Indebted (Naruto/Akatsuki Fanfic)

Chapter Eight- If It Works

Hey, Hi, Hello.

Welcome to chapter eight of Indebted. Please enjoy it. No song for this chapter, sorry!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Naruto.
WARNINGS: Cussing. Amaya's temper and a rant at the beginning, plus the start of something awkward xD

Anything in bold is important or with emphasis.  
If in mid-sentence or speech, italics are something with emphasis.  
This is what Amaya's thoughts look like.  
'This is what song lyrics look like.'

--

   I feel a sort of quiet heartbreak soaking into my bones, the kind that's not caused by anything you had any control over and the kind that just won't fucking disappear no matter what you do, from crying until your eyes dry up and eating your own body's weight in chocolate to downing alcohol until you're so unbalanced and uneven on your feet that you don't have a snowball's chance in hell of getting back to your home, safe and sound, without the help of someone much more reliable than you will ever be, no matter how desperately you try to meet the expectations placed upon you by those who are much better at life than you are and can ever hope to be.

   So why was I still crying, when there was absolutely nothing I could do to fix it or make it go away? Either way, it didn't matter. I was still curled up in the floor of my shower, crying helplessly. Nothing seemed like it would be okay ever again, no matter what I did. And did I really want to be okay? I didn't honestly deserve that. I was the cause of it, control or not, and I knew it. It was my hand that was holding the kunai, mine that stabbed Nao in the stomach. My fault. My fault, my guilt, my heartbreak.

   The water has long since run cold, and I wonder how long I had been in here, and if it really mattered. I couldn't begin to imagine why it would, but I still pull myself up. My limbs feel too heavy, like they weighed double what they should. My head, in contrast, feels lightweight. I turn the stream of water off and step out onto the tile floor. It's moist and lukewarm beneath my feet. I grab my towel from where it was hanging and begin massaging my scalp with it an effort to dry my hair. As I'm doing so I stand in front of the mirror, just looking at myself. The angry scars from the stab wounds I sustained in the fight with Hidan stand out. My hands fall limp, and the hand that wasn't holding the towel automatically travels down and traces each one, thin fingers trailing lightly over the still sensitive injuries. I stare at myself in the mirror for a while longer.

   It was time for me to get out of the bathroom. I get dressed mechanically, still questioning myself. I cannot seem to place a motivation to my actions. I was just some talentless little brat who hadn't even grown up yet. Not like I was worth much, right? Right. Not much.

  I climb down the stairs and walk into the kitchen. Hidan, Kakuzu, Deidara, Kisame, Itachi and Zetsu are all in there. I don't make any sort of effort to talk to any of them. I just grab a bowl and a packet of ramen. I make it successfully and I'm about halfway through eating it before someone, either not detecting the foul mood I'm in or just not caring, decides to fuck with me. This happens to be Hidan.

   "Hey, little bitch! You're being too fuckin' quiet! Why?" He demands. I ignore him, not a single muscle even twitching at his words. This pisses him off. "Little bitch, I'm talkin' to you!" Once more, I'm silent. "Is it 'cause you stabbed your dumb little fuckin' friend-"

   "Just shut up, Hidan," I mutter. "Really. Shut up."

   "Oh," he says, glowing with pride. "Have I hit a sensitive spot, little bitch? The little retard-"

   The bowl I was eating my ramen from nails him right in the face, shattering upon impact. Little red cuts appear all over his face. I've stood up from my chair, seething angry. "You," I hiss, "better not say one more Kami-damned word about him. You don't know anything about him, you don't even know his name. You don't deserve to. Shut your fucking mouth about him!"