Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Dragonball Z. This is from my own warped mind!
Wishes From the Heart -Chapter 1
Everyone knows that when you make a wish, nothing happens. Nobody becomes skinnier, richer, or instantly famous. They go their whole lives wishing and hoping that what they truly want will fall right into their laps. No amount of reasoning with this person will change the way they think the circumstances should go. So most just sit back and watch these people who delude themselves with fantasy and denial, fall flat on their face. Not one person believes anything they TRULY want will ever come to them. They might secretly hope and pray that that will be the outcome, but the pragmatic in everyone knows the truth. It's never going to happen.
…...But what if it did!?...
Trista believed in miracles. She truly did. But she also believed that you had to work for those miracles, that it wasn't just "going to happen". Nobody ever got something from nothing. That was her motto. Gazing out of the living room window, she watched as the neighbourhood went about their daily lives. Some just leaving for work, others touching up on their landscape. She momentarily closed her eyes. Oh, what I wouldn't give to be somewhere, anywhere else right now. She sighed.
"What are you doing?"
Trista jumped, then whirled around. Her employer stood behind her, glaring through narrowed eyes. She also happened to be her sister. Just great!
"I was just looking out the window. Do you need me for anything?"
She hated working for her sister. Hated it!But ever since their parents died two years ago, and Breanna took over the family Inn, she really didn't have a choice, seeing as how she had no where else to go. Trista gave none of these feelings away, knowing that if Breanna knew what she was thinking, she would throw her out into the street in an instant. And there was nothing she would be able to do about it.
Her sister glared at her for another moment, then pointed towards the dining room.
"Aren't you supposed to be in there, cleaning for my party tonight!"
Trista nodded, choosing not to vocalize an answer. She knew her sister didn't want to listen to her voice; she had made that abundantly clear from the start. They had came to a "truce" when Trista first landed on her doorstep, and she had readily agreed, afraid of the new city and the fact that she didn't have no means to support herself. Which, she now knew, her sister had taken full advantage of. Breanna had made sure she was dependant on her. Not paying her a dime, instead telling her that in order for her to have room and board, she would have to "help" clean. Trista's definition of help and her sisters' varied greatly. Being maid, butler, chimney sweep, cook, and anything else that her sister could think of on a whim, was not just "help." She was practically a slave. She thought of all the things she could have done with her life by now, thinking about the college she never got to go to, since her parents died and didn't leave her anything. The job that she had lined up to start after graduation. Why am I still here? Trista stopped mid-swipe. If I left right now, what would I do? She sat down heavily on the dining room chair. She asked herself again, "What would I do?"
-Later that night-
I can't believe I'm doing this! I have no money, nowhere to go, no job lined up! Trista looked down at her meager belongings. One duffel bag, full of everything she had came here with two years ago. Nothing new, nothing gained in all this time living here with her sister. Breanna had made sure of that. She's a greedy, stingy old bitch! Trista's eyes widened. She let out a short laugh. She had never called her sister any kind of name, but, she surmised, it fit right about now. With a shrug of her shoulder's, she picked up her bag, and disappeared into the night.
-Ten days later-
She was ready to cry. She put her hand to her now constantly growling stomach. Starving! Was the word that came to mind. She desperately searched through her bag, knowing it was fruitless. She had ate the rest of the meager bits of food she smuggled out almost two days ago. Trista put her head in her hands. She really didn't want to admit defeat and crawl back to her sister. She'd rather stay on the street. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. She quickly swiped them away. Gulping back a sob, she stood, ignoring the wave of dizziness that assaulted her. She clumsily grabbed for her bag, finally snatching it up and walking none to steadily down the path through the park. The park was beautiful, with towering, old oaks, and lush plants and grass. But she barely noticed these things as she made her way through. She stared blindly at the ground as she walked. Dimly aware when grass met gravel. She slowed to a stop, slumping onto a bench. Now what was she going to do! She couldn't- no, wouldn't – ask her sister for anything. Breanna would laugh in her face before she gave her one cent. She couldn't get a job because that required an address and phone number, which she had neither. And all the homeless shelters were full. It was hopeless!
She didn't notice the air becoming denser, or the wind changing direction. She didn't notice the lone person watching her.
"Are you okay?"
Trista heard the voice through a long tunnel. She barely registered someone standing in front of her. She finally raised her head up to look at whoever was speaking to her, the task seeming difficult in itself. She noticed the striped dress first. Who in the world would wear something like that! She asked herself, almost blurting the question aloud. It was white with orange stripes going across the whole outfit. Trista almost giggled, the sound dying on her lips when she looked up towards the face. Blue hair! That's it! Trista thought, I'm going crazy! I'm delusional from lack of food and sleep. She blinked, trying to make everything come into focus. As things started coming into focus, Trista started hyperventilating. Where the HELL am I!
"Do you need me to call someone, a doctor maybe?" The imaginary woman was still staring at her.
Great! Now my illusions are talking to me! And they even think I'm crazy!
"WHERE THE HELL AM I! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!" Her breath started coming in short spats. The woman crouched down and grabbed her shoulder's.
"Hey! Get a hold of yourself, and we'll figure something out." The blue haired woman smiled at her.
"WHO ARE YOU?" Trista shrieked, clutching the bench seat. Maybe everything will return to normal if I stood up! She rationalized. She stood up. And almost fainted. Nothing changed! The blue haired woman was still standing in front of her, looking at her as if she had gone crazy. She thought she already had!
"My name's Bulma Briefs, but my friends call me Bulma." The lady smiled, putting her hands on her hips. "And we are in West City."
Trista saw black dots dance before her eyes. She leaned down and rested her hands on her knees. She breathed in and out erratically. "No, No, No..." She softly repeated to herself.
"I must be dreaming. Yeah, that's it. Dreaming! I'm dreaming!" She let out a terrified laugh, almost manical. She suddenly straightened up. I have to be dreaming, that's the only explanation! Trista thoughts kept jumbling, shooting from one thought to another.
"This is a dream! You're a dream right!?" she said almost desperately.
Bulma looked at her with pity, her voice going soft as she slowly shook her head.
"Honey, I'm not an illusion. See?" she said, putting her arm around the frantic girls shoulder's. "Now," she continued, "let's get you back to the house and see if we can figure out what happened."
Trista felt her sanity slipping away, along with good sense, as she stupidly followed the blue haired woman-no "Bulma"- through the city.