Reincarnated Sociopath || Naruto (DISCONTINUED!)

I. The Sociopath

Daniela Petrović, a twenty-five year adult, a woman of Croatian-British nationality, and proud Doctor: Is not embarrassed to admit that her death was not even close to exciting nor was it unexpected-

» PAUSE...

But before we get into that shit, let's get a little bit of background facts about me.

Now the most important thing that you need to know about me, is that (as cliche as it will sound) ever since I could remember, it was always me and my ma against the world. There was never a man in my family picture. But it doesn't really matter, because I couldn't care less. I'm serious, I've never given a single fuck about that fact. My mother was all I had, and she was all I needed. Period.

It didn't take me long to figure out that I was not normal. Well, that depends what you would consider normal, anyways. But let's just say that if we're talking about common standards, I was and still am pretty different from the normal people. Physically I was pretty decent looking. Decent enough that charming humans is as natural as breathing. But Psychologicaly speaking...

While kids were going through their unnecessary tantrums phase, I was already going through consideration of planning what my future is gonna look like, not imagining it, but planning it.

While preteens we're going through their I'm better than you and I'm emo, leave me alone phase, I was contemplating which college would benefit for my future career, not what is good for me, but what would benefit me.

While teenagers where going through their godamnit, another pimple and fuck, I'm so horny phase, I was thinking about where me and my ma were gonna live after I get my job, not if I get my job, but when I get my job.

And while people show kindness and socialize whith other people is either because they are infatuated with them or they just simply have nothing better to do with their life's, while I only ever bother to associate myself with other people is only when they have my respect. Respect, or if they would benefit me in the future.

While people had friends', I had acquaintances.

While people had lovers'. I had one night stands.

While people were complaining about how overbearing their mothers' are, I was complaining over my ma overworking herself. Like, I already have a fucking well paid job, she should just take advantage of that and let me do all the work now.

While people get annoyed over how unfair their life is, I get annoyed about how unchallenging my life is.

To put it simply: my life was boring as shit.

Now back to where we were...

» START...

So back to why and how did I die.

Well... Let's just say that my mother died. How did she die? Cardiac death.

Apparently my mom had Arrhythmia. How the fuck did she manage to hide that from me- a doctor, nonetheless- the world will never know. But at least now I know where I got my natural lying abilities from.

I vividly remember all the emotions that I felt when I found out about it. I had to find out from my fucking boss, who got a phone call from the police, because I was in the middle of surgery, so my phone was turned off.

When I was told about my mother's death and the cause of it, my thoughts were 'how the fuck did she managed to hide something like that from me? The little minx' my first reaction was denial, but considering what my occupation is and my job is basically surrounded with people that either are going to die or are already dead, so my phase of denial didn't last very long.

After that, then followed my usual passive emotion, the same emotion that I already feel every day, and I thought that I was already over my mother's death. I would expect to feel at least a little something about her death than other people that I've know that have died, considering that my ma is the only human being that I respect (love) the most in this dull world.

But then came the time when I visited my mother's corpse at the morgue, I had to pull some strings, but that is nothing that a charming smile and an extra tip can't pull off. It was the moment that I laid my brown eyes at her body, her very dead body, that I felt something. It started with my chest feeling very heavy, that I felt like I was ready to fall on my shaking knees, that's how heavy my chest felt.

For a second I felt confused, I thought that there was something wrong with my body, maybe I cought something from the dead bodies, considering that the room is filled with it, but I don't remember anything that would make your heart feel like an heavy burden.

At the same time, I felt wetness on my face, my first reaction was to look up at the ceiling expecting (hoping) that maybe something was leaking, but it was not. I was crying.

And then I felt myself being shaked, it's was the diener that worked here.

It was then that I was aware that I wasn't just crying, I was bawling my fucking eyes out and breathing heavily. For the next hour the diener had to comfort me, while I held into my chest like it was gonna help with the heaviness. I was actually experiencing my first mental breakdown. Me, the sociopath. Just what has the world come to.

It's almost funny, how all it took was for my ma to die, to realise how much I needed her, how much I actually loved her and how she was the reason for my will to live on.

Even though I like to consider myself different from everyone else at my teenage years, that didn't stop me from feeling angsty emotions. Like wishing I could die. But those thoughts tend to go away very often, just as often as they appear. It was now that I realise that those I want to kill myself thoughts always left whenever I looked at my ma. She was my reason to want to live on.

Because she always sacrificed her happiness and her time just so I could be happy and spoiled. My mother was a strong woman, someone that I respect (someone that I love).

And now with her gone, I don't need to put up with this dull world. I don't have a reason nor the patience to want to live on.

So I planned everything out:

I was gonna kill myself at the day of my mother's funeral.

I bought my own gun that had one bullet.

And shot myself.

At the same place that my mother died.

My own room. The same room that she was in the middle of cleaning, right before... it happened.

But then... I woke up?