Eighteen heard the door close. She felt a strange feeling rise in her chest. Respect? Appreciation? Maybe even resentment? She shook her head; it didn't matter what she felt. She had a place to stay, and was all she could focus on at this point in time.
She slipped her black shoes off and took a seat on the bed, heaving a heavy sigh, her shoulders noticeable moving up and then down. While she may have been given such power to not easily grow tired, this didn't mean she wasn't a stranger to exhaustion or other humanly characteristics. And now, as she rubbed her hands over the comforter of the bed, she could feel a wave of exhaustion come over her. She pulled it back, crawled underneath, and let her head rest on the pillow.
Her blue eyes stared at the bumps in the ceiling a. She could feel, inch by inch, her muscles begin to relax, first starting in her shoulders and making their way down to her feet. Such relaxation felt so foreign and new to her, as was someone who took the time to make sure she was content to her heart's delight.
"Is this what it is like to feel no grief," she whispered to herself. She could observe her feelings, or whatever it was that was beginning to bubble in her mind, later. She closed her eyes, and fell asleep.
Krillin grabbed a glass from one of the cabinets in the kitchen and filled it up with water from the sink. He took a sip. He couldn't believe Eighteen had randomly appeared before his house. It exhilarated him, but also baffled him. It'd only been two years since Cell had been defeated. His mind was conjuring up so many questions to ask her: What have you been doing? Did you find your brother? Where are you living? Is there any chance between us, or…?
Krillin nearly choked on his water as the last question passed through his mind. He coughed to regain his composure, involuntary tears swelling in his eyes. Even the mere thought of something happening between him and Eighteen caught him off guard, and here he was, doing the most mundane thing.
'Krillin, you fool. As if she would have any string of feelings for you.' He finished the rest of his water, and placed the glass in the sink. With Eighteen presumably sleeping in her room, he had some down time to kill until she'd make herself known again. Maybe now was the perfect time to begin training again? He quietly walked up the stairs to go change into his training gear.
All I remember was the pitch dark room, and no matter how many times I closed and opened my eyes, it remained the same, the darkness. I hurt all over. My head could be splitting in two, my heart could be getting ripped from chest, it made no difference. My body ached and ached, and saltiness swept over my tongue. Was I crying? I tried to move my arms to see, but I couldn't move. I was bound by a snake-like restraint that ran over my chest and my legs. Even my hands had been restrained. God dammit.
Suddenly a light flickered on and off above me, momentarily blinding me, stars appearing every time I blinked. It finally stayed on, and I twisted my head to keep from staring into it.
"Hello? Is someone there?" Nothing.
I wiggled my body, my breaths becoming short and desperate. If only I could get my wrists free. I heard a movement, but where it came from was uknown. I instantly became still.
"You know, you put up quite a fight for such a petite woman. I am impressed," came a raspy voice. My eyes darted around with what limited visual perception I had to find the source of the voice, but still, the room remained mostly dark. Maybe I could bargain with this stranger. I swallowed.
"Please let me go. Why are you doing this?" I clinched my hands into fists.
"You're so young...you're capable of so much more than what people give you credit for, do you realize that," came the voice again, "If only you'd let me help you. I suppose at this point, you have no say." He chuckled wholeheartedly. I could taste the saltiness again, and then the black cloud swept over me once more.
"Eighteen…"
Eighteen awoke violently, sitting straight up. Some strands of hair were glued to her forehead, seeping in the moisture of her sweat. Her chest expanded rapidly, her breathing audible to the naked ear if anyone were nearby. She looked down at her hands; they were clinching the comforter. Her breathing began to even out, and she finally relaxed her hands, her fingers stretching in and out, long and thin. Just like her hair, her simple black shirt was clinging to her figure. She felt disgusting.
She got up from the bed, and stretched her back, lifting her arms above her head as if she could touch the ceiling. Wanting to get out of her damp clothes, she headed for the bathroom to take a shower.
"Capable…," she trailed off as she twisted the knobs in the shower. She peeled her clothes off and stepped underneath the running water, streaks and streaks of it trailing her pale skin. She closed her eyes, and enjoyed the moment of solitude.
"What exactly did you think I was capable of, Gero?"