Bloated
By: Vaniti
Disclaimer: Dragonball Z © Akira Toriyama
Synopsis: Chi-Chi experiences the fresh reoccurring hurt every single day at the lack of a husband figure. Drabble.
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…
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I'm crying.
Where are you?
Out training, sparring, defending the Earth…
Anywhere you may be, I know this; you are carefree and happy.
Unlike me.
It may be a selfish demand, but I need you now.
Is it so hard?
I know you have priorities. I am not insecure and am respectful of what you have to do. Forget priorities, I understand what you love to do.
But do I not rank at all?
Can't you sense my tears stinging my eyes until they are swollen as if branded by crumbling coals?
You can sense the chi of an enemy from miles away, forget that; from across the planet. But you cannot feel your own wife cry.
I am not egocentric; I ask for nothing in return for all that I do for you. I am not needy, and I do not need to be loved.
But I do need to be acknowledged by you every once in awhile.
If you are so good, why can you not feel or understand my heartbreak?
I bite back a violent and shameful sob as I clutch the navy comforter closer to my face; to dab away the wetness that blinds me.
I have to understand it is because you do not feel it, too.
You could not possibly understand the rawness of a heart if you do not love back.
I am not a child, I am not a naïve woman any longer.
Your treatment has smartened me until I tell myself I do not long for a man anymore; a man is an accessory I tell myself; an add-on. You do not need a man. You do not need a man to burden you. You especially do not need a man you cook, clean, love, and give a child to.
So why am I curled in cold sheets, and weeping like my only child does, after he has a chilling nightmare?
I am not this weak.
I am intelligent and capable and strong.
How is it feasible, possible, that one person has such a noose-like control around my neck?
I can't fathom it, I can't, I cannot.
I do not really drink, but now I want a glass or two of wine. Forget the wine, I crave for something stronger.
No, no I do not. Then the delusional and lucid nightmares will really come.
In a hazy fog I stumble to my feet, get up, get up. I somehow find my way to the picture-covered refrigerator. Oh, Gohan. Gohan drew another family picture with his deluxe set of Crayola crayons again today. Does he not realize he barely has a family to hold his hands with?
Forget that, more disappointing thoughts.
My taste buds spring to encouraging life as I scan the contents before me. Tempting and appealing but no, I do not want food tonight. Filling my belly will not fill the prominent void gaping in my empty chest.
With will power I do not wander over to the liquor cabinet, whose contents are primarily gifts from our wedding day. I want a drink but I do not want the stale, dry cotton ball lodged in my throat the next day. Or the bleary-eyed guilt.
Quietly I crawl back into bed once more.
The tears are lodged in my eyes but they do not swell and fall any longer. Instead they embed themselves and poke the whites of my eyes with a crimson pastel.
My lids are so inflamed I can barely blink without wincing.
I try to sleep but the routinely blanket will not cover me.
Where are you.
Written from Chi-Chi's point of view; this is not an attempt to bash Goku. I took creative liberty to get inside her head and write what she might feel on her worst days during Goku's long absences or regarding his fly-by-night disposition. 600 word drabble. Comments, questions, reviews are most welcome; Thank you for reading!
~Vaniti