The Sorrow Of Love:
Everything can go so wrong
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Chapter Five-
Home
As She landed her programming almost overwhelmed her. All these living, normal people. Perfect Homes. She felt the need to destroy. Her face screwed up in concentration and then in pain as her knees buckled. Her hands held her head again, and she kept shaking her head from side to side.
Many a passerby noticed this strange behavior with more than idle curiosity. It was a very communal town, even after it's recent expansion. Especially because of the recent attacks. It was very important to remain communal in these hard times. Some ran up to this strange woman, concerned. Where had they seen her before? Why was she strange in this town? Why was she acting so? And most importantly... Was she OK?
The crowded her. Stifling and enclosing the space in which she was fighting herself. In a brief moment of sanity, she looked up and told them to run—far. Then the gleam returned to her eye. She feel to the ground, still holding her head in her hands, occasionally, forcing herself to shake her head, mumbling things like 'get out of my head' or 'no, I won't'. This, of course, made the people crowd her even more.
"Is she insane?"
"Who is she?"
"Why is she here?"
"Is she insane?!"
"D'you think she wants water?"
"Does anybody want to feel her temperature?"
"Tell me if she's insane!!"
"You take her temperature!"
"She just fell from the sky"
"I WANT TO KNOW IF SHE'S INSANE!!"
Everyone looked at the boy who said this, then at the woman and backed up from both of them. The boy looked mortified.
"You can't leave me here! Wait!" He yelled, and he took a step forward. But a hand pulled him from behind.
"It's OK," the mysterious woman said and anticipated the next questions. She reassured them that she was fine, and experienced a large headache. She smiled at him, remembering when she had been a small little girl. She was innocent then. Almost shamed, she walked away.
She automatically assumed a hunched position, where she seemed to close off the rest of the world. Now that she was here, she didn't know what to do. Go to her old house? No, Dr. Gero himself demolished that. No mother, or father. Then her head snapped up. Mother? No. She was most definitely not a mother. She was... a childbearing woman. Eighteen stopped in the middle of the street she was walking, and started thinking. As her eyes glazed over, the crowd of people walked tentatively over to her.
"Maybe we should put her somewhere safe"
"Safe for who?"
"She must've rattled her head when she fell from the sky"
"Maybe we should just give her more water"
"I still think she's insane"
"She said she wasn't"
"Safe for her, of course"
"Right"
"Somebody should still take her temperature"
"I know what to do!"
"She looks like Sara"
"You just want me to break up with Sara"
"I know what to do!!"
"And if I do want you to?"
"Fine, I'll take her temperature"
"NO! I KNOW WHAT TO DO!"
Everyone looked at the boy again, albeit questionably.
"We should be... hospitable. Give the woman her own room. A padded room. For one, so she doesn't get crowded, and maybe her own jacket, with extra long sleeves."
Everyone looked at each other, then again at the boy. Why Not? They wondered, collectively. It seemed proper. And it was safe. Safe for her, of course. They wouldn't dream of putting their own safety first. The all dragged the stiff android, who seemed to deep in thought to notice.
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Trunks got up and looked around. Everything seemed so deathly bare. Everything was so deathly silent.
Death, Death, Death. It was a litany in his head.
He looked at Bulma. 'Why wasn't she caught in The Blast?' He looked around. There seemed to be scorch marks on the ground wherever there was resistance from The Blast. There was a scorch mark not under Bulma, but in front of her. And behind her. There were peculiar marks inside the scorch marks. They were footprints.
Death, Death, Death. It repeated.
He peered at them. Apparently, Seventeen's black gun, as much a symbol of death as the scythe of the Reaper himself, seemed to have landed right behind the second set of footprints. So, Eighteen stopped his mother's vaporization. She probably didn't realize what she was doing. But... Bulma would've seen her, before...
Death, Death, Death. It happens to everyone. It happened to everyone.
Eighteen did it consciously. And went through some trouble to stop Bulma from being obliterated. How did she know? She knew that he was going to change? No, she couldn't have. He didn't even know. She must've suspected an energy blast heading towards them. That's assuming she even cared about Bulma's Death.
Death, Death, Death. The only person he knew of that wasn't dead was Eighteen. And himself, of course, but he died when Gohan did. Bulma's Death buried him.
Her cold hand was gripping something. He hadn't noticed this before. A small box of some sort, with a small antennae. A large red button protruded from it. Trunks look at it, shocked. This must've been the thing Bulma was carrying on about. It might... it would... It would disable the androids! 'Too late he thought. One of them is dead. And the other... I don't know. Probably kill herself.' Without thinking anymore, he decided it couldn't hurt to have it, so he put it in one of his protected pockets.
Death, Death, Death. He had now killed the harbringer of death. Or did he? One more left...
He might as well complete his death, but first. He lifted his arm up, palm facing forward. He blasted the ground ahead of him with enough energy allotted for a hole in the ground, about six feet around, and four feet down. At least, he thought he did. A very small blast was issued from his hand, creating a very small hole. He was confused. What was blocking him?
Death, Death, Death. It grew louder, almost demanding his attention.
His concentration was probably muddled. He pulled his mind to it, his brow wrinkled, covering with glistening sweat and previously dried blood. He felt the pull of his own energy and willed it toward his arm. Something was not quite right. Nevertheless, he continued. He let it accumulate to what he thought would be the right amount. He released again. It was the same effect, but slightly more powerful. Trunks was getting frustrated.
Death, Death, Death. It drove itself to the front of his mind, where it was promptly ignored.
In his anger he fired unconsciously. He expected to see a huge gaping whole in his floor, but all he saw was a hole with the rough proportions of a grave, if maybe a bit smaller. This angered him more, but he kept calm and released his energy by taking many short labored breaths. He carried his mother's limp, cold form and brought it to the hole. He closed her glazed eyes, which were disturbing. They still had the feeling of excitement within them, but the energy was gone, the hope was gone from her eyes. Trunks took this as a very serious omen.
Death, Death, Death. It was insistent. It pushed itself to the forefront of his thoughts.
He buried her and covered the body with the rest of the floor, neatly replacing the broken tile. He took one clean tile from somewhere else and jammed it in the cracks between the front of the disturbed floor. It was a headstone, blank and silent.
Death, Death, Death. It invaded his thoughts. He knew what he was going to do.
He silently went to the large basement of his house, avoiding the cracks and gaps in the stairs. He calmly walked towards the bleak storage area. Out of the cabinet, he pulled out a long knife. He was going to do this. He kneeled down on the ground, holding the large knife over his head. He was about to perform Hari Kiri.
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Eighteen sat in her cell in the asylum, not really minding the current situation. She was too absorbed in her mind to care anyway. She was thinking of her family. Her parents were divorced, but she only remembered that after she remembered how long a court preceding could occur. She apparently hadn't learned how to skip thoughts. That's all she learned before she started to remember why they divorced.
They were running around in the field. What a life it was for a seven-year-old. It was just her brother and her. Holding imaginary races with imaginary crowds and catching very real butterflies. Wrestling many times, trying to get the best of the other twin. Many hours were spent in that field when they both heard a growl in her stomach.
"I guess its dinnertime" He said, his eyes wide.
"I bet we're late. Mom's gonna be mad" She responded, eyes downcast. He nodded solemnly. They didn't like it when mom was mad.
"Let's stay here. Mom's never been here, so we could sneak in when she sleeps. She couldn't find us," He whispered conspiratorially. She looked up amazed.
"Mom's gonna find us. She always does. That's Mom." She said shakily.
"We can hide... when we get home and get up from bed we can act like nothing happened. Dad'll act with us."
"Mom'll think she's going insane! It'll be fun!" She said, changing her disposition.
"Yea!"
They kept on running around the field, but getting hungrier every moment. It was hard to ignore, but they tried. The sky was getting dark, and they didn't know what to do.
"I'm soooo hungry," He said as he stamped his foot on the ground.
"I know, but Mom wouldn't let us eat all if we came home anyway."
"She's probably asleep. It's 10:00. It's past our bedtime! We could sneak something from the kitchen. You know dad falls asleep before then. Maybe Mom will too!"
Her mouth formed a small "o" of wonder. Could it work? "OK! But we have to be," her voice suddenly turned low, "quiet".
They tiptoed their way to their house, even though it was far enough away so that they wouldn't have to tiptoe. They weren't about to take chances with their Mom. They silently opened the well-greased door and looked around. The lights were off. That was good. They silently crept to the kitchen, mirroring each other's movements. Good. No one was there. She opened the fridge and he opened the cabinet. Big mistake. As soon as the cabinet door opened, a clutter of cans fell down on him. He was almost literally buried. His head popped up and looked at her in surprise. She looked at him; clearly hoping it wouldn't be heard. She was terrified. As soon as she turned around to look in the fridge she screamed. There was a large Goblin mask inside. She quickly shut up, realizing her mistake.
"So. You decided to grace us with your presence?" A woman said. The children turned around. They were shocked. They should've known that Mom would be expecting this. Thankfully, another figured appeared. It was dad.
"Oh, hello children. I'm glad you decided to finally come home. I—we were worried." He said, looking at his wife.
"Yes, we were... worried. Dear, you can go sleep now; I'll take care of them. Just hop upstairs. That's right. Now as for you two..." The children looked at each other as Mom said this. They needed dad to... protect them.
"WHY were you out?"
"We were just playing... we didn't know the time"
"We fell asleep, we weren't hungry"
Their answers overlapped. They looked at their mother in horror. Another bad mistake. "So, you were playing, asleep, full, and without a watch? I find that hard to believe. Boy, let me look at your arm!"
He tried to stuff his watch up his sleeve, but to no avail. His mother roughly grabbed the offending arm and lifted him up by the appendage.
"I see this. This is your watch. It's still glowing. You JUST checked the time. You knew it was there. Were you perhaps... avoiding me? I hope I'm not right about THAT." She hissed acidly, with a touch of sarcasm in her voice.
They both looked at her with fear. Why didn't she like them? What was wrong?
She threw him down on the floor, bruising him. She picked the girl up by her neck holding it above her head.
"And you! Asleep? I know what your hair looks like after you sleep! It's still in the spray!" She bitingly said. Suddenly a voice was heard.
"Honey? Do you know where that... Oh my god... what are you doing! Honey... they're our kids, how could you! It's... STOP!" Her husband yelled. The father of the children was shocked. This was going on for seven years? How could he not know?
She raised her hand. It was a little known fact that this housewife was actually a 3rd degree black belt who gave up on her apprenticeship after meeting her husband. He didn't even know. She bore down on him, hand held high above her head, and with a murderous look on her face. The husband himself had a look of pure terror, but also one of defiance. Her hand connected with his face and his glasses fell off, lying broken on the floor. He couldn't stand what he just saw. That would explain why his son always had a bloody lip, or his daughter a black eye. They wouldn't tell him why. He clenched his fist and punched her in the stomach. Unfortunately, an old friend appeared in the doorway. The door was open after the children's silent entrance and he looked upon this "heinous" act.
"Bob, she's your wife. What are you doing to her?" the friend said, mortified. The children ran to him, hiding behind his legs, screaming for daddy. He misinterpreted.
"She's... been, she was..." He finished off despairingly, looking to the children for help.
"Ow! How could you do this to me! I loved you!" The woman cried. She was quite an actor, it seemed. She started sobbing and actual tears came out. His friend looked in disgust.
"I'm reporting this now! Come on, children, I've got a treat for you." They nodded and went with him, hoping desperately that daddy would be OK. They looked at him wistfully. "Look what you've done! These children have been abused! Do you deny that?"
"It wasn't me... They were abused, but not... by me"
Another rack of sobs tore through the woman. "No! It was your hate! For your own children! How could you! I loved you!" Her frailty was pronounced.
"But... It wasn't me... It was her... the kids... Her..."
"You heard her! Don't even try to shift the blame!" The friend yelled. The kids ran up to him, hiding behind his leg. There were tears running from their faces. Mom was hurting daddy. "Come along, children. We'll put you somewhere safe."
"You'll take us away from—"
"Yes, I'll take you away from... from... that." The children misunderstood. They hugged his legs, as if to say thank you. "You see that? They're happy to get away form you. I'm calling the courts!"
That was all it took for Eighteen's eyes to tear. The court proceeding went badly, as the children were the only witnesses. They were too afraid to say anything, and eventually they were dismissed. If only... It was too late. The custody went to the mother. They didn't tell anybody. They were too scared of their mother to say anything. They knew they would leave by 18, but by then, Gero came.
Eighteen calmly got up, ripped off the straight jacket and quietly walked out of the padded cell into the street.
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The knife flew down and stopped right before it reached his stomach. Something was stopping him. He grunted. It was something physical. For some reason this... pocket of air seemed to be stronger than him. He lifted the knife in the air again. It flew down again. It was stopped again. Inches from his stomach. Suddenly, the knife flew out from his hands. He gasped, his previously determined eyes showing shock.
'Baka...'
"Father?"
'You don't deserve to call me that. Suicide? That is dishonorable'
"Hari Kiri—"
'An honorable Saiyan would die fighting. Not some suicide pish-posh. The only heir to the Saiyan throne. The only Saiyan left, and he dies with suicide. He should die with glory, in a bang. He should die fighting. With his enemy's blood in his hands. Not his own. You disgrace me.'
"But Father... I have nothing to live for."
'You have many people to live for. One of which I will not name'
"What..? Who do you mean?"
'Figure it out on your own. You will find that you are surprised. I was. I'm going now. You're on your own. And don't try it,' the voice left him yet again and Trunks felt that familiar smack against the back of his head. Trunks shook his head, his lavender hair swirling. He was having second thoughts about Crunchy Bears. He got up off the floor and looked around. Apparently, the storage area led to his old playroom. He always wondered why it was downstairs. He walked inside the long abandoned room.
His toys were scattered about and a few fluffy little animals were stacked together in the center. He smiled. It was a happy place in his life. Even Gohan knew naught of it. He looked to the shelf. There was a battered plastic radio. Trunks hoped it still worked. He fiddled with it until he was sure he had a frequency he liked. He turned it on, and he heard a strange song.
Wonderful
I close my eyes when I get too sad
I think thoughts that I know are bad
Close my eyes and I count to ten
Hope it's over when I open them
I want the things that I had before
Like a Star Wars poster on my bedroom door
I wish I could count to ten
Make everything be wonderful again
Hope my mom and I hope my dad
Will figure out why they get so mad
Hear them scream, I hear them fight
They say bad words that make me wanna cry
Close my eyes when I go to bed
And I dream of angels who make me smile
I feel better when I hear them say
Everything will be wonderful someday
Promises mean everything when you're little
And the world's so big
I just don't understand how
You can smile with all those tears in your eyes
Tell me everything is wonderful now
Na na na na na na na
Please don't tell me everything is wonderful now
I go to school and I run and play
I tell the kids that it's all okay
I like to laugh so my friends won't know
When the bell rings I just don't wanna go home
Go to my room and I close my eyes
I make believe that I have a new life
I don't believe you when you say
Everything will be wonderful someday
Promises mean everything when you're little
And the world is so big
I just don't understand how
You can smile with all those tears in your eyes
When you tell me everything is wonderful now
I don't wanna hear you tell me everything is wonderful now
I don't wanna hear you say
That I will understand someday
No, no, no, no
I don't wanna hear you say
You both have grown in a different way
No, no, no, no
I don't wanna meet your friends
And I don't wanna start over again
I just wanna my life to be the same
Just like it used to be
Some days I hate everything
I hate everything
Everyone and everything
Please don't tell me everything is wonderful now
I don't wanna hear you tell me everything is wonderful now
Strangely, The song touched him. 500 miles away, it touched an android who had but a few hours to live.
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Eighteen walked down the afternoon street, with her back hunched looking down at her feet. She was bitterly thinking of the woman who called herself mother, when her head cocked up. It was as if she was a radio receiver. One of the few things she regretted doing was destroying most of the stations. The sound was played, but not in her ears. It was in her head. It was as though it portrayed her emotions. Her mind was entranced and her eyes sparkled. Did someone understand? It was like her, and the friend that picked her up, forcing daddy to go to the court where the mean judge made them stay with Mom. Eighteen laughed. Did her mindset just revert to a small little child's? Well, at least she was away from that... thing now. If there was only one thing she could thank Gero for, it was the absence of her mom in her life. Wait, she had two things. The absence of her mom, and the former presence of Trunks. Tears leaked in her eyes as a sad smile shone on her face.
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A/N: THAT was my longest chapter (formerly my two shortest ones), by a few hundred words or so (4186 words total! Count 'em yourself! Including A/N!). If you wanted to know, Hari Kiri was an ancient way to commit suicide in Japan. I thought it would fit. People who had disgraced themselves or dishonored their family name performed it to restore honor. They fell to their knees, pulled out a long, ceremonial dagger, and sliced their stomach open, from one side to the other, as they looked down to watch their guts spill out. Sho' is purdy! Anyway... I compiled a few pics and created this really cool title/cover thing that would be great for this fic. In fact, I got it all out of one picture. I did everything but the actual drawing. I even colored most of it! I cut, pasted, enlarged, reduced, dissolved, and texted (is that even word? It should be). Originally every one of the subjects were to scale in comparison to each other. It's really cool. Tell me if you want it sent to you! Just either sign in or include the e-mail in the little e-mail box that pops up in the review! Which means review! Oh yeah, and the son in there doesn't even belong to me. Or I'd be quite a poet. It belongs to Everclear. I thought it fit for the story. Anyway, review!