Warning!: Some lemon and a little bit of violence in this chapter!
Standard Disclaiming Properties Apply.

"Wake up baby…"

No sound, her breathing deep and peaceful. She was still alive.

"…It would be such a shame for you to sleep forever."

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A Rose, a Journal and a Murderer
Chapter: 07
A broken doll like you is hard to fix—darling.

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In her dream she was standing in front of a long mirror, long enough to reflect her entire body. She was on a circular elevated platform centered in a room small enough to be a storage place—It was cold, really cold. Her hair was longer than it was in real life: it was in long perpetual ribbons of pale pink, like rosy vines wrapped around her torso and pink wisps that's framing her lovely face. She was in a black—no, ebony—colored corset, like a goddess of some sort: the mistress of a vampire.

She breathed icy air into her lungs and exhaled snow through her breath.

"Hello…" She called out meekly because she was scared, scared alone in this terribly small room that smelled of roses and death.

Sakura started to cry and down came tears of jeweled blood. Her hands reached up in an attempt to wipe them away but noticed the stiffness in her muscles—She had frozen to be a doll-like puppet with stitches around her once-flawless skin. She was made out of wood and now the corset that had once hugged her beautiful figure was now a stained white dress that made her look shapeless.

Now she was only a doll made out of whitewashed wood with green beads as her eyes.

A shadow formed in the reflection of her mirror and coalesced into a blonde girl (Puppet—Just like herself) with stunning blue eyes. The girl smiled at her, first sweetly then it turned sickening as the sides of her mouth torn from the stitches like someone was ripping her face apart. She wasn't made from wood but skin-colored sack that were now sweating blood through each pore.

"Becareful Sakura…" Her voice chimed in an eerie tone of thousand little voices. "He's going to kill you." She smiled but her eyes remained shocking blue beads.

Sakura began to shed more tears of blood but her eyes wouldn't blink. Puppets can't blink.

"I don't want to die."

The girl smiled again but her eyes held doll-like sadness to it. "Neither did we."

We? Sakura thought but when she looked back at the mirror, the glass was filled with broken puppets, all once beautiful like the blonde girl herself. Each had a wound of their own, different numbers carved into their (wooden, sack, leather, velvet, fibre…) chests. They filled the reflection and some struggled to seep out of the glass by reaching their broken boneless hands to her.

We didn't want to die—

We never wanted to die.

They all chanted in the same childlike chime and eerie mini voices that echoed with it.

The blonde girl now shed a teardrop of blood from her tear duct and it reached her pale, colorless hand. It turned to a rose with its stem bloody and filled with thorns.

"Save yourself, Sakura…"

A brunette puppet stared at her with hollow gashes in place of her eyes.

"Or you'll be one of us."

Sasuke was sharpening a blade in the kitchen when he heard Sakura stumbling through the doorway. He looked at her, nothing in his eyes not even a shred of emotion (just like the puppets she had seen in her nightmare.) The wine-colored bruises were fading away, much more watery than they were before and she wore the (ironically white) dirty shirt he had left lingering at the edge of the mattress. She didn't want to face him naked, not with the shame that was apparent in her tired, weary apple-green eyes.

"Let me go…" She narrowed her eyes at him but her graceful body was bending, in pain, ever so slightly. "Please."

He ignored her and continued to sharpen the blade in his hand.

Sakura hissed then coughed, blood spurting in tiny dots on his marbled kitchen floor.

The kitchen was odd, it wasn't anything like the two rooms she had previously been in—It looked human. The cabinets were made out of oak wood gilded in golden vines, there was a silver washing machine matching with a small silver dishwasher. There was a small, square glass dining table in the centre of the room with three chairs around it, and the walls were covered with patterned neutral-colored tiles.

"What do you want from me?" She questioned with slight desperation in her voice.

He still didn't answer.

Sakura looked around and saw the door to lead her way out and began to walk towards it…

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Sakura turned around and he was still not looking at her. "Why not? I can easily just scream and everyone will hear me."

"No they won't—I specifically had these walls designed so that they're noise-proof."

She ignored him and proceeded to turn the knob of the door and was sent a jolt of electrocution through her fingers. Her body slid down against the wooden doorframe and landed with a soft thud on the floor.

Sasuke chuckled darkly. "You think it's that easy to leave?"

It wasn't a question and Sakura knew it.

"WHAT DO YOU FUCKING WANT FROM ME!" Sakura shrieked so loudly that her voice scratched and ached, the tears pooling at the rim of her tired eyes.

She began to sob loudly and pathetically on the floor, having her shirt, the only cloth she had on to cover her body (for everything else from her has been ripped apart, even her knickers) lifted up to her waist, leaving her bruised legs bare. Her knees squeezed together so that her private parts were shielded away from his view—

Not that, he hadn't invaded her privacy to begin with.

Nothing. There was no emotion or any hint of movement from him other than sharpening the blade in his hands. It was starting to annoy the hell out of her. Uchiha Sasuke made his way towards her but his actions were not laced in anger nor were it nourished in satisfaction—Just plain and bare, like the expression he wore on his sickeningly handsome face. He stood before her now, her having to crane her neck up to look at his incredible height.

"Get up." He commanded.

She blinked and looked at him blankly. "What?"

"I said, get up. Now, do you really want to disobey me again?"

She didn't answer but (reluctantly) obeyed.

"Have you showered?"

Sakura scoffed rudely. "Yeah, like I totally know where the fucking bathroom is."

Sasuke scowled then slapped her across her face, leaving a harsh red mark against her pale cheek. Sakura let out a sharp cry of pain and surprise.

Despite the earlier harassment his voice remained cool and neutral. "I'm going to ask you again…"

Sakura blinked a tear from her eye.

"…Have you taken a bath?"

Fucking psycho. "No. I haven't."

He smirked then commanded her to take her clothes off and when she had defied him, he had forcefully ripped the shirt from her leaving another harsh red mark around her neck. Sakura didn't cry but gasped, as crying took too much energy and it was something she certainly did not have at the moment.

"Come with me."

Sakura had been dragged to the bathroom, the sore marks on her back from being pulled forcefully up the stairs remained raw red scratches. The bathroom was shockingly white with a splash of pale blue. There was a porcelain bathtub at the corner of the room and a cornered area where the shower was. It smelled of cheap soap and of lavender, musk and cologne. Some even of red roses and she swore that she'd been haunted by that florally smell ever since she got there.

Sasuke slid open the booth to the shower and beckoned her to go inside. She glared at him before she entered, her wrist being bounded again by the torn cloth of her former white shirt.

Technically, it wasn't hers to begin with.

He switched on the water-heater and a blast of piercingly cold water attacked her skin, which she let out another cry of surprise, then it gradually turned to comforting warmth. He held the head of the shower and began rinsing her tired and limping body then forced her to hold it for him as he pumped golden soapy liquid into his palms. Sakura screeched in pain when he (to her surprise, gently) rubbed it into her scratches on her back.

"Be quiet. This would heal it much faster." He grunted in concentration as he carefully massaged it into her wounded skin.

It stung so badly, Sakura couldn't help but cry.

The chemical numbed the pain in her skin and soon she smelled the strong citrusy scent as he soothingly rubbed it in her moist neck then down to her chest…

"What are you doing…?" She breathed out and suppressed the urge to moan at the warmth of his hands.

He narrowed his eyes at her question as if it was just the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

"I'm washing you. What else does it look like?"

Sexual Harassment, she desperately wanted to say but kept silent. Let the abuse begin later after her rest: if she was to get any.

His fingers reached each and every crevice in her body, massaging soapy liquid into her skin as it formed pale red suds—The cakey blood all dissolving away in the detergent-smelling product. Now he cupped the large mounds on her chest and brought her closer to him. As her back was pressed firmly to his chest, Sakura knew this wasn't any act of cleaning and she shut her eyes for whatever that was coming next. It was merely minutes ago when she felt (peculiarly) clean before she started to feel the fibre of disgust in her stomach tightened.

He slid his left hand down to the area between her thighs and carefully used his middle finger to caress it. She heard his deep throaty breathing vibrating in her back.

Sakura limped boneless against him from the unwanted pleasure, her knees buckling out from the weakness.

"Don't…" She breathed, slowly and erotically as the thick warm mist in the shower cabin began to mask their existence. "Please…"

But he didn't listen to her, as usual.

"Have you seen this girl?"

"No."

"Excuse me sir, have you seen this girl?"

"No, I'm sorry."

"Excuse me, have you seen this—"

"You've already asked me, freak."

Shikamaru slumped against an abandoned phone booth, not in his usual lazy manner, but from pure exhaustion. He had spent hours of his day with Temari, along with other school colleagues, to ask around Leaf Avenue using a recent colored-picture of Haruno Sakura, hoping for some luck that some may have an answer to her whereabouts.

"No."

"Sorry."

"What a pretty girl—Shame that I haven't seen her. Sorry."

"Dude, can I have her number?"

He felt like slapping each and every civilian he had asked but refrained himself from doing so because it wasn't worth the effort. Temari had came back with a regretful slump in her shoulder as she cried in Shikamaru's shoulder, clenching the picture of her lost friend in her right hand.

"We'll find her." He murmured through his fiance's wild sandy blonde hair.

Temari began to wipe the moisture from her nose. "I hope so."

What a shame, she thought, as she was left alone sitting in the corner of the running shower. Sasuke had left long ago after they had done their disgusting deed.

She was staring numbly as their bodily fluids were slowly swirling away in the drain.

Just when I thought I'd finally feel clean again.

A/N: Reviews prettyplease? Because you know you love a deliciouslypsychoperverted Uchiha Sasuke :)