A/N: I don't own these characters. A bit weird, I know, but my girlfriend (squeal!) is in the shcool play, and I was inspired when I read her script of the Rimers of Eldritch. Basically, an old woman who's kind of insane talking about all her dead little pets, her children, gone gone gone. Enjoy!

-WP

They were my family.

One with such a mottled and depressing background as mine found it hard to find friends. Not that I minded. Oh, no, I can entertain myself well enough. Though it does get awfully lonely when I rarely even see civilisation. I'm not a cannibal. I eat humans, not my own kind. I am part plant, part God knows what. Neither are human. But Pein is. Leader-sama. Very much human, no matter what he does, no matter how many bodies he has. As is Konan, no matter her techniques. And Kakuzu, and Hidan, and Sasori, and Deidara, and Itachi, and Kisame. All human. Albeit, some are not the fleshy, bleeding humans I prefer, save Deidara and Itachi. I know they've noticed me eyeing them.

I alone am not human. I alone am the monster. Why am I alone? Why don't I have someone to share this life with? 'Moron', my darker side mutters, 'You're not alone. What am I?'. It's true, I'm never alone. But it does get so lonely, not being alone, doesn't it?

Corpses don't bend. They snap and stick out at weird angles, and they do not bend. Lugging them is a pain, and I rarely even bother, usually devouring them where they are. I don't eat rotting corpses. I like them cold. If they're in the sun, I usually wait around for night. I remember everything. Every fight, every word said, every blow thrown. It's a blessing I've always possessed.

Your first bite of human flesh is never the best. There's nothing addictive about it, though I do enjoy the coppery, cold blood sliding down my throat, and animals tend to be a little warmer. I do enjoy human hearts, however. They're rejuvenating, and

They were my family. They could stomach me, and some of them even talked to me. Akatsuki gave me a purpose, and its members an alleviation for my loneliness. Not that we had titles, or such. It wasn't as if they were my brothers, or anything like that. They would talk to me, and wouldn't throw things if they saw me.

And one by one, they died.

It was I who watched their last moment. Their opponents and I saw their destruction. I memorized every move, every word said, everything. I memorized the blood, the sweat, their final moments. I saw them dance in battle, their movements flowing into each other, growing more and more desperate, erratic, and finally terrified, as they were forced to become defensive, failing to land hits, and finally, falling. I watched as life flitted from their bodies, dissipating into nature. Their breathing, fighting, sweating, bleeding bodies suddenly became cold, stiff, drying bodies. Corpses.

And corpses are food.

I didn't want to. No one ever gave me a way out, though. I was bound to Pein, and no other. I owed him my allegiance and my life, and I would follow his orders. The first time, it was not so bad. There wasn't much of Sasori to consume. But the part I was supposed to eat was the worst. Why Pein-sama wished me to eat Sasori's heart was a mystery. But I ate his heart and burned his body and collected his ring. As his blood, stale and dry, slipped down my throat, I felt sick for the first time since my childhood. I wanted to be sick, so badly, my stomach was heaving and I couldn't breathe as I ran off into the forest. I felt a retraining clamp around my stomach, forcing everything from my body, a cold sweat breaking out on my clammy skin. I could sense the cold rushing in on all sides. I could sense it.

Sasori was so upfront. He did nothing that didn't help him. He was stoic, and never showed himself. A lot like me.

They started dropping like flies, after that.

Kakuzu was cold, and after consuming him, I could not get warm again. I shivered for hours on end, his blood pooling in my mouth, so cold, so chilling, so icy.

It was how the banker had lived. So cold. He detested humans, or anything alive, for that matter. How alike we were.

Hidan I could not retrieve, but I knew he'd be eaten anyway if he ever got out. That thought, I believe, kept me cold for days. Hidan was lost in the unknown. At least I knew where Kakuzu and Sasori were.

Hidan had been so insane. I remember the time I almost ate him for cutting down one of my trees. But he showed his madness, his strangeness, his diversity. If only I could be that open about my madness. I wish. But we were alike.

It took me a long time to track down Deidara's body. It was in little pieces all scattered around, and it was a sickening scavenger hunt before I had all of him. I didn't want to eat him. He had been so vivacious, so alive, and his last art wasn't meant to be consumed like everything else. It was fleeting, yes, but lasted in memory and spirit. I couldn't eat him. I just couldn't.

I broke down there, and I heard him in my head. My leader. He urged me on, yelled at me, did everything he could to get me to my feet and consume Deidara's flesh. I didn't tell him of my tears, of the searing pain I felt in my gut at the idea. Eventually, my leader got to the point of screaming at me that I owed him everything, and the least I could do was obey his orders. Remembering my position and status, I did it, and managed to hold it down. For a while. I didn't tell my leader when I was sick in the forest an hour later. Deidara's flesh tasted burned and ashy, chalky almost as it slid down my throat.

Deidara had lived impulsively, so whimsically. He had loved some, only when it suited his fancy, and had dedicated himself to his art. Dedicated, and impetuous. Opposites, yes, but so alike if you thought about it. If you had known Deidara.

I felt the cold sinking into me. It was coming. My very bones rattled with the cold of this impending something.

Itachi was next. I watched his battle, and I distanced myself. I could not feel this. I could not feel his death. I could not let it define me. But he was so cold, so stiff, so lifeless, that I had to accept it. I had to eat him, and he was the only one I kept down. I was too cold, too numb to bother throwing him up. I was even comforted by the thought I was in charge of what happened to him, in charge of his disposal. It was an honour.

Itachi had been silent and calculating. He never moved unless it was beneficial and efficient. No waste. No excess. No energy spent without a precise goal. I admire that, and wish I could be like that.

Kisame, surprisingly, didn't taste of fish. He was scratchy, I'll give you that, but not fishy. Bloody, hot, steaming almost. From his exertion, I suppose. He had been so straightforward. There was no depth, yes, but he didn't have a dark side, or a mean side, he was just Kisame. Out there. Himself. And I envied that.

Konan, after deserting, did not taste of paper. She tasted cold, and too willing. Not dirty, but dragged through the mud. So lonely, she was. How she just fell to her knees and begged for it. I did it silently, knocking her out before I cut her throat. I didn't want to eat her. But I had to keep her a secret. She was so tired by that point, so ready for death. So I ate her. She was beautiful and cold, and sweet. She lived a terrible life, a dark life, a life shrouded in sadness and death. I was glad, almost, to end it at her will.

Madara loses his cool. That's what happened to Pein, after all, all of him. I didn't mind those, exactly. Can't imagine why. I don't know how he lived his life, but all I knew was the part he had spent threatening me and bossing people around. He had his reasons, I'm sure.

My family, they're all gone now. They went one by one. Gone, gone, gone.