A/N: Hello readers! Welcome to my story! I hope you like it. I just started this randomly out of boredom. That's all I have to say.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. Duh. I also don't own Neosporin and I don't care to either.

Warning: Not for the weak at heart. Or the weak at stomach xD

Panting, the young boy curled up in a ball, hoping it may ease the pain. His eyes were tightly shut; his teeth were grinding against each other. Another layer of blood covered his wooden floor as he dragged the knife along his flesh again and again. He let out a scream, but he kept going. You deserve this, you sorry excuse for an Uchiha he thought as the blade dug deep into his forearm. He let out another ear-piercing scream, but nobody could hear him.

All of the buildings around him were empty and lifeless. His entire clan was viciously murdered by his elder brother: Itachi Uchiha. Sasuke, the sole survivor of the Uchiha massacre, couldn't find it in his heart to forgive himself for letting his sibling get away with this scot-free. But that's how it played out; he couldn't change the past. All he could do was atone for his short comings now.

The dizziness was getting to him. He decided that was enough for now, as he choked out another yelp while removing the knife from his side. If he went too far and died, he would never fully be able to pay for letting Itachi get away. He forced himself slowly to his feet and dragged himself to the bathroom, to cleanse his self-inflicted wounds.

He tore off his stained shirt and went into auto-pilot. He had been doing this for years, ever the incident when he was seven. He ripped off old, tattered bandages and examined his wounds. These were the worst yet; he'd even caused some old ones to reopen. His crimson blood glistened in the light. He cringed when his eyes found his raw flesh opening to reveal bone. That's gonna need some Neosporin he noted as he reached into the large medical cabinet. The pain of cleaning his wounds didn't even register in his brain he was so used to it. That and he was almost numb in most of his body.

At first, his cutting sessions weren't so bad. He would give himself a few small cuts in the arm and go find some band aids. But as the years went on, his hatred for himself grew stronger, and his cutting sessions grew longer. He began leaving larger gashes in his arms, not waiting for previous wounds to heal. When he ran out of room on his arms, he moved to his sides and legs. He could cut for nearly an hour without stopping until he just about passed out. People would stare at him when he walked the streets, whispering to each other. How could a twelve year old do this kind of thing to himself? They knew he had no family, so being abused by a parent or guardian was out of the question. He had started wearing sweaters and jeans, even in the summer, to keep eyes from prying.

By now, his wounds were cleaned and dressed, but he still felt light headed and ached everywhere. He figured the floor could be cleaned tomorrow, and he put himself to bed.

He made no sound, but a tear slid down his cheek as he slipped into unconsciousness.

A/N: Okay, I wrote this while listening to Linkin Park's Meteora CD. Those of you who have heard it know it has a very melancholy feel and sound to it. That explains the massive cutting and very emo Sasuke. I hope you weren't too depressed by chapter one; he won't be this jacked up forever! Either way, please review!