Red [Naruto Fanfiction] (#FanficFrightday)

Red

He sat there, watching, listening. He sat there thinking, sweating. He sat there imagining, crying, waiting.

He sat there tied up in his straight jacket, leaning against the padded wall. If only they could see, if only they could see that he wasn't all that twisted. It was an accident it really was, he was scared that's all. Everyone gets scared sometimes. Don't they?

Who wouldn't? Especially when they were always watching, judging. Scorning him for protecting...protecting himself. People have the right to protect themselves, don't they? What's so different about him? Nothing right? He was so...

It was pretty, so pretty. He painted pictures on the walls with the pretty red paint, even though it smelled, and tasted a bit foul. The paintings were pretty, paintings of a family. A family holding hands as the paint dripped from them and their feet leaving trails that led to the floor of the alley. The boy used a big fat brush, the handle white and colored red with jointed ridges. He had to extract it though, the occasional ridge getting stuck in the 'holder'. The head of the brush broke a few times so he had to find new ones, but luckily so many paint sets were strewn about. The color of blood...

...scared, no, petrified when they came. All those nameless faces, herding him into a mental and physical corner. The darkness enveloping him as enlightened white eyes and scowling faces surrounded him. He wanted to scream, but nothing would come out. As they started to close in he could only let out strangled sobs, backing away his head swerving left and right looking for an escape. His retreat didn't last long as his back hit a wall raising his head he saw his only escape, a fire escape ladder. As he attempted the four foot jump, hands grabbed him dragging him back down and slamming him against the floor. The force of gravity blackening his vision for a few seconds. His terror....

...was so alluring. Its beauty when spraying across the sky. The liquid being drained from someone else's body was another pretty sight. He never told anyone this, but, he loved art. It is an expression of what he is, who he is. And right now the paint was everywhere and the walls were his canvas. He loved this color,...

...etched on his face as blurry figures surrounded him. Their hazy yells banging against his eardrums. He didn't even realize he was being hit until a fist pounded against his head. He let out an agonizing scream as his head bounced up and fell back down cracking against the concrete floor. His vision left him once again only coming back a few minutes later, but that didn't stop the painful pounding in his head as his brain attempted to recover from crashing against his skull. Tears streamed down his face and all he wanted to do in that moment, like many before, was to die. He wanted to erase his existence from this world, but...

...this deep shade of red. It was such a pretty color to paint with. Nothing mattered anymore, but his art, his creations. He wasn't greedy, he would make do. As the red pictures were carefully drawn with a finger or head the boy could only laugh, it was beautiful. Every painstaking detail drawn in. Every curve of a finger, a tilt of a head, lift of a brow was colored in. He couldn't stop giggling as he continued to draw his little portrait. Red stained his canvas walls, the floors, the bodies, and him most of all. His little fits of laughter could be heard all over the alley. He couldn't stop...

...they wouldn't let him do that. He wasn't allowed to die, and yet, he wasn't allowed to live, only to exist. A painful and tormenting existence. The flurry of punches and kicks suddenly stopped which followed a brief moment of content, until a crash sounded. Bits and pieces of glass fell and got stuck in his disheveled hair and landed on his bruised cheek. He didn't even notice the wet substance trickle from a gash on the side of his head, the blood creating a puddle on the floor. When the second bottle landed he let out a pained howl. It hurt, the pain stinging until he lost consciousness, and from then on...