Adolescence

1: Gimme a break!

She called him an asshole.

He called her a bitch.

She called him a piece of shit.

He called her a good-for-nothing whore.

With a sigh, Trunks ran a hand through his purple hair. They were at it again, his parents. He didn't understand either of them. They were always fighting about some thing or another. He had no idea what it was about this time and he did not care to know. He just wished they would stop already! He was having a hard time focussing on his schoolwork and he had a history test due tomorrow. Could they not for one day give him some peace and quiet?

A door slammed. In the room next to his the sound of a baby wailing started up. Great. Now they had woken Bra with their bickering and sniping and throwing stuff. He heard stomping footsteps on the stairs and recognised them as his mother's. A few moments later he heard the door to the baby room creak and his mother walking in while making shushing noises.

"Oh, poor little girl." He heard his mother say to the child. "Did daddy wake you up again with that horrible temper of his?"

Trunk gritted his teeth. It had not been his father who had woken the child, it had been his mother's door-slamming that had woken her.

"Come here, mommy's gonna make it alright." He could hear her starting to pace the room next door, most likely carrying the still-wailing child in an effort to calm her. Damn her! She always talked like that, like his dad was the big bad man and like she was the good Samaritan who would make everything alright. She did it to him and he had believed it for years, mainly because his father seldom bothered to correct her. But he knew better now. When two people fought, two people were to blame! How long would it be until his baby sister would find that out for herself, he wondered.

A weird snap brought Trunks back to the situation in his own room. When he looked down at his hands he saw that he had snapped the pencil he'd been using in half. Fuck the test, he couldn't concentrate anyway! He angrily dropped the two halves of the pencil and walked over to the window. It was getting dark outside. He was not allowed to go out on school nights, especially not without permission, but he was almost fourteen and he could take care of himself. Besides, his father had flown off minutes ago and would not notice him leaving.

Trunks opened the window and without a second thought he jumped out and flew off into the darkness. He was going to get into a whole damn lot of trouble if they found out he was gone, but right now he didn't care. He had to get away from that woman who was trying to make his sister believe she was the angel and the father was the devil. He had to get away from the house that always held so much tension from their constant fights. He had to get away.

-.-

So what now?

He was miles away from his parents' house in the middle of nowhere and was at a loss for what to do. He had enjoyed the silence for a few minutes, but now it was starting to feel weird. He was not used to being alone. Even though they lived in a big house, there was always someone around, either one of his parents or a nanny when his mother was working and his father was off doing Dende knew what.

He'd asked what his father did when he was gone once. "That's non of your damned business, brat." He'd spat.

Brat.

Even though he was almost a man his father still humiliated him by calling him 'brat'. If he said it with affection, Trunks might not have minded to much, but the word was never said like that. His father only ever spoke the word as if he was speaking to something that wasn't even really worth his attention.

And if his mother heard the man speak like that, they'd get into another fight.

Trunks shook his head. He did not want to think of the situation back at home. He needed something to take his mind off his parents' behaviour. He'd go into the city. If he hid his energy there, his father should not be able to sense it, not with all those people around. Not unless he was specifically looking for him there.

Thursday night. The stores were open tonight. They would be for another fourty minutes or so. That was good. Trunks landed in some alley and quietly walked out into the main street. He buried his hands in his pockets. Damn. He'd forgotten to bring money. Now all he could do was roam around here, looking stuff, unable to buy himself so much as a drink. With a sigh, he began walking with the flow, checking out the goods in the store.

They were displaying an image of a new game computer that would be coming out next week. 'Pre-order now!' the sign read. Trunks would have that thing the day before it would actually come out. He'd let it slip to his mother that he was interested in the console and she'd ordered it for him that same night, after he'd walked in on a fight between her and him.

That was how things usually went. He could get whatever he wanted if he mentioned it at the right time and that was a technique he had perfected and exploited for years. But the one thing he really wanted he knew he would never get. His mom and dad would never be getting along like a normal couple. Even Goten's parents didn't fight half as much as his parents did. That was why he always liked going over to Goten's house. Even if there was a fight, which he witnessed only once in a blue moon, it was mainly one-sided and quickly resolved as Goku tended to give in rather easily. If only either of his parents had that quality.

Great, now he was still thinking of his parents. He wanted to be distracted, that was why he had come here. So, what now? He would just enter the first store on his right and take it from there. He may not have money, but it didn't cost anything to just look.

He decided to make it the second store, as the first store sold baby stuff. That only reminded him of his sister, which was sure to remind him of his parents. Honestly, why had they made another baby? The second store was a clothing store. He had not had much interest in clothing before. His mother had bought whatever she wanted him to wear and he'd been fine with it until recently. Lately his mom was picking out stuff he didn't always like too much and he wanted to start choosing his own clothes.

He would be going to high school soon and the kids in his class were talking about clothing money they were getting from their parents so they could buy their own clothes. He was thinking about asking his parents for that. If he did so at the right time, when his mother was feeling guilty again, he was sure he would get whatever amount he asked for. But what should he ask? What did clothes cost, really?

He headed to the teenager section and started rummaging through the racks. There were few kids his age, he noticed. Most were a couple of years older. Ignoring that fact, he started looking at pants and shirts and their price tags.

He made some simple calculations in his head. He couldn't go with the cheap stuff of course. The kids at school would definitely make fun of him if he wore the simple pants and shirts. They knew his parents were rich and they expected him to come to school in better jeans than just the average stuff. He had no desire to let himself fall victim to the bullies, especially not since he could not even give them a satisfying punch without getting them killed.

Would two hundred be enough? For pants and shirts it would be, but what about the rest? He would also need shoes, socks, jackets and accessories. And he wanted a cell-phone. Every kid in his class seemed to have one. That jerk Billy even had two –one for his parents to call him on which he usually turned off and one he used for his friends. Trunks had never had pocket money to buy such things. His mother had always bought him everything he wanted.

All of that considered he did not think two hundred would be enough. More like two-fifty or perhaps three hundred. Jackets and shoes did not need much replacing unless he started growing already, but they were more expensive than pants and shirts. Three hundred would have to do.

"Dear customers!" Trunks jumped at the sudden voice sounding over the intercom. "It is near closing time. Please proceed to the counters to make your purchases."

That time already? Trunks looked at his watch. Yes, it was already half an hour past his bedtime. He didn't think his parents would notice, though. When his father flew off he could be gone for hours at a time and his mother was usually too busy with her daughter or herself to check up on him. Still, he had that test tomorrow and he should get home before his father did. If he sensed him flying back, there would be hell to pay an the last thing he wanted was to see that man right now.

He made it out of the store and headed into an ally that looked dark and lonely enough that he could fly up from there. Unfortunately, when he entered far enough he saw there was a woman wrapped in rags, watching him come closer. He was about to step back to find another alley when she spoke in a cracked voice. "Now wait up, dear. What's the hurry?"

He turned back to her and gave her a good look. His eyes could make out the worn features on her dirty face easily once he allowed some light from the streets to flow past him, illuminating her. He could see she missed a few teeth and her smile was all wrong. Her hair looked like it had not been washed in weeks and she smelled like that as well.

"Come, come, a handsome young man like you all alone in these parts?" The woman stepped closer. Trunks raised an eyebrow, but he was sure it was too dark for the woman to see. "Come here, boy. I'll guide you to safer parts." She held out a hand.

Trunks scowled at her. "Go away" He said roughly, not in the mood to deal with some stupid, pathetic lowlife right now.

"Now now, that's not very polite." The woman was still advancing on him.

Trunks growled. "Stay away from me, woman." He hissed as he turned around. But just as he started back to the streets, her hand grabbed his shirt and pulled held him back. "Fuck you!" He sneered as he turned around to knock her hand away, but he did not see the knife in her hands quickly enough. He felt how the blade made contact with his skin and instinctively he used his ki to throw her off. Then, without hesitation he took to the air. To hell if she saw him fly. He was inclined to send a blast at her, but that would kill her and that was illegal. So let her watch him fly. Who would believe an old bat like that anyways?

Trunks barely noticed the cut on his arm as he flew as high as he could comfortably without choking from lack of oxygen. He did not wear a jacket, but he did not get cold. He simply adjusted his energy to keep him warm enough. All too soon his house came into view and he lowered himself to the level of his room. His window was still open, waiting for him to fly in. He landed on the window sill and noticed just too late that there was already a presence in his room, waiting for him.