Tittle: The Loveless Child

Rating: T (For mention of blood and angst)

Genre: Angst/Hurt-Comfort/Spiritual

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, Gaara`s character belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

Summary: When Gaara saw a young boy receive a hug from his mother, he couldn't help but feel jealous. For it was something he could never have, the loving embrace from a mother.

Six year old Gaara sat on the swing, rocking back and forth in a slow pace as he watched with sad eyes at the other children playing from a safe distance. He wasn't really sure what they where playing, but it involved kicking a ball. They would kick it back and forth among each other, some would try to steal it away and shout in enjoyment when it would hit the other teams net. The game looked quite boring from his perspective, but by the way they yelled and laughed it must have been fun to play. Gaara had always wanted to join them, but never really had the courage to actually ask. Mostly out of fear that they would run away and leave him behind...

The children ended their joyous game when the arriving parents called out their names. They all stopped playing and ran toward them like they haven't seen them for ages. Some parents ruffled their daughter or sons hair, others took a hold of their hands and walked together away from the playground.

But one scene caught his attention though. It was the sight of a woman hugging a young boy close into her chest. He stared secretly at them with glowing curiosity. They both looked so content in each others arms, smiling.

But his new found fascination soon turned into jealousy.

Gaara was envious of that kind of loving gesture. For it was a gesture he could never receive from the person he wanted it from the most.

He was lost into his own thoughts, until he discovered that the woman had caught him staring at them. A male, presumably her husband emerged from behind and placed a protective hand on her shoulder, eying him in return with disgust. The venomous glare they both gave him made him cringe, and he clutched his teddy bear closer to somewhat shield himself from their hateful gaze. They started to talk with one another in low voices, thinking he wouldn't hear them.

But he did.

"Monster" they murmured. "Demon".

Those words weren't new to him. But the way they said it hurt every time, like they had just said something that made their tongue taste bad. And their eyes...Their eyes were the worst. They eyed him with such hate and contempt that made him feel dirty and worthless at the same time. Like he was an abomination who wasn't supposed to exist in the first place.

Gaara felt his underlip tremble along with the tears that threatened to stream down his eyes. He bit harshly down on his lip to prevent himself from whimpering out loud. He wouldn't cry he thought, because he had heard from his brother, Kankuro that big boys aren't supposed to cry.

It still didn't make it any easier though.

Gaara had never really understood what he done to ever deserve such cruelty and rage. He was only a child! He hadn't done anything wrong, at least not on purpose...Gaara could still remember the first time he killed someone. He was just the tender age of 3, but he could still remember every horrid detail. The sight of sand crushing the mans body, the sound of his dying scream, the feeling when his warm blood splattered across his face...Gaara felt the sudden urge to vomit at the memory. But the evil man tried to hurt him! So why was he the one who got the blame...?

But it couldn't have been it. No, because people have resented long before that incident.

Even if it was the first memory he had of murdering a person, it wasn't technically his first kill. Yashamaru had told him the story about his difficult birth and how his mother died as a result of giving birth to him, her "precious child" as Yashamaru called him. But when Gaara was told about this, he couldn't help but feel guilty for being the reason to cause her so much suffering and eventually...death. But at the same time how could he? If having him was what she wanted in the first place. Didn't she prove that by trading her own life for his? Didn't that mean that she loved him?

Loved.

His thoughts wandered back to the memory of the woman hugging her son, and wondered how it must have felt like. He has never had the chance to experience it, since the sand would always prevent people from touching him. It sheltered him from every possible threat, just like a mothers protective arms...

Gaara stopped his musing as he repeated the last sentence in his mind.

He stared down at the sand and thought about what Yashamaru said about his mother. How he believed it was his mothers wish to protect him which resided within the sand.

So did that mean that the sand was a sign of his mothers love?

Gaara got an idea and started to immediately set it into motion. Gaara had lost count on how many times he admired his mothers portrait, and concentrated as he with great precession tried to model the sand into a females shape. The sand soon took the form of a young woman. She had shoulder length hair and bangs which covered her eyes. She had a round face with a sharp nose, thin lips and long slender arms. Gaara looked astonished up at the creation before him. The figure held a certain resembles to his mother, but it was no where as beautiful as she was.

Gaara held out his tiny arms in front of the sand-woman. The woman's arms began to move by it own accord and attached themselves around him. He felt the sand brush against his skin as he rested his face against what would have been its chest. He closed his dark rimmed eyes slowly and started to picture his mother in his mind. The sand was surprisingly soft and warm, probably from resting in the sun most of the day. He felt himself become overwhelmed by this new sensation as he sunk further into its embrace. Gaara didn't know what it was, but it gave a good feeling inside his heart. Never before had he felt so secured, wanted, loved...

Was this what people called happiness?

If it was, why was he crying.

Gaara realized he was crying when he felt salty tears trickle down his face. But this time he didn't do anything to stop it, and poured out all his hidden sorrow and pain into what was supposed to be his mothers loving embrace.

"I love you so much, okaàsama." he wept softly into its now tear stained chest. His hands started to dig deeper into the sand as his body began to shake uncontrollable. "Please..." he pleated. "don't ever l-leave me. I don't want to be alone anymore..." he whimpered, his voice cracking along the words. The loneliness hurt so much. Gaaras breath become irregular as he felt the strain around his heart become unbearable, like someone was crushing it in the palm of their hand. No matter how hard he tried, to love and help others, they always denied him and his feelings.

The villagers feared him for his strange powers.

His siblings hated him for taking their mothers life.

His own father couldn't even stand to look at him without becoming repulsed!

And Yashamaru...Yashamaru was the closest he got to a loving relative. He was a kind and soft spoken man, but he always kept a certain distance between them. This caused some doubt within Gaara. Gaara was grateful that he displayed some kind of fondness toward him, but he couldn't help but wonder that the only reason Yashamaru did that was because of his duty as his caretaker or because it was expected of him since they shared the same blood...

Like his love was nothing more then an obligation.

Why...Why doesn't anyone give me a chance...? Why cant I be loved like everyone else! he screamed heartbroken in his mind.

Gaara continued to cry as the sand drew him closer, the woman's head rested lightly upon his small shoulder.

"You will always receive my love...my precious Gaara."

Gaaras eyes shot up in an instant by the sound of a unknown woman's voice, making the sand fall momentarily on the ground. He stared with wide eyes at the pile of sand before him. What...was that? he thought shocked. He had never heard that voice before, but it sounded so gentle and yet familiar. Was that really his dead mother calling out to him?

Gaara pondered on the possibility for a while, before he shook his head by his absurd idea. Yashamaru had told him there didn't exist anything such as ghosts. So it couldn't have been anything but his wild imagination...Yes, it had to be it.

Even if he came to a reasonable conclusion, he couldn't help but look disappointed at the sand beneath him.

Maybe he just wasn't supposed to be loved.

A/N: This could kinda be seen as a third installment to my other two stories, so if people are interested in reading the previous ones then you`re welcome to go and check them out! They are called "A Mothers Worth" and "Sleepless Nights".

I also want to add that the reason Gaara seem so confused in the story is because he is unaware of Shukakus presence and his position as its host.

Anyway thanks for taking the time to read my one-shot!

- Cyanidespiderbites