"You're worth the wait, darling," she whispered, giving him a tight squeeze.
The second he was out the door, she ran to the bathroom and emptied the contents of her stomach. In five days she would be married; in four she planned to end her life…
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Bulma sat clutching her burning throat, one elbow resting on the toilet bowl, the taste of vomit still on her tongue. She sat back, holding her head in her hands, her knees pressed into her chest. It would be so much easier for everyone if she were dead and gone, but, as appealing as the thought was at the moment, her heart just wasn't in it. It would take much more—much more abuse, much more depression, much more of this life—for her to even seriously consider it.
With that in mind, she eased herself to her feet, grabbing for her toothbrush. She was about to spit out her mouthwash, when there was a knock at the door. She spit it into the sink, wiped her mouth quickly, and went to answer it. Maybe Takao forgot his keys.
But it was not Takao when she opened the door. And the moment her mind registered who was standing in front of her, her brain went hazy and her legs collapsed from under her. The last thing she remembered was strong arms holding her up and carrying her inside.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
"You just called my apartment twenty minutes ago!" Takao bellowed at the bank manager, a short round man with a jet-black mustache that curled relentlessly at the ends. "You said someone stole one of my credit cards and was charging it! I know your voice, Kyubei!"
"Sir," Mr. Kyubei said, motioning for him to sit. "Please, lower your voice. You're disrupting the rest of my clients."
Takao looked around the large, marble-walled room, then took a seat slowly. He glared daggers at Kyubei, folding his hands over his knees. He was not happy.
"My accounts are vital to your pathetic little bank," Takao hissed, knowing the threat was useless. That had been true ten years ago, when Kyubei had been his close friend and confidant; the bank had been about to go under when Takao offered his assistance. Now the two men were little more than acquaintances. Funny how fame, women, alcohol, and greed can change a friendship. Kyubei pitied the man that sat before him. He curled his plump fingers around his old tarnished pocket watch; silly to carry something so gaudy nowadays, but it had been his father's and his father's before it. He cherished it more than his bank.
"That isn't true anymore, Mr. Daishi," Mr. Kyubei said calmly. It would have been so out of line, and out of character for that matter, for him to tell Takao exactly what he thought of him. But just to see the look in his dark, sunken eyes would bring the old man great satisfaction. "And, in the matter of your credit cards, did you even bother to check if any were missing?"
Takao frowned and pulled out his wallet. Checking the contents carefully, he gave a soft groan. Obviously, they were all there.
"Then why would you call my house?" he demanded furiously. What if Bulma got up the nerve to escape? He could not have that!
"It seems you have been pranked," Mr. Kyubei said. "No one from this bank called your apartment. No one has stolen or used your credit cards." He stood, extending his hand to Takao, who refused it as his disgusted by the slightly wrinkled skin. "Good day, Mr. Daishi."
Takao stomped out of the bank, pushing against people that happened to cross his path. By the time he reached his car he was in a complete rage. And, for a moment, all he could think of was his sister, Aki, and how he missed her.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Flashback:
"I don't know you anymore, Takao!" she screamed, her back pressed against the closed door, eyes laced with gleaming tears. How badly he wanted to crush her against him, the way he had when their parents died, and tell her that everything would be fine. But that was wrong now, and he knew that.
"Aki," he whispered, his voice trembling. She was the only person who could bring him to such a state. His baby sister, the only thing he truly loved anymore. "Please, listen—"
"To what, Tak?" she all but gasped, glaring viciously at her. The only thing worse than her tears, was her anger. It pained him to no end to see such a beautiful and happy person reach such hideously emotional heights. And he had been the cause of it, again. "Your lies!" Her voice shook in her throat. "I've trusted you for too long!"
"But I never meant—"
"I believed you when you said you didn't hurt Emiko. I believed you when you said Ise had been mugged, again. I even believed you, brother, when you said you never laid a hand on Teruyo. But this time I caught you! I saw you lift your hand and slap Bulma! I heard her cry out for you to stop, and then you laughed!" There was only hurt I her voice now. And a mild confusion. When had her beloved brother become such a monster?
"Do you remember that night mom and dad died?" he asked, his voice nearly inaudible. He had been thirteen at the time, and little Aki had only been six.
Aki nodded slowly. Even now the pain cut her deep.
"Yes," she squeaked out, her voice breaking. "A man robbed the house…Dad tried to stop him, but…" She couldn't go on.
"Believe me now when I tell you it was all a lie. The police lied to you to protect you."
Aki's eyes widened in horror, but she did not speak.
"Our father," he said, voice shaking, "was a horrible man. I can't even begin to tell you how evil he was." He looked up to see that Aki had slid to the floor, her arms clutched tightly around her knees. When he tried to approach her, she backed up into the wall. He stayed still and continued. "He beat our mother. He beat her, and he beat me. That's why she visited her sister so much, because of him!"
"She would never leave us alone with him if he was like that!" Aki snapped, her tears betrayed her true emotional terror.
"She had to!" Takao reasoned. "He was too powerful, and he had never laid a hand on you. She trusted I would protect you, and I did…"
Aki gasped in realization, the scattered and broken images coming back to her. There had been no burglar, only her family, and that blood-soaked living room carpet. Her parents lay, lifeless, on the floor, and Takao stood in the middle of them, clutching a bloody knife in his hand. When he saw her at the bottom of the stairs, he dropped the weapon and ran to her, gathering her up in his arms and out of the house. The rest was a blur.
"He attacked her when she came home that night," Takao continued. "He had been drinking. And earlier that night he had tried to hit you. I grabbed him before he could and you ran away…After he beat me," he breathed, "I went to check on you, and you were safe in your bed…He attacked her because he couldn't touch you, and he'd already had his way with me." Across the room Aki was silent, her eyes wide and glistening. If only she would let him hold her. "By the time I got downstairs, he'd already stabbed her…I ran at him. I didn't care about how much pain I was in…I got the knife somehow and I stabbed him. I don't know how many times, but he was dead when I stood up…I'm so sorry Aki!" He cried miserably into his hands, his mind's eye playing tricks on him; his hands were covered in his father's blood again. He wanted to scream, but his breath caught in his throat and he only sobbed helplessly, his body crumbling to the floor.
"You became him," Aki whispered, as she stood on unsteady legs. "You killed him, and then you became him."
"No!" But the moment he spoke it, he knew it was true. He had so much hate in him. But only love for her! "I love you, Aki. I would never hurt you!"
"I know, Takao. I know." She bowed her head, as if in prayer, finding his eyes across the room. "But you still hurt all those other women…I don't want to know you anymore…I'm sorry. Please understand…"
He ran towards her, without thinking, and pulled her into a savage embrace.
"Don't leave me, Aki," he pleaded.
"Let me go, Takao. Don't make this any harder. Just let go." Her voice was soft and soothing again. He dropped his arms and stepped back, looking deep into her eyes. She'd meant her words. "I still love you, brother."
The door creaked shut behind her. For a moment he stood there, staring at the empty space where she once stood, his eyes welling with tears again.
That night, Bulma paid for his pain.
End Flashback:
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Bulma's eyes fluttered open, and her heart skipped a beat. She had been so such that Vegeta was there with her, in that awful apartment. But it had all been a horrible dream, hadn't it?
She sat up, her eyes already full of tears. She was about to get out of bed, when she heard someone gasp softly behind her. Slowly she turned, her eyes widening, first in shock, and then in happiness as her dream was realized before her eyes.
"Vegeta!" she whispered, as if saying his name any louder would make his presence not real. She stumbled out of bed and into his arms, kissing him feverishly, for if he were a dream, she wanted to feel his kiss again. "I thought I'd never see you again," she cried into his chest. "I missed you so much!"
His face was dark when she looked up at him.
"We have to hurry," he said, looking around as if there were some secret door which they could escape. But the only exit was the front door, and Takao could return at any moment!
But when he pulled Bulma's arm for her to come, she froze up. She heard Takao's words ringing in her head: "I read the papers, my love. But no, I won't touch them. That would do no justice for the disobedience you're showing me right now." He meant to kill Vegeta if she left him, and there was no doubt in her mind that he would go through with it. He was what it meant to be evil.
"Bulma," Vegeta said urgently. "We have to leave. Now."
She shook her head, pulling away from him. He stared at her blankly, releasing her when he felt his hand crushing her wrist.
"But—"
"You have to leave, now," she said, pushing him towards the door. He managed to stop her at the door, kissing her desperately.
"Bulma?"
Her eyes went hazy and she shook her head.
"Leave," she said firmly. "Get out before he gets back!"
"Bulma, listen to me." He grabbed her arms, yanking her almost roughly towards him. "I called him. I told him to go to the bank! He'll find out it was a prank the second he gets there, and then he'll be furious! I will not leave you alone with him."
"You think I can't fend for myself, Vegeta?" she hissed angrily. Inside she wanted to curl into him and let him carry her away. But she couldn't risk his safety. Oh Kami, she loved him! "I have been defending myself since day one! I do not need you!"
The words stung more than she could know. But she didn't care in that moment; all she knew was Takao's face and what he was capable of.
"What did he do to you?" Vegeta whispered, his voice harsh, but his eyes soft and moist. He would cry any moment and her heart would shatter.
"He showed me a love you'll never know."
And even though he knew the words weren't true, his mind made him shrink back and for the first time he wanted to slap her. To hit her so hard that she took it back and begged him to take her away. But it was a fleeting thought before he fully realized it, and, his hands trembling, he gripped the door handle. Bulma's eyes widened slightly, as if she didn't believe what she was seeing, and then she closed them tightly and turned away. Vegeta let the handle go and lunged at her, wrapping his arms frantically around her. She resisted him completely, keeping her shoulders stiff and cold. He kissed her cheek, her neck, her shoulder. With a final tug, she pulled away and disappeared through the bedroom door, slamming it shut.
For a long time Vegeta stood, shocked still, in the foyer. And then he saw, in replay, as she walked away and slammed the door. His eyes misted and he wiped at them furiously.
"You're leaving me for him!" he yelled at the closed door. "Fine!" He banged his fist against the closest wall. "Rot here with him! And never come back! Never!"
He rushed from the apartment, slamming the door, and stomped into the hall. The second the lock clicked, he ran back at the door, hurling his body full force at it. But it was steel, and he only hurt himself. In his anger he had allowed himself to leave her there!
And then he heard the hurried footsteps.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Bulma swallowed her breath in deep painful gasps. Her back was against the bedroom door, her cheeks were stained, and, as far as she was concerned, she no longer had a heart to be broken. Those screams, his screams, such pain; they echoed relentlessly through her mind.
She wanted to vomit again.
And then she heard the click of the front door lock. She bolted into the bathroom and turned on the faucet. Quickly, she wiped her face clean, padding it dry with a washcloth. She was back in the bedroom the moment he walked through the door.
"Did you fix the problem?" she asked, sitting at the desk. She opened a drawer and pulled out a pad of paper with a list of wedding "items" on it. She wrote something quickly, then slid it back in the drawer. She prayed it looked convincing. Could he know that Vegeta was here? "Takao?"
He looked up at her, his eyes narrowed it that way that sent chills down her spine. He was mad, of course, and she knew exactly why.
"Some moron," he said, gritting his teeth, "prank called me about the bank. There was no problem."
Bulma lifted her hand to her lips, gasping quietly. Oh no! Pranked! She was such a great actress.
"Would you like me to make you something?" she said, coming around to take his coat and briefcase. He allowed her to do this, but refused her offer. Roughly he grabbed her arms and threw her on the bed. She cried out softly, her lips quivering as he climbed on top of her.
"I've had a bad day, my love," he whispered in her ear. "Make me feel better."
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Vegeta sat in his car for an hour before he started the engine. He'd made sure to park far enough away from the building, but he could still see it blocks away; nothing could hide that high-rise. He took a deep breath and pulled into traffic. There was nothing he could do for her now. She'd pushed him away, pushed him so hard that he had deliberately left her there, and, now that Takao had returned, he couldn't go back.
He blasted his favorite "angry music" CD the entire way back to Satan City. But the music only furthered his mood, and by the time he reached his house he was in such a rage he nearly knocked his aunt off her feet as he came crashing through the door.
"Vegeta!" she called after him. He retreated into the basement and locked the door. But what he didn't know was that she'd had a key made. She found it quickly, and unlocked the door. "Vegeta!" she called again, descending the stairs.
He looked up, not questioning how she got in.
"What happened? Where were you? We've been out looking for you all day. The school called and said you got up in the middle of class and left."
"Are you done now?" he snapped, pulling on his boxing gloves.
"Vegeta, I'm only concerned about you, you know that."
He glared heatedly at her.
"Where did you go?"
"Tokyo, ok?"
"Tokyo! What in Kami's name—"
"After your little talk, I did some research," he sighed, loosening his shoulders. "I found out where that bastard lives."
"You went there!" Her eyes widened in horror and she took a step back. He wouldn't do anything that brash, would he?
"Yes, I went there. I called him and made up some bullshit story about credit card fraud. I went to the apartment and I saw her." His voice was shaky now, his hands in fists under the gloves. She could never know the heartbreak he was feeling right now. And coupled with his intense anger—anyone else would have been terrified of him right now. "I told her what happened and I tried to get her to come with me…but she refused…She…She said she loves him and for me to leave her alone…" He sunk to the floor, throwing his gloves off. His aunt was to his side in seconds, holding him to her as she said over and over:
"It'll be ok, Vegeta. It'll be ok. I promise. You'll see. You'll see…"
"No it won't," he shuddered against her, clutching her shoulders. The only other time his aunt had seen him cry was when his parents died. She could feel the tears brimming in her own eyes. How badly she wanted to take away his pain, but she didn't know how! She didn't even have a clue as to where to begin. "She'll marry him…She'll marry him and she won't even tell me why…"
"Maybe—"
"Don't," he sighed, pulling back and wiping his eyes. "Don't…"
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
---Chapter 13!!!! Well, that was a weird note to end on. I don't know if I liked the end of that chapter, but I'll make it up next time! I swear! The rest of the chapter was good, or so I like to think :P
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (ReviewsMore Chapters)
Next time: How will they stop the wedding!? Will they stop it!? AHHHHHHHHH!