I can't thank you all enough for the reviews, favorites and follows. They definitely made me grin like an idiot for quite some time. (Hugs and kisses! :3 )

I hope this clears up (if not much) some of the confusion and gives a heading to the composition I posted earlier. I think it needs one or two more chapters and then it will be summarized up neatly.

This chapter is a series of flashbacks which I have written in italics.

Also… to answer the reviewer who asked where no. 5 was, it was deliberately cut out to signify the time difference between the two (4 and 6). The events for the first part were not in chronological order that is why the numbers were there in the first place. I'm sorry that it caused so much confusion. Gomenasai!

P.S: Apologies for such a late update. I was so busy… (''ᴖᴥᴖ)

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. The following fic is written for entertainment purposes only.

HIS

α

She stared.

Her hands gently ran up her pale skin, slowly caressing the dip made by her collarbone, and then with equal tenderness her fingers curled around her slender neck. The reflection flawlessly followed.

Gulp. She felt the push against her hand resembling an obstructing knot that defiantly retaliated with the swallowing motion. Eyes straying to the manicured nails that traced the purplish blemishes adorning her skin like tattoos of congealed blood, her lips parted, realisation heavy and damp slipping through the crooks and nooks of her mind. An eerie calm seemed to embrace her, the sight of her used and sore body too familiar, too ordinary.

Until a spark of remembrance obliterated all thought, all serenity.

The whisper was sensuous and deep, breath caressing her skin pleasurably. "You're mine, Hime…"

She began clawing, scraping, tearing at the contusions to remove them from her body with rashness to the movement so she could rid herself of the mark of his presence.

So she could rid herself of the sinful desire that accompanied it.

It was morning.

The night had passed.

Her hands trembled, crusting fine coats of scarlet as a thin trail of blood meandered down slowly, mockingly, slithering past the soft white mounds until it hid under her flesh mimicking a conspicuous stain that bloomed like a parasite. The wan orbs shifted from the swell of her breasts falling down and lower.

Reminiscing, she bit down on her lip, hard; the sudden twinge abruptly towed the sour metallic tang along with it.

So nauseating. So unlike.

•°•°•

Fear was the tastiest of inflictions; more luscious than lust, more satisfying than happiness, more engrossing than pain.

•°•°•

She shifted, legs slowly seeking refuge closer to her chest as her arms clamped around herself in a protective grip.

The wall was cold against her back, leaching away the warmth from her skin. The dress that clumsily covered her body was soaked from the patting touch of rain that slinked past where the top of the concrete confinement was giving in. Black ceremoniously engulfed the horizon, clouds and thunder bringing with them a rumbling tide of gloom.

It had been a year since her father had ousted her to this place. A sanctuary, he had said, it was a sanctuary for someone like her. It was a roof above her head; the food was enough to keep her alive. What more did she need?

It was enough.

More than enough.

The plaster stuck to her skin, a wrenching trickle of tears cascading down her cheeks as her body sought to stop its trembling in the cold. Her hands bundled the sheet snatching it from atop the thin mattress draped over the broken bed.

It was a sanctuary.

Rain water began pooling around her in sinuous coats and the sheet eagerly gulped the moisture when it encompassed her.

It was a sanctuary.

Head bent down, she watched the damp globule marking her pain drop from its cage amongst her lashes as it fell above her reflection.

She was trapped…

Her gaze flicked to her right as the bright flash from the roaring thunder illuminated her surroundings just so she could convince herself, just so she stop herself from believing.

There was something entrancing about him. A poignant shadow seemed to have engraved itself in the essence of his presence. The ebony hair effectively hid his eyes that were controlling and dominant, grasping and deadly.

He stood, watching.

There was something graceful about him. His posture reflected authority and pride in such an alluring manner that it always managed to awe her. Then he moved towards her like a predator, slow and calculating.

It was a sanctuary.

She shifted… back, away.

It was a prison.

Fists balled and trembling, she stared up at him. He slowly crouched, until he was face to face to her, lifeless as a statue. Her eyes instinctively closed when his cold numb fingers gently pulled her chin up.

She was trapped… trapped with him.

The smirk twisted his lips almost instantaneously as the thought had flooded her mind with terror.

She visibly flinched.

•°•°•

Scars etched upon the soul could not be replaced. They never healed. They could only be hidden.

•°•°•

The scream reverberated like a haunting echo bouncing off the walls as she treated herself with the memory of her past. Every day she would stand in front of the crudely polished mirror embedded in the wall at the far end of the room. Slipping out of the flimsy white fabric that scarcely covered her body she would stare at the scars, at the light threads of her ever existing pain.

Forage was what Hinata did, forage for the real her amongst what had been and what was now.

The sun would always be close to setting at that moment and a serene silent cover of darkness would soon engulf her surroundings as she would wait.

She would wait, eyes closed, a deep breath filling her lungs.

She would wait for him.

She knew he would be there once she opened her eyes. She knew that those lifeless depths of onyx would be penetrating her with a scrutinizing precision trying to yank something unknown from within her skin. His gaze would rake her form and she would feel the nonexistent touch linger. She knew that even then the rational part of her being would classify it as a nightmare, an illusion, and simply try to forget.

She would try to forget.

She would try to forget herself as he would hide her scars by carving more into her skin, marking her with redefinition.

•°•°•

Red was unusual. It was captivating and horrifying.

•°•°•

Paralysis. An odd word it was, the meaning so misleading; numbness and loss of control, characterized by the loss of feeling. They termed her condition as paralysis. Semi-paralysis through sleep.

She did lose control; her body did refuse to pay heed to what her mind would frantically instruct it, as numbness grabbed hold of her limbs whenever she tried to retaliate, but the loss of feeling?

Her sleeping form shifted in the dark as she drew her legs up slowly and her fingers curled around the fabric of her dress at her thigh and tugged at the hem. He watched her breathing deteriorate and become heavy; the invigorating scent of her want, need, present and inviting. She painted an utterly enticing picture as she lay there, the dress pooling down off from her shoulder marking the rise and fall of her chest, the hem hiked up to show her milky thighs, as she yearned.

So pure.

He watched her, noticing how her nails pressed into the supple flesh of her thighs, grazing crescents of soft pink as she bathed in the frustration of her arousal. It cut through him like a stake of blazing metal when she moaned quietly, asking, begging.

So naïve.

The trail of whispers of kisses silently promised more as he spread her thighs and inched closer to the soaked heat between them and finally dipped two fingers inside, slowly stretching her.

Hazy vision greeted her when Hinata tried to make out her surroundings amidst the dozy spells of bliss. The sound of her breathing was dominant and resonant to her own ears when she tried to discern reality from what was her imagination. The rise of the morning sun would present her this as a dream but the boisterous plethora of sensations that grasped her defiantly contradicted it and worked to depict him as a wondrous symphony of pleasure and pain.

Her eyes fluttered open and then closed as she focused on the sensual torture he inflicted. Thoughts flaring with fervour, words seemed to be lost to her lips except one.

Her voice was a breathless whisper, "Sasuke…"

Pleasure like burning spikes ran in soft currents up her skin as she felt him lean down. The kiss placed was tender, almost affectionate, but the flick of his tongue lingering above her heated skin was hungry. She shivered, body trembling under his which only encouraged him.

The swirls and licks were deliberate and knowing, perfect and flawlessly instigating as his fingers on a set rhythm moved in and out, the pace stoking the burning ache of need, hot and red, somewhere deep inside her. It grabbed hold of her like thick clanging chains as she helplessly drowned in his touch.

She felt.

She felt the bittersweet twinge dance through her as she blindly put her hand in his and he guided her to the brink of the precipice, tricking her into thinking it was the mirage she was searching for. Now she stood dangerously close to the edge and his kisses, the sinful caresses of his tongue, his wicked and tantalizing words only prompted her next step.

All she did was comply.

He lapped and suckled on the bead that had stood out to attention continuing his ministrations as tingling tremors ran up and down her body and hips lifting Hinata sung out her release by calling out his name, a sweet whimper laced to her voice.

The fall numbed her, intoxicated her.

Coherence gone astray, she looked up at him. He was looming above her, lips hovering precariously close to her own, her pants heaving chest pressing against his in a tempting manner. Her sultry gaze tried to memorize him for another day, lips parted expectantly awaiting the chance to savour.

The crimson slowly oozed out in a thin line from his bottom lip when he bit down on it hard. She stared. Real. He was… He was real. Hands shaking, she cupped his face. Real.

Claiming her with an amorous kiss, he let her relish her essence mingled with the coppery tang of his blood joining them in the glow of licentious passion.

She tasted red as he had tasted her.

His grip on her wrists tightened considerably when the moan, loud, instinctive and feral, escaped her lips. She felt the press of his body against hers and embers of blatant desire were set alight once again.

•°•°•

To the devil sin was pleasure.

•°•°•

"I apologize for that Hinata. But it had to be done. Both your father and I suspected that some pieces from the puzzle were missing. Now, I know we can't blame you that, of course. You might not know of it consciously but—"

"My f-father…?" She nodded gravely, a pained bitterness overwhelming her tone, "B-but I thought you said…th-this was supposed to…be a private—that what I told you or what you conclude is wrong with me, I would know of it first and… and then h-him…"

"Yes, but Hinata… you mentioned…"

Hinata had already stood up, her head bent down and gently nodding in agreement or not, Ino could not decide. "I would like to leave."

"But we did learn something from—"

"Please call him, Miss Yamanaka. I would like to leave now."

The cordiality somewhat made Ino stop. "Miss Hyuga—"

"I w-was put into hypnosis ag-against my will. I… I agreed to this because you said that this would—that you could… would help me… and that he would never know, that… what—whatever methods w-will be used would first go through me," Her gaze hardened, face moulding into an expression unforgiving, "That w-what would be done would be for my betterment."

Sigh. "It was for your own betterment, Hinata…"

"My father's involvement is not for my betterment, Doctor, and you know that."

The young woman had already clasped the little bag that she had brought with her and was at the door as if just staying here would like a suffocating noose grab hold of her and Ino for the first time felt a strange sort of despair when working with her patients.

Hinata was right, bringing the girl's father into the equation was wrong. Ino should have fed the man false information regarding his daughter's condition like she previously had, so she would not be put into any more danger.

But I had no other choice, I didn't know what else to do, Ino was about to say but she stopped, mouth parting then closing when she realised the graveness of the situation.

There was both betrayal and pain written on the Hyuga heiress' face, so deep, so thick that it was wrenching. The blonde did not know when she had come to care for her patient but she did want what was best for the blue haired woman and seeing her like this—it was not—

Hinata had turned, colour drained eyes glistening with tears and with a heavy voice she said, "Please. Call my father. I would like to leave."

There was vulnerability to her which compelled the psychiatrist to help, but for some reason she could not stop the words before they slipped from her lips, "I told him because you told me who it was, Hinata."

That caught her attention.

Ino knew that now the bait was taken, she should not let the truth slide past the barrier she had helped the Hyuga build, that she should come up with a lie to help Hinata but something in the way her patient's betrayed look compelled her.

"You said it was Sasuke."

Hinata froze.

•°•°•

"W-who are you?"

His smirk was predatory and had caused shivers to run down her spine the first time she had seen him. It couldn't be… It just… He wasn't…

His voice was calm, intense and rich just like it had once been yet it had felt so dead, so lifeless. "It has only been three months since I was gone and you already forgot, Hime…?"

She gulped when the pet name left his lips.

It was not him.

It was not possible.

He was dead.

She had been there when they buried him into the sand. She had shrieked madly when she had seen him lying there, had cried, begged over and over for him to come back, for him to come back to her as they dragged her away. Her trembling hands had held his face, pain so sharp that it split her veins apart, when her eyes searched for him in those unmoving black pools that stared right back at her. Kami… Give him back to me… Please, I beg of you. I beg of you. Give him back… Give him back… Please, please! Vision blurry with tears, she had screamed her throat raw for days trapped in one room, their room, hands buried in her hair, clasping and pulling and pulling. He was not here. Her red rimmed eyes flicked from the silky covers draped on their bed, the windows covered with blinds, to the door, expectant, so foolishly expectant. He would come back. He would… She was clutching something to her chest, his shirt. He had not though. He did not come back. He was gone. Her head rested against the wall, lips quivering. He was gone. Tears like acid had corroded her skin. Sasuke… Her cracked hoarse voice had echoed, pain cleaved into it so deep, it ripped through her throat when she cried, calling out for him in the darkness. Sasuke!

He was gone.

Three months… Just three months… It felt much, much more than that though.

He was here.

She looked at the man in front of him. It could not be him.

He watched her when she reached out, hands shaking, reached out for him, her eyes searching for proof, the lone tear cascading down. "S-Sasuke?"

•°•°•

"Sasuke's dead."

Ino watched as those words left the Hyuga's tautly pulled lips, her tone cold and detached. She had never seen her patient this… furious.

"Hinata…" She started.

Something shifted. Something took place of the rage that had momentarily blazed in her eyes, something weaker, resigned and the psychiatrist could only stare in awe.

Hinata's voice fell to a whisper, eyes descending down to her hands, which were trembling, "He's gone. Forever…"

Silence eerily settled afterwards.

Ino gulped, hands reaching for the phone to call the Hyuga's father.

She remembered clearly when the two men who worked for Hiashi had grabbed her and dragged her off on their first session and she had kicked out, lashed with so much fervour, "He's coming back. He's coming back" The three words left tongue like a chant. She had said it with determination, belief so strong that Ino had thought it were impossible to make the Hyuga believe otherwise. Grief had taken toll on her. As time passed, she had grew distant, she talked about him less and Ino thought it to be progress that she was helping her overcome it.

Her hand shook as the doctor realised how wrong she was as she put the phone back down again.

•°•°•

His smirk had only grew wider and there was something unnatural, wicked to it. She had not seen him coming, he had grasped her hands in a bruising grip when she had reached out and she had crashed into him. Heart thudding fast, Hinata gulped slowly, pain of loss taking on a new toll as fear settled in. Fingers trailed down her back, possessiveness so strong that she shivered.

"S-Sasuke…?" She said again. Something was wrong… He was not… He…

"Whatever you want me to be, Hime…"

Not him. Not him. Her Sasuke was not like this.

The push was hard. He stumbled back.

"W-what are you do-"

The gasp that left her was fused with horror when she saw him.

She stepped back.

He only smirked.

•°•°•

Her gaze flitted back up; colour pinched lavender gaping right back at her.

The bruises were reminders. Reminders of naivety, of her weakness, her vulnerability.

Turning around and away from the mirror, Hinata padded out towards the bed.

It had been a new day.

And it would only end with the darkness corrupting the bright horizon.

I'm not sure if this leaves you with more confusion or not… If yes, please be patient, I'll shed more light on what's going on in the next chapter. Also, the next chapter will not be broken down into drabbles of sort like this and the previous chapter was so hopefully it will be better.

Btw, Cream-O, you're close. ;)

Thanks once again for the support. And I apologize for any mistakes.

-Yuka.