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Hope Leaves	By : pegarsus9 Category: Dragon Ball Z > General Views: 2544 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or its characters and make no money from this story. Blah.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
THIS CHAPTER: Trunks and Goku head off to look for Bulma and Bra with no way of knowing whether they're alive or not. Bra must play the Prince's twisted game if she hopes to save her mother. Vegeta falls back under Lennon's control and Goten is left floating in limbo, powerless to alter anything.

WARNINGS: N/C, graphic violence/disturbing scenes

“Don't Fear the Reaper”

All our times have come

Here but now they're gone

Seasons don't fear the reaper

Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain…we can be like they are

Come on baby...don't fear the reaper

Baby take my hand...don't fear the reaper

We'll be able to fly...don't fear the reaper

Baby I'm your man...

-Blue Oyster Cult

***

Bulma somehow managed to gulp in just enough breath to call to her daughter, even though she could barely breathe from the pain and the constriction of her air supply. 'BRA NO! Run away, just run as fast as you can and get help! Don't stay here baby, mummy will be OK! RUN!'

'I don't think so,' the prince growled angrily, removing his hand from around her neck, pulling her head back by the hair and slamming it into the door. The last thing Bulma saw before everything went black was the door splintering in two with Bra's foot coming through the middle, and the thick blood dripping from her head wound onto the spotless polished floor.

When the door fell down, a terrifying sight confronted Bra. There was her mummy, slumped on the floor in front of her as if she was sleeping, with her clothes all ripped and blood running down her face. All the colour drained from the child's cheeks as she looked on in horror, tears shimmering and spilling quickly from her eyes. Instantly she was at Bulma's side, pulling at her hair and thumping her chest and shoulders, trying to wake up.

'Wake up mummy...' she sobbed, not making much sense through the tears, 'Wake up, wake up!'

Her pleas were interrupted by a loud explosion near her head, which sent her flying back out into the hall where she collided with the wall. With a great deal of effort and despite the pain in her back from the collision, Bra forced herself to get up. She had to run away and get help, like her mummy told her to. Racing down the halls as fast as she could, she first found the mobile phone in Bulma's handbag, and then looked for her brother's number just the way her parents had shown her. She rang again and again until her brother's sleepy voice echoed on the other end of the line, but all she could do was cry in response to it.

'Bra... what's wrong? How come you're crying?'

'You gotta come here Trunks,' she sobbed quietly. 'He's hurt- hurtin mummy...'

'What, who did? Who hurt mum?'

'You gotta-' her voice was cut off. There was a loud noise as if she'd dropped the phone, and then he heard her screaming.

'Bra? Bra?! What's wrong, where did you go?!'

The prince watched as the little girl dropped the phone, and listened with amusement to the confused sound of Trunk's voice, still calling out to her from the other end of the line. It became difficult to hear what the boy was trying to say over the sound of her high pitched, fearful screaming, which was funny at first but quickly began to hurt his ears. He knelt down and pressed a button on the fallen phone, ending the call.

'Silence!' he barked, grabbing the girl so he could cover her mouth with his hand. 'That's much better. I'm getting too old for loud noises. Now, I think you'll recall earlier on this morning that I told you we were all going to play a little game, me, you, and mummy. I practiced playing the game with Goten earlier today and it was lots and lots of fun, so I'm sure you girls will love it. Now this is what we're going to do. First you have to close your eyes for 10 minutes, and I'm going take mummy somewhere and hide her. Now this is the important part. You'll have a whole hour to try and find her, and if you do and the two of you manage to run away and hide yourselves well, you both might get to live, understand? It's simple as can be, even for a silly child like yourself. You will have one hour and not a minute longer, because Brie and the fat man are idiots and I'm sure they won't deal with your brother correctly. As soon as he escapes, he'll probably find Goten's brother and father, and they're all going to be a tad angry with me when they find Goten's body,' he chuckled, sounding terribly pleased with himself. 'That's probably going to happen soon and they'll come straight here afterwards, so time is of the essence my girl. Unlike your idiot father I'm not stupid enough to take on Kakarott. I'll be long gone before that clown arrives.'

Suddenly the prince felt small, sharp teeth cutting into the soft flesh of his hand and he pulled it away from the child's mouth swiftly, laughing at her pathetic effort to hurt him.

'What'd you do to Goten?!' she demanded, her voice still shaking. 'And you leave my mummy alone! I don't wanna play your stupid game!'

'Aww, don't hurt my feelings daughter dearest. You know what happens when I get upset,' he whispered in a sad voice, pulling a large knife out of his boot. 'Wouldn't want me to get so upset that I used this on your mummy would you? You know how your daddy tends to take it out on other people when he gets mad.'

'He does not!' she replied insistently, now more frightened by the sight of the knife but trying not to show it. Being a child, she couldn't hide emotions very well.

'Whatever you say. Now answer me quickly, because this is your only chance to save yourself and your mother. I'm basically giving you the chance to run away and escape from me, but it’s one chance and one chance only. Will you, or will you not, play the game with me?'

'Why do you wanna play a game?' she asked with confusion and mistrust written all over her face along with the anger. 'You're gunna trick me...'

'Why do I want to play a game? The question is, why wouldn't I want to play a game? Doesn't everyone want to play games?' He was leering at her with that strange smile that made her daddy's face look so wrong. 'When I was a child, I never had any friends to play with, and do you know why? Because your father and I used to live in the same body. Unfortunately he was in charge of the body, and he was a dimwit that nobody liked so of course he could never make any friends. Unlike me, he just couldn't master the art of pretending to be a nice, likeable person. But I didn't fool you, did I girl? You always knew I wasn't your daddy. How could you tell? Was it because I wasn't moody and stupid and socially inept, or prone to fits of childish emotion? What was it that tipped you off?'

'I hate you!' she screamed. 'You're a bad, nasty man! My daddy's nothing like you and he's not stupid. You're stupid! When Gohan and Goku and my brother come here, they're gunna beat you up and stomp on you 'cause you're a nasty bug!'

Now that one really sent him into a fit of laughter. 'Fantastic! You ought to write that one down! Ahh children, they're great value for entertainment. Come on Bra, say yes or no, either you play my game or the two of you die right now. What will it be?'

She stared hatefully at the horrible man, then at the knife. Bra was a smart girl, and she knew she'd have to play along with this stupid game even if he was crazy and she didn't understand what in his crazy brain made him want to play a scary game like this. She'd just have to be smarter than him and win, and if she took enough time to win, then someone would get here to help her.

'I'm not gunna lose,' she whispered very quietly, eyes filled with determination despite her trembling lip. The prince smiled and ran his hand gently over her soft baby cheek and fragile little neck.

'Excellent choice. Luckily for you it's summer in this country, or you might have frozen to death out there. That would have been rather anti-climatic. But I doubt you know what that means.' With that, he picked her up by the collar of her dress and opened a nearby cupboard, throwing her inside and flashing her a vicious grin. 'That's where you stay while I hide mummy. Don't try to get out until I come for you, because you won't be able to. I hope for your sake you aren't afraid of the dark.'

The door was slammed shut loudly, and Bra was left alone, frozen stiff with fear. How would she find her mummy out there, with all those trees and plants? This place looked so big to her, who was so small. Even if something was big and weird and funny looking, like Mr Buu, you wouldn't be able to find it hidden in a place like this. Again there was a lump in her throat and tears were threatening to fall. But no, she couldn't cry now, she had to win or bad things would happen. She'd cheat to find mummy, by looking for the feeling of her life energy. Then she'd win for sure. For a long time she waited, until the door mysteriously swung open, revealing that no one was standing on the other side. All she could see was a stop watch sitting on the ground, the seconds on the timer flashing and changing rapidly. This was one of her mummy's watches, Bra had seen her use it when she was making inventions and trying them out. Two minutes gone. What was an hour again? Sixty seconds, one minute, sixty minutes, one hour, her brother taught her. Time to run.

Outside the air was crisp, but not cold. She could feel something, something that felt like her mother, but the energy kept moving around. Follow, just follow it. The moon was full and it provided a little light, but the shadows amongst the trees were still dark and scary. She kept on going, running, trying to stick to the walking tracks, but it was hard not to bump into things. Where the bush was thick, it was really hard to see. This was the scariest thing she'd ever had to do all her life. There were so many sounds of owls and other creatures, echoing through the night and frightening her. She kept scratching herself, bruising her elbows and knees and falling over as she moved towards the very faint life energy. Finally she got to a more well-lit part of the bush, but it turned out to be even scarier. Bra kept thinking she saw people creeping around at the corners of her vision. Maybe she was just imagining it. That's what Trunks always said when she told him there were scary things outside her window or under her bed.

Snap. That was a twig or leaves crackling like when you step on them. Snap. Snap. Snap. They were everywhere... she could hear people creeping everywhere around her. Talking too, the sound of it coming from behind the trees. Bra's eyes darted back and forth nervously, watching the people running around in the shadows as she continued to run herself, barely thinking of where she was going now. The more she looked around, the more people she saw. Not long afterwards she stopped dead in her tracks, paralysed by her fear of the many silhouettes wandering all around her, steadily getting closer and closer to where she had fallen to her knees. 'Go away pretend monsters, you're not real,' she whispered quietly to herself, rocking back and forth for comfort. Though she had tightly covered her eyes with trembling hands, she could still hear them. And now they were laughing, first softly and quietly, then louder and louder, their sinister voices echoing through the night.

***

(Some time afterwards, Trunk's POV)

Trunks came to a halt and began waving his arms frantically when he spotted what he'd been looking for. There was Goku, flying towards him.

‘Goku stop!’ he called out, sounding hoarse. ‘We’re going back the way you came. Gohan is taking care of Goten. Turn around.’

‘Hey Trunks!’ Goku replied enthusiastically as the teenager reached him and slowed down. ‘So Goten’s OK huh?’

‘Um, yeah. They’ll probably take him to the lookout, he’ll... he’ll live. Just follow me. I really need your help. Please.’

‘Sure, I can help. Are you gunna tell me what’s going on here,’ he scratched the back of his head and grinned, ‘cause I have to admit that I’m a bit lost. It’s all happened so quickly. Hours and hours ago we all sensed something was really out of whack with Goten and now-‘

‘We’ll talk about it when we get there,’ Trunks cut him off sharply. ‘I need you to get me somewhere fast. If I tell you the place, can you IT there even if there’s no energy signal to anchor you? Mum and my sister are in danger and I can’t feel their energy signals at all anymore. I only know where they were staying.’

‘Uh… if I’ve been to the place before, sure.’

Trunks tried to explain where they were going, and quickly figured out that they’d have to fly. Fortunately it wouldn’t take them to long at high speeds, and they didn’t waste any more time waiting around.

‘So what’s happened to Bulma and Bra? Why are they in danger?’ Goku asked, growing serious.

‘Goten was in pretty bad shape back there, he was barely alive. The same man who attacked him is trying to kill mum and Bra.’

‘So someone did attack Goten huh? It’s strange; I couldn’t even feel another energy signal that would have suggested he was fighting someone. This guy must be pretty tough and pretty stealthy too. Do you have any idea who he is or why he’s doing this?’

‘Not really. All I know is he looks exactly like my dad, but he’s really someone else, someone we’ve never met. Dad’s been gone for weeks and this guy has been impersonating him… and none of us even noticed. Except Goten and my sister.’

‘What?! Trunks, surely you and your mum would have known something was up. Of all the crazy things I’ve seen in my lifetime this has got to be one of the craziest, and that’s really saying something. I don’t understand how any of this could have happened without everyone finding out sooner.’

Trunks felt the lump threatening deep in his throat again. ‘I know… Goten and my sister tried to tell us. We didn’t believe them. It seemed too ridiculous and impossible to be real, but it is Goku. Believe me, it is. This is where you come in, to help me destroy this guy. But not before he tells us where my father is. You’re probably the only one with the ability to do it.’

‘I don’t understand why Goten never told his brother or came to me and let me know what was going on,’ Goku mused, sounding baffled. Trunks’ eyes narrowed in anger at the ignorance of the statement.

‘Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Goten hasn’t been speaking to you for like, months.’

‘Huh? Really? Since when?’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ he spat back, voice thick with sarcasm. ‘I can see how easy it would be for you to miss that.’ He honestly felt like punching Goku, despite the fact he himself hadn’t offered that much more help or support to his supposed best friend in recent months than the older man had. Still, he was angry and wanted to blame someone. Too bad he needed Goku’s help and as a result would have to get over it and be civil.

Goku was silent for a while, probably put off the idea of asking more questions about that particular topic by the sound of Trunks swearing under his breath. His silence didn’t last too long however.

‘I thought it was a little strange that I hadn’t felt your dad’s energy signal in such a long time, but I guess I didn’t give too much thought to it. I figured he was just taking a few weeks off training or something.’

Now that was interesting. Trunks couldn’t remember if he’d noticed that properly or not, but now that Goku mentioned it, it was true. That thing, whatever it was, had never given off an energy signal, had it? ‘Do you think,’ he began, unsure of what to ask Goku. ‘Do you think it’s an android, like Krillin’s wife? I mean it seems weird since the guys who are behind all this are almost definitely from another planet but-‘

‘Stop Trunks. Who’s behind all this? You never said that before,’ Goku questioned.

‘These guys who came looking for my dad ages ago, before the look alike even turned up here. Dad went missing for a while over a month ago, and while he was gone, these two men came to our house pretending they were friends of his and that they were looking for him. It was my sister they spoke to, after they broke into her room. By the time we found out about the break in, they were long gone. I have a feeling they’re old enemies of dad’s. After all who else could they be, considering that they knew who he was?’

‘Old enemies huh? After all this time you’d think people could learn to let go,’ Goku said regretfully.

‘And for the record, I don’t think they’re good people in any way, shape or form. This man, or whatever he is, this thing that they let loose on my family is horrible. I don’t think he’s that much more powerful than my father but he’s- fuck, I don’t even wanna talk about it, let’s just find him and kill him, then nobody else will have to die.’

‘Has somebody died? You need to tell me-‘

Trunks span around so rapidly that it startled his companion. ‘I DON’T WANNA TALK ABOUT IT; I JUST WANT YOU TO HELP ME!’ He shouted lividly, then clenched and unclenched his fists, as though to try and calm down. ‘Just help me, please.’

Goku stared back at him in shock but remained silent this time, not wanting to further incite the rage and anxiety he could feel emanating from the young man in waves. They continued their flight in silence, not realizing just how much time was of the essence.

***

(Vegeta’s POV)

'Goten, I can't figure out how to get us off this funny farm and back to earth with you yabbering in my ear.'

'K. Vegeta?'

'Now what?'

'You don't... you don't regret what we did, do you?' he mumbles. I glance at him sideways, knowing instantly what he's referring to. Seems like the questions are starting much sooner than I'd hoped. I draw a deep breath and exhale, wondering how the fuck I'm supposed to answer that when all the light around us goes out.

‘Damn it all to hell,’ I whisper. ‘I think it’s starting. It would mean a great deal to me if you’d just get the hell out of here boy. You might not get another chance, so don’t be a fool. If I’ve survived here this long alone, I can surely go on a little longer. Not as if I haven’t done it before.’

‘You’re just changing the subject,’ he looks me in the eye, smiling. Even at a time like this, he’s smiling. I sigh heavily, running through possible ways I could force him leave to in my mind. None of them seem plausible. He’s considerably weakened, but so am I, and he knows a lot of my tricks. I can sense that he’s on his guard, and won’t let me knock him out or anything like that.

‘What would you know?’ I reply to his accusation with a question.

‘I know enough.’

‘That’s what they all say when they’re your age. And I don’t.’

‘Don’t what?’

‘Don’t regret. I’ve never regretted anything before, and don’t really think I can. Therefore, whether I regret it or not has got no bearing on whether it’s wrong or right.’

‘Why would it be wrong?’ he says, sounding hurt. ‘You always say humans are stupid for saying so many things are wrong. You never even cared about wrong or right.’

I hold up my hand, hoping to silence him. ‘If not for the state of mind you were in, you would never have wanted anything like that to happen-'

'How come everyone tells me what I want all the time?' he questions accusingly, half angry and half sulking.

'I know you don’t regret it now, but sometimes things like this come back to you after a lot of time has passed. Then you suddenly understand what happened and it starts to, I don't know, to hurt. If there’s anything I should know, it’s that. Not to mention that I’m meant to be the older one here. Just don't forget that this wasn't your fault, it was mine. I'm responsible for…’ I trail off, feeling drained and thinking of what I should know by now after all these years, about weakness and vulnerability, about being young and ignorant.

‘Do you really think it will start to hurt one day, like these things?’ he says gently, and I feel his hand brush over the wound in my stomach, the other major wounds on my body too. Even though its dark and he cannot see with his eyes, he must recall where they all are from when I was naked. I didn’t think he’d notice.

‘The doctor said you were stuck in memories because those guys who put you down here wanted to steal information from them. Is that where the injuries all came from?’

‘You kids, always with the god damned questions,’ I reply, brushing his hands away. ‘It’s all in the past now, it doesn’t matter anymore.’

‘But we’re in the past,’ he looks around us at the walls, slowly emerging from the darkness and morphing into steel.

‘There isn’t much time. If you won’t leave now, then at least promise me that you’ll try to again, if things get too hopeless here.’

‘OK. Don’t worry though, it won’t get to that. Fuck, what’s going to happen when you wake up?’

‘I don’t know. That’s the thing with this place. It’s as if they find the memories somehow and push them like buttons to turn them on. It could be anything. It’s extremely unpredictable, apart from the fact that it’s always something unpleasant. Listen, I hate to ask you this, but don’t… don’t tell anyone about what we did, please. It would be… a bit difficult to explain.’ The words taste like bile on my tongue. I do hate to ask him that; it makes me feel just like someone I once knew, covering my tracks the exact same way.

‘Who knows exactly what’s real anymore?’ Goten somehow finds my hand in the gradually receding shadows, squeezing it in a gesture that humans seem to find comforting. ‘It probably never happened. No use telling people about something I might have dreamt up.’ He laughs light heartedly.

‘Thank you. I’m sorry, Goten. I don’t usually say that and even when I do I don’t mean it, but it’s different this time,’ I murmur, my voice sounding as if it’s far off and underwater. The feeling of falling overcomes everything as Goten’s fingers slip away and the blackness dissolves further into that sickeningly familiar place. Home sweet home. Funnily enough, I’m sitting on the couch in front of the TV again in the small, empty rec room. I wonder what information it is that my captors could possibly want from me, and whether it could endanger anyone as I think back to snatches of what Lennon had said in the cave before sending me back into the past.

“You're going to regret speaking out against us, if you aren't already… you've entered into an agreement to help slander our name… You've let us down rather badly... Now we're going to remove the tubes from your throat and give you one chance to speak for yourself, to admit how much you really know about us. I repeat, this is your only chance…”

That must have been a lie. The only thing I knew about them was the fact that they conducted experiments on me as a child, something I had no memory of until now anyway. They could easily have destroyed my (mostly buried) knowledge of that with their mind control devices, thus it was no threat to them. What's this thing Goten and the doctor believe Lennon wants to steal from my memories? Some secret he doesn’t know obviously, but what? It could be something to do with Frieza, or with power, or with some planet or people I discovered or destroyed. It could be anything. How the hell can he find something lost in my head that I myself am not even aware of, among all the billions of other thoughts and the memories? Why even try? He must be completely mad, madder than doctor Gero was perhaps. I stare down at my hands, wondering why nothing's happening yet, and how I’m still able to think so clearly. Perhaps I’m becoming tolerant to Lennon’s manipulation techniques. Think… I have to focus on continuing to think my own thoughts.

I get up, feeling compelled to walk. Seems I'm still physically under control, as I unwillingly head towards the cramped little closet that was my room. But it doesn't really matter now. Whatever the memory may be won’t shock me, not anymore. If I could live through my youth once I can do so once more. My only hope is that eventually someone will be able kill that thing that looks like me or return it to this place so that everyone else will be safe. If my family is safe, then whether or not I get out of here is of no consequence. Nothing else but that matters anymore, although I do hope Goten will leave and try to find his way out rather than stay close to here. I can feel his presence, floating invisibly all around me, and I’d much prefer to do this alone. That’s the way it’s always been.

Instead of continuing down the corridor towards the bedrooms, I turn into the infirmary, which is puzzling. I nod at my doctor, who’s standing there by the medicine cabinet, rummaging around in there and looking somewhat guilty as he crosses the short distance between us. He hands me a cup and two white pills.

‘There you go sir. Sorry to have to make you take those, but we can’t get around our orders from the high-ups can we?’ he says apologetically, patting my shoulder slowly. ‘Now you make sure to let me know how the side effects are going alright?’

I just nod dumbly and take the pills. The only memory I have of these things is a very vague, echoing sense of resignation. Other than that, nothing. They’re just another one of the things I can’t recall, lost somewhere within the large chunks of my memory, my life, that mysteriously vanished during my youth. Why would they make me take prescription medicine? I’d had antibiotics for various weird infections I’d picked up from foreign planets, but these definitely aren’t that, otherwise he wouldn’t be apologizing for making me take them. I’d also taken all kinds of illicit drugs by the time I was 15 or 16, which is the age I seem to be at the moment. There were the things I took to stay awake for days on end during missions, drugs which I had no idea of what they were and just took because someone asked or ordered me to do so. Then there we took because the others wanted to have fun and be free from boredom for a while, and if others were doing it I was expected to join in. They seemed to think it was funny to see the effects of certain things on me, given that I was younger and smaller.

But this is different, there’s something serious about it. It would be preferable to spit them out, but at least I can monitor the effects being that I have reasonable control over my thoughts. Hopefully the pills aren’t significantly mind altering. Sometime later, the bare steel walls of my quarters stare back at me, glinting in the fluorescent light. I feel so drowsy and heavy. The bathroom door opens and I slowly turn my head to see Jeice standing there with a towel around his waist. Surprise surprise. Normally it would have frightened me, a door opening suddenly like that. It always had ever since I was younger, but it suddenly feels like there’s some kind of dense cloud in my head shrouding out all the fearful reflexes, worries and the cares.

‘Well don’t get too excited to see me!’ he exclaims, somewhat jokingly. ‘I only been away three months.’

‘…hey.’

‘Always the talkative one aren’t you?’ he walks over and lies down beside me on his bunk, staring intently as though he’s examining my eyes. ‘You’re still on them pills aren’t ya?’

I nod and open my mouth, then close it again, forgetting what I was going to say before even starting.

‘Well I told you didn’t I? Told you not to go pissing everyone off but you never listen. Why don’t you just spit em out or throw em up afterwards or something?’

‘I tried. It didn’t work. They found out.’

He sighs and rolls his eyes at me. ‘It’s just as well they don’t keep you around for your brains. So what’s been happening around here then? I suppose you haven’t paid any attention.’

‘Frieza’s not here. Won’t be back for another 3 weeks. Not much else has happened.’

‘Three weeks, sweet. That means we can have some fun.’ He goes back into the bathroom and returns with a bottle of spirits, handing it to me. ‘C’mon, let’s celebrate.’

‘I think, because of the tablets, I’m not supposed-‘

‘For fuck’s sake, stop being a pussy and just drink!’ his voice has that tone to it, the one that suggests I shouldn’t argue with him, so I don’t bother and take the bottle.

‘Anyway, the planet we just did was the most boring fucking shit heap ever, it took ages to get there and then it was full of these giant lizard things, they were *gross*…’ he goes on for ages about the shitty time he had, exaggerating in his usual fashion and steadily getting drunker, not that I’m really listening. It’s strange, but his presence feels comforting for some reason, like I don’t want to be left alone with this empty feeling or I don’t know what I’ll do. I feel quite sick although I haven’t drank that much. I just pretend to drink from the bottle when he keeps handing it to me, hoping he won’t notice.

‘Can’t wait for tomorrow, gunna go to Home Station One. I need to do something interesting, I’m going bananas. Haven’t had a root in ages either. Have you even left here since I went away?’

‘Had one assignment at the start, went for about 2 weeks. Other than that, I’ve not been allowed out.’

‘Fuck that. C’mon, drink more.’

‘I can’t… feel like throwing up already,’ I groan.

‘Oh whatever. Doesn’t it drive you insane being cooped up that long? Aren’t you really horny by now?’

‘I’m really queasy,’ I grumble. He just laughs and pulls me closer, rolling over to rest on top of me. The pressure doesn’t help my stomach much.

‘Aww, don’t be shy V. I can fix it for you.’

To my horror, I realise I'm just letting him do what he wants- no struggle, no protest, nothing. This is worse than the other memories of when it first started, because at least I tried to fight back then instead of lying there like a god damned doll. There’s no one to blame for this other than myself. How pathetic. Everything feels gray and lifeless, as if all the colour and energy are being sucked out of the atmosphere, leaving nothing to feel or hear or see other than the ceiling. Lots of images flood my mind, of memories like this, the same humiliating thing going on and on for years, nothing ever changing. Days and nights rolling in and out, rolling into one, going backwards as often as forwards so that in the end the result is nowhere, fading into nothing. Nothing changes.

Suddenly I’m jolted from my stupor by Jeice taking my face in his hands and shaking a little.

‘We gotta get you off that shit, you’re like the dead. I know what'll wake you up.’ He grins coldly, voice acquiring that edge again. He hates it when I openly ignore him; it usually results in punishment. I don’t even have the energy to be nervous, until I feel something cold and hard running up my bare thigh. I have a feeling it’s a weapon, a gun of some kind. Before I can react he rams the barrel up my insides and a nauseating wave of pain ensues.

‘Fuck!’ I cry out, covering my mouth to stop any other sound escaping, while he starts to laugh hysterically.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to get your attention, hahaha. Don’t try and pretend you don’t like it.’ His fingers leave the gun where it is and move upwards to curl around my sudden hardness, rubbing the head, teasing. I blink back tears, feeling the rage trying to break through the fog in my mind. He knows exactly what this does to me, with my cursed reactions to intense pain. There’s nothing about me that he doesn’t know. I hate him so much.

‘Now what do you say?’ he questions mockingly, lips pressed against my jaw just below the ear as he speaks, rubbing with one hand and jerking the gun around roughly inside me with the other. It really hurts. I bite my hand, trying not to show any reaction and willing myself to say nothing, but of course it’s still not possible to control my physical actions.

‘Sorry… sorry for not paying attention,’ I gasp.

‘Sorry…?’

‘Sorry sir.’

‘Good boy,’ he murmurs, patting my head like a dog. ‘And what do you want?’

‘Don’t-’

‘What do you want?’

Though I’m basically resigned to giving up, I try uselessly to pull away from him. ‘Don’t.’

‘Don’t what?’ his fingers move slower, agonizingly slow. Looking away, I squeeze my eyes shut. The sooner I say what he wants to hear, the sooner it will be over.

‘Don’t stop…’

‘That’s more like it,’ he whispers, hands beginning to work faster again. Pleasure swells gradually, throbbing and slowly dulling the pain as it grows. It feels disgusting, but I can’t resist it. He shoves his tongue into my mouth as I start to come, swallowing any sounds I might make. Shortly afterwards he yanks the gun out of me and tosses it aside, ordering me to face the wall and get on my knees. The rest is a blur and comes to an end relatively quickly, and while the original idea was to focus on thinking my own thoughts rather than getting lost in all this again, it's becoming impossible. I’m not aware of him crawling back into his own bed, not aware of my thoughts, nor the dull ache of all my wounds, inside and out. Some time passes before I pick up the half empty bottle of liquor and hobble into the bathroom to sit on the icy tiles. For some reason I'm flushed and sweating, so I want the cold.

The bottle is raised to my lips as if by another's hand. Why would I be drinking if it will just make me sick? Foolish. The idea that this life could be tolerated just because I tolerated it once before was wishful thinking. My understanding of it, now so different than it was, has made me weaker. Don't think I can do this anymore. If only Jeice wasn't asleep… still don't feel like being alone with this empty feeling. You'd think after everything I'd hate him and want to be rid of him. I'm always silently thinking it, but I don't. Never have. He is, was, one of the only friends I ever had, even if he was a terrible one. Stupid juvenile thoughts from years ago keep running through my head, getting harder and harder to interpret with every second, reverberating and repeating insensibly.

I have to keep drinking till I can't feel anything anymore. Remember to pinch myself every five minutes to check. It's going to be so funny, the looks on their faces. I'll make them all sorry. If only I could see their expressions when they see. Have to try not to throw up or I won't be numb enough. Now, *now* I can't feel my skin anymore. Wonder where his razor is...

After a while I notice an unusual sound. Laughter. Why am I staring into the mirror and laughing at myself? None of this is funny. More importantly, why the fuck would I need a razor? Somehow the blade ends up in my hand, although the intoxication has made it so I can barely coordinate movement anymore. The true significance of this memory is now becoming clear through the murkiness caused by a combination of pills, alcohol, and jumbled up emotions. However, I refuse to believe that I would even consider something like this. There's no way it could ever have happened. It's a trick and I'm starting to get lost in it. Can't hang onto any current, rational thoughts anymore.

Looking down at my wrists now and seeing double, so there's four of them. They're so skinny. I laugh some more, poking at them with the point of the razor and mostly missing due to the double vision. A few little nicks, some blood, more laughing. Eventually the blade settles at the base of my left wrist. I cut about a centimeter deep into it and drag it downwards, not stopping until there's a 3 inch long cut. Don't feel a thing. Blood spurts out of the wound like a waterfall, flowing at an alarming rate. It's filling the sink. Has to be the funniest thing I've ever seen.

Wait a minute, no it isn't. Now starting to think that I didn't think this through very well. Too drugged up and drunk to think, but the sight of the blood seems to have sobered me up and opened my eyes. Now I'm actually seeing, and there's no more laughter. Did this really happen? There's always been a scar running up my arm, but didn't I get that during a battle on a mission? Or was that just what I told people, and after a few months of lying, began to believe my own lie? That was when I started wearing gloves all the time, to stop people asking questions, and to help myself forget. It worked. Perhaps I really was crazy... no, not perhaps, there's no doubt about it. If you slice open your own arm and find the ensuing major blood loss hysterically funny, come close to death from the wound, then proceed to forget the whole incident, you're out of your fucking mind.

The room is starting to spin and the air keeps going in and out of my throat with every breath, but it's like breathing in powder. The blood that usually holds the oxygen is rapidly escaping, leaving me gasping and choking, wheezing heavily. I want to yell at my idiot teenage self to call somebody, to leave the bathroom and get Jeice, anything but fucking standing there watching himself bleed to death. Of course I can't, can't do anything. Why can't I affect the memory with my thoughts? Lennon must know, and is stopping me somehow. If this memory changes to something else before anyone's had a chance to get me to a doctor and stop the bleeding, I'm going to die. Perhaps that's how Lennon intends to kill me, by my own hand. Kind of ironic, isn't it?

My face feels cold and wet with tears. As if crying's going to help the situation. All I can hear and see and feel is terror. Complete terror, flashing through my brain like a huge neon red sign. The thoughts from the memory sound identical to a stuck record now. Don't want to die, I don't want to die. I want it to stop but I don't want to die, just want them to let me go free or at least leave me alone with no more pills, no more orders, and no more humiliation. But I don’t want to die... A few minutes pass by, filled with these wildly panicked pleas to no one. The minutes feel more like hours because of how slow everything's going and how scared I am, until finally dizziness overpowers me and I fall backwards, hitting my head against the wall. There's hardly room to fall over in here. Footsteps pound heavily through my ears, thump, thump. Someone's got a hold of me by the shoulders, shaking so roughly it feels like I'll get shaken out of my skin. My eyelids crack open ever so slightly and there's a blurry image of Jeice above me, his lips moving frantically. Straining to make out what he's saying but it does mostly make sense.

'How could you do it, how could you you fucking idiot...! Come on V, say something, just say or do something, I know you're not dead... you can't be dead kid, just wake up! Please...'

He keeps repeating the same things over and over. How could you do it, how could you fucking do it, he says again and again. There are more footsteps now, and voices everywhere, but I feel heavier and heavier, more out of breath with every second, and it’s hard to stay conscious. It feels like the blackness all around is trying to choke me. Resist, I have to resist. For once I don't want the nothingness, don't want the peace. One of the few things I remember from when I was 15 or so was that I used to have this recurring dream of being back home, and my father and everyone else I knew was there. There was this feeling of a smile stretching my face, such a weird, unfamiliar sensation. Despite how happy I looked, every time my father would put his hand on my shoulder and tell me he was sorry, that I didn't know how sorry he was. When I looked confused and asked him what he was sorry for, he'd just sigh and hang his head. Then I'd wake up with tears in my eyes.

Each time it was harder, more painful to wake. Of all my dreams only that one could bring tears. Nothing could ever equal the feeling of believing without a doubt that you're home at last, only to wake and be returned to this lifeless, suffocating place where others are forever threatening you with their words and their hollow, glazed over stares. There are no men behind the eyes of the soldiers here; their spirits are disembodied, floating in limbo. They have lost their minds, as have I. We may have different faces but all of us are the same- mindless machines, identical turning wheels in the clockwork of destruction.

Despite this, death is hardly freedom from this reality. Before I was thinking how this memory must be a trick, because I’d never try to commit suicide, but that was a lie wasn’t it? That’s exactly what I was trying to do when Goten stopped me earlier, and during the battle against Buu. Maybe even in my reckless, poorly thought out attack on Frieza back on Namek years ago. Never once has it been the right solution to any problem, and yet I keep resorting to the same pointless tactic every time the situation looks too hopeless. How could I be so utterly foolish? I should go on fighting till the very last breath and reclaim my honour, like a true saiyan. My only chance of surviving now is if Lennon doesn't actually want me dead, but even if he does, I might be able to influence my circumstances with my thoughts. Already I've been able to overcome some of the mental control, but how to override the physical? Unconsciousness beckons, threatening to drag me down, possibly to my death. I have to think fast.

***

Came the last night of sadness, and it was clear she couldn't go on

Then the door was open and the wind appeared

The candles blew and then disappeared

The curtains flew then he appeared...saying don't be afraid

and she had no fear... And she ran to him...then they started to fly

They looked backward and said goodby

she had become like they are...She had taken his hand

Come on baby...don't fear the reaper

***

NEXT CHAPTER: Trunks and Goku arrive and the race to find Bulma and Bra begins, but some unforeseen obstacles (and enemies) stand in their way. Vegeta is now unsure of whether his physical body is dead or still alive, but despite struggling to remain sane, he resolves not to go down without a fight. Goten refuses to heed the doctor's warnings, not wanting to leave Vegeta alone.

Please let me know what you thought of the chapter guys :)
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Hope Leaves