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Trauma. [Flashback/Private] Wed Dec 25, 2013 10:00 pm
Misoka
D-rank
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Two weeks after her death. Fourteen days. Or had it already been fifteen days?
...Whatever.
Time didn’t matter anymore.
Misoka kept staring at the ceiling, arms at her sides, bed sheets against her back. She blinked, once or twice. Her eyes were dry. Finally.
An absurd thought occurred to her: If she continued to stay in this position, simply holding out – no drinking, no eating, no talking... if she decided to deliberately cause herself such pain, would this propitiate the ruler of life? Would it be enough to persuade Him to return her mother?
Well-known memories threatened to haunt her yet again, and as though she protected herself instinctively, her mind went blank.
When she got out of bed, she felt dizzy from lying on it for so long.
This house was stained with deafening silence. Carefully, Misoka walked downstairs, watching every step she took as not to stumble. The kitchen was empty.
She found her father sprawled out on the sofa in the living room, eyes closed.
“Dad?” she asked.
No answer.
It seemed hard to tell whether he was sleeping or in his usual state, one she had started to just call ‘paralyzed’. Somehow, Misoka feared the latter was true at that moment.
“Dad?” she tried again, this time louder. Her father didn’t show any reaction.
For a few more moments, she did nothing but stand there and look at him, almost becoming caught up in her own world as well. Then she turned around, went to get a small sheet of paper and scribbled down the words her father wouldn’t hear.
And suddenly, Misoka felt the urge to leave as soon as possible.
She needed to get fresh air. Escape this bitter atmosphere of guilt. Of sorrow. Of desperation.
In her haste, she accidentally slammed the entry door.
The noise made her flinch.
Training Ninjutsu S->SS 427/9000
Hollow. Numb. Frozen.
Dead.
I want to tell myself that I’ll be fine.
I want to make myself believe that none of this happened.
The truth is the fiend. Wherever I go, it will follow.
So I need to run away.
Fast. Faster than my pursuer.
But I cannot feel my limbs. I am not able to run.
The thoughts creep through my head, through my wide-eyed gaze, until they begin to take shape in my mind.
Whispering.
How could this happen? How come the world is still turning?
I don’t know. I don’t know how to go on.
I don’t know anything about this life.
Dead.
I want to tell myself that I’ll be fine.
I want to make myself believe that none of this happened.
The truth is the fiend. Wherever I go, it will follow.
So I need to run away.
Fast. Faster than my pursuer.
But I cannot feel my limbs. I am not able to run.
The thoughts creep through my head, through my wide-eyed gaze, until they begin to take shape in my mind.
Whispering.
How could this happen? How come the world is still turning?
I don’t know. I don’t know how to go on.
I don’t know anything about this life.
Two weeks after her death. Fourteen days. Or had it already been fifteen days?
...Whatever.
Time didn’t matter anymore.
Misoka kept staring at the ceiling, arms at her sides, bed sheets against her back. She blinked, once or twice. Her eyes were dry. Finally.
An absurd thought occurred to her: If she continued to stay in this position, simply holding out – no drinking, no eating, no talking... if she decided to deliberately cause herself such pain, would this propitiate the ruler of life? Would it be enough to persuade Him to return her mother?
Well-known memories threatened to haunt her yet again, and as though she protected herself instinctively, her mind went blank.
When she got out of bed, she felt dizzy from lying on it for so long.
This house was stained with deafening silence. Carefully, Misoka walked downstairs, watching every step she took as not to stumble. The kitchen was empty.
She found her father sprawled out on the sofa in the living room, eyes closed.
“Dad?” she asked.
No answer.
It seemed hard to tell whether he was sleeping or in his usual state, one she had started to just call ‘paralyzed’. Somehow, Misoka feared the latter was true at that moment.
“Dad?” she tried again, this time louder. Her father didn’t show any reaction.
For a few more moments, she did nothing but stand there and look at him, almost becoming caught up in her own world as well. Then she turned around, went to get a small sheet of paper and scribbled down the words her father wouldn’t hear.
I’m going out for a bit.
And suddenly, Misoka felt the urge to leave as soon as possible.
She needed to get fresh air. Escape this bitter atmosphere of guilt. Of sorrow. Of desperation.
In her haste, she accidentally slammed the entry door.
The noise made her flinch.
Training Ninjutsu S->SS 427/9000
Last edited by Misoka on Wed Jan 15, 2014 8:07 pm; edited 1 time in total
Hokage: 
Kazekage: 
Raikage: 
Tsuchikage: 
Mizukage: 