This hurt. More than anything Naruto had ever experienced in his miserable six years. He was dying. The beatings, the shouting, and his groveling would all come to an end.
The villagers had used the festival as a distraction, as the third hokage was out making speeches and the like, so they could satisfy their hatred for this child. They had opted for the slow torturous approach, stabbing the child with broken beer bottles, a testament to their drunken states, and whipping him with their belts. This slow, agonizing torture went on for hours, and the child grew more and more unrecognizable, as their savage beatings made their marks on his frail body.
All the while, he sat and took it, thinking irrationally that they would relent in time. These villagers however, had truly nasty scars in their families, due to what this boy had sealed within him. They would not relent, they would not give up, and they would not stop until this 'scourge' didn't exist.
A particularly strong villager planted a fist in the boy's stomach, sending him slamming into the wall. Throwing knives pinned his limbs to the wall, breaking bones, and shredding muscle. The boy let out a low cry, trying desperately to stifle his tears, to never show weakness. The villager from before showed no mercy, sliding brass knuckles onto his fingers, punching the boy repeatedly, drawing blood each time. In ten minutes, the man stepped back, sliding the bloodied brass knuckles off of his fingers, and ripping the boy from the wall. The knives pinning him to the wall stayed firm, shredding the boy's flesh as he was ripped from the painted surface.
They were not done. They cut off his limbs and gouged out his eyes, throwing them all in the dumpster. The boys cerulean orbs flashed in the moon's light, and disappeared among the garbage. He let out a moan, his control over his emotions long gone, his dark red blood streaming down his face, and onto his neck. This was too much, and so he cried, he cried, even as the villagers kept up the beatings, until metal pierced through his abdomen. He gasped, the cold steel sliding though his flesh, until it met his ribs with a dull clack. He lowered his head as an omnipresent voice spoke, the voice of death itself.
"Your time has come, Naruto-kun."