bright memories of the romance and despair that were as lovely as the collecting dust upon the high chandaler were now ashes.

Memories of the choatic family that had been thrown together, but brought together in unexpected bonds were now ashes.

The now weak licks of fire disappeared, lost in the charred chunks and black ashes of the house that previously stood.

The house of memories stood no more.

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"I dance around this empty house. Tear us down, throw you out; screaming down the halls, spinning all around and now we fall. Pictures framing up the past, your taunting smirk behind the glass. This museum full of ash, once a tickle, now a rash. This used to be a funhouse, but now it's full of evil clowns. It's time to start the countdown. I'm gonna burn it down, down, down. 9, 8, 7, 6 5 4, 3, 2, 1, fun. Echoes knocking on locked doors; all the laughter from before. I'd rather live out on the street than in this haunted memory. I've called the movers, called the maids. We'll try to exorcise this place. Drag my mattress to the yard. Crumble, tumble, house of cards. Oh, I'm crawling through the doggy door; my key don't fit my lock no more. I'll change the drapes. I'll break the plates. I'll find a new place. Burn this fucker down."

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PART 1 - END