Four days earlier...
A train whistle cut through the air, soaring through my ears like a warning. The ground rumbled as the monstrous engine shot across the tracks. The railway lights flashed, halting traffic that wasn't there, and warding away clueless pedestrians.
I glanced up from my sketch book, the scrawling of my pencil drowned out by the quaking of the train. I watched it pass by, listened to it aid the pain of my headache. Without touching it I knew the cloudy, poison looking bruise was still branded onto the side of my face. It seemed to speak onto the cause I'd been fighting, urging me to admit the lie was truth after all.
My finger tips lightly brushed the purple and blue skin, too soft to call forth the sting. My vision started to blur and I fought the memories. I focused once more on my sketchbook, trying hard to put it out of my mind. But the thoughts kept knocking, kept singing, kept scoffing. The strokes of my pencil were rough and deep, carving lines into the paper. Faster and faster I moved my hand. My heartbeat matched the rhythm, and soon my breathing did too.
The paper tore. I stared at it with tears fighting their way out. It was a drawing of a boy nearing the end of his teen years. Everywhere, I'd penciled in bruises, cuts, and gashes. I'd colored what was meant to be blood in dark gray; it was everywhere. The tear was across the face of the image.
A whimper slipped from my mouth and I wept. Burying my face in my knees I finally lost the fight. I watched it happen again and again. I was the soul person in the audience, chained down by the horrible thing called recollection. He hit me. He punched me. He kicked me. It wasn't just my face; my whole body trembled from the ugly reminders. My flesh was painted black, blue, purple, and yellow. My bones cried out to me, and my heart seemed to cave in on itself.
I had been warned. I was just fourteen. Too young for those things, too young for him.
I looked up at the sound of footsteps. A little boy had wandered into the sandy plot alongside the tracks. A bright red ball bounced ahead of him and he chased it merrily. I let clumps of brown hair fall before my face to hide the redness of my eyes, and the hideousness of my bruise. I scanned the place for anyone else. The boy couldn't have been more then four; surely someone was watching him. No one was in sight. Only the abandoned and fading white buildings gave company to the child and me.
From the distance came to sound of another train. It wasn't close enough for concern, but it was a pull on my desires all the same. Would he care? I wondered, then asked why it mattered. He wouldn't; no one would. It take days for my absence to even be noticed. The train drew closer, but was not yet in sight. I breathed deeply, taking the whistle as a serenade composed solely for my broken state. My eyelids drifted closed. I wanted to surrender to the fitful sleep that was sure to come.
“Come back!”
My eyes flashed open and my back straightened. The railway lights began to flash as the train came into sight. A fiery red ball rolled onto the tracks and rested there. Tiny hands reached out as an equally small body dashed for the toy. The boy stopped down and picked up the ball, the turned at the sound of a whistle blowing. His little body tensed and he stared.
My thoughts were left behind me as my body left. I was running, running faster than I had before. I slid under the lowered arms of the roadblock and straightened out. The train was deafening as my feet touched the tracks. As I shoved the child forward, I turned my head to the engine baring down on us. The boy fell face first into the dirt on the other side of the track, but I just stood there. The trained wailed as the breaks uselessly fought the train's force. It happened too fast.
I could have saved us both...
My body was forced down as the impact sucked my beneath the train. My head smashed into grill while my arm was ripped away by the wheels. I was flipped over, my bones jarring and splintering as I collided with the underside of the metallic beast.
But I didn't want too...
My leg caught on something and was wrenched into a spiral. My spine seemed to turn completely around in the center, and my remaining arm was crushed. My face crashed into the tracked, forcing my jaw to come open where it wasn't meant to.
I didn't do this for him...
A pipe bashed into me, hurling my to side. The wheels dragged at my cloths, pulling me into them. The spinning of the metal discs minced into my side, flaying my rib cage. Bones, blood, and guts sprayed the tracks and underside of the train.
I did this for me.
My skull met the next set of wheels.
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Chapter notes: I'm sorry for posting this so long ago and never updating it. I list interest in it for awhile, but rediscovered it last night. I appreciate reviews, as they are encouraging. You'll get a better idea of who the character in this is, but this is a really short chapter. I promise it'll be Naruto-world stuff next chapter. Oh! And I changed the color of her sweater. It's not olive anymore, it's dark blue.