*Here we are, the next chapter. Sorry for the long wait, but I've been on
vacation the past month, so I've been away from my computer. Please,
please, please review. I didn't get nearly as many reviews for the last
chapter as I did the chapter before, and I don't know if that was because
it sucked, or it was so-so, or if you just didn't read it. If you don't
like where the story is going, please tell me, and if you do like where the
story is going, please tell me. O.K., enough jabber, thank you to those
who have been reviewing, and I actually wrote a bio, so you can check that
out if you're bored. Now onto the story, it turned out a little longer
than I planned, but there is a lot of drama, so enjoy.*
Vegeta On His Own
Chapter 8
Dreams
Images were flashing through Vegeta's mind at a rapid pace. They barely stayed long enough for Vegeta to interpret what it was before another one appeared. Pictures flashing constantly and morphing into the next. His heartbeat was quickening, he could feel it pounding against his rib cage like a wild animal trying to escape. Then a face stood out longer than the others. Bulma. The images would play again, then... Bulma. His heart skipped a beat, his breath caught in his throat. Then the scene completely changed. He was on Namek, and he was lying, beaten on the cold, hard ground with Frieza standing over him, menacingly. He saw him grin. "Only a monkey," he whispered. Then a beam of light shot through Frieza's body, tearing him apart in a burst of white light. Vegeta turned to the source of the energy blast to see Kakarot, standing there, laughing. "Always one step behind, aren't we, Vegeta?" His face then became serious, his lips curled and suddenly, it wasn't Kakarot, but Cell. "Ah, Vegeta. We are foolish, aren't we?" He raised his hand, pointed a finger and shot out a beam of light. Vegeta threw his arms in front of his face, and braced himself for the attack, but instead he heard a strangled cry from behind him. He spun around to see Mirai Trunks lying on the ground, his eyes wide open, and a bloody hole, through the center of his chest. Suddenly he was overcome by rage and he ran towards Cell and grabbed his neck with both hands and tried to strangle the life out of him. But then the face changed again, and it wasn't Cell he was strangling, but Bulma. Her eyes were open and staring at him in shock. "Vegeta," she half-choked, half-cried. He loosened his grip considerably, but continued to hold her up, and her head fell backwards, limply. "What did you do?" He heard someone yell at him and spun around to where Mirai Trunks' body was supposed to be, but instead it was his Trunks. His eyes were wide in disbelief and then he shut them and tears flowed freely out, and he screamed, "You bastard, first you kill Okasan, and now you're going to kill her, too!" Confused Vegeta turned back to face the body he was holding, but instead of Bulma, it was Bra.
Suddenly, Vegeta felt the real world crash down upon him, and he found himself in Bra's room, holding her up from her crib with both hands around her small body. His eyes widened in shock at what he was doing and he took a sharp intake of air. Bra was crying at the top of her lungs and Vegeta gently put her back down in her crib. He slumped to the floor shaking. He had almost killed his own daughter without realizing it; she might even be hurt now.
"Otosan, are you O.K.?"
Vegeta spun around to see Trunks staring at him in concern. He found that he was still shaking, and tried to relax. He stood back up, and took a deep breath. "Hai," he replied, but it was barely even a whisper. He looked back down at Bra, and could see red marks where his hands had gripped her. He reached his hand out, but drew it back. He wanted so badly to pick her up and hold her until she stopped crying, but he was terrified that he would hurt her again.
Trunks was utterly bewildered at his father's behavior and his sister's screams (for she was usually a quiet baby). He walked over to the side of the crib, and looked at his father's face. His face was utterly pale, but glistening from sweat, and his eyes were full of shock and.fear? He leaned over and gently picked his baby sister up in his arms and held her close to his body and started to gently rock her. Vegeta had turned and was now staring absentmindedly at the fragile baby cradled in his son's arms.
Trunks began to feel nervous under his father's intensive glare. He became aware of how hot the room was, and how his pajamas were sticking to the sweat on his body. He felt almost sick to his stomach in the heat. Vegeta reached out his hands and brushed the blue whisps of hair on Bra's head out of her eyes. Trunks watched curiously and saw his fathers hand brush her hair, and then, as he was drawing it away, he felt their skin come into contact, and shivered for it was ice cold.
He then noticed the red marks covering Bra's body. He didn't want to say anything, but he knew they were from his father. However, he knew that if his father wanted to inflict damage upon her, she would have been long dead. He looked up at him, trying to put the expression on his face, and the marks on his sister, together.
"Are you o.k., Papa?" He asked again.
No answer.
He held out Bra, who had calmed down considerably, to his father. "Do you want to hold her?"
Vegeta took a sharp intake of breath and backed up as his sons held out the baby. His heart was racing and he was starting to feel clausterphobic, with his daughter so near. "I.I think I'll go train," he said, "Yes, I haven't done that in awhile." He brushed pass Trunks and exited the room, and headed to the balcony, where he blasted off.
Vegeta cut through the night air, high above the towns, and almost skimming along the clouds. He finally came to a lush, green valley, nestled in the middle of high mountains. He landed in the middle of the field, and closed his eyes and took some deep breaths. Then he quickly started his training with fierce kicks and punches at his intangible opponent.
He was still wearing the same outfit he had gone to bed in: a tight black tank and black boxers. He hardly cared at the moment, because it's not like anyone was there watching him. The summer night was warm, but it felt good against his skin, which was still clammy from his "all too real" nightmare.
He tried to distract himself with his training, but his mind kept wandering back to his baby daughter. He could have killed her. He almost had. He clenched his teeth as he felt a stab of pain in the pit of his stomach, and his eyes started to water. He collapsed onto all fours, and started breathing rapidly as he could only think more and more of the horrible dream, and his horrible awakening.
Trunks woke up to find the sunlight streaming through the glass balcony doors, high in the sky. He had fallen asleep on the couch, waiting for his father, and by the looks of it, he still hadn't come home. He went to his sister's room and took her out of her crib, sat down in the chair, and fed her with the bottle sitting on the nightstand. As he held her he noticed the bruises covering her body had now turned blue. 'It's a good thing she's half-saiyan,' he thought, 'they won't hurt her as much.'
Trunks' head shot up when he heard the balcony door slam shut, and waited for his father to come. Vegeta walked by the room, and briefly looked in to see Trunks feeding Bra, and then he proceeded to his own room. He certainly looked as if he had been training, for his clothes stuck to his body with sweat, and his breathing was a little quickened.
Trunks didn't see his father at all for the rest of the day, and he had to make himself sandwiches for lunch and dinner, and take care of Bra. Finally, the next morning, Trunks awoke to find his father in the kitchen making breakfast. After many failed attempts from the previous weeks, Vegeta had finally gotten down how to fry eggs, and so their breakfasts mainly consisted in about a dozen eggs each and toast.
Their lunch was silent, Trunks had learned long ago to never try to push his father into a conversation, for Vegeta usually liked to keep to himself. However, their lack of communication wasn't healthy for them since they no longer had their mother to talk with. She had formed the connection between the two. And with Bulma gone, their connection was lost.
Their silence continued throughout most of the day, and even Bra seemed to be observing the silence. Finally it seemed like the day would finally end when the family sat down for dinner. The meal started off okay with their usual microwaved hotdogs, and Vegeta was trying to feed Bra. Bra, however, did not want to eat. She kept turning her head away and she started to cry the more Vegeta tried to feed her. Finally, Vegeta gave up on trying to feed her, and picked her up from her high chair, hoping that maybe if he held her, she would calm down.
But Bra didn't want to calm down. Her crying was growing louder and louder and Vegeta's patience was beginning to thin. He put her back down in the high chair and gave her a rattle that the Sons had given her when she was born. She picked up the rattle and then started crying harder, and threw the rattle away off the high chair.
"What do you want? Why won't you stop crying?" Vegeta asked her as he tried to offer her her bottle again. She started screaming at the top of her tiny lungs, and Vegeta banged his head on the table in frustration.
"She doesn't need changing," commented Trunks trying to help his father calm down his sister because her crying was starting to get on his nerves, too.
"JUST SHUT THE HELL UP!" Vegeta stood up from his chair, knocking it over, and spun around to throw the bottle at the hard refridgerator door, smashing the bottle on impact and spilling the formula everywhere.
"DON'T YELL AT HER!" Trunks screamed at his father's back and standing up from his chair.
Vegeta was taken aback at having his son yell at him, but that quickly faded away, and his anger and frustration from the past months that he had been hiding away started to boil, and his face became red. He strode around the table and up to his son and bent his face down so that their eyes were only a foot apart. He clenched his teeth and snarled, "don't ever tell me what to do."
Trunks didn't back off and looked his father back in the eyes. "Well maybe she's crying because the last time you were with her, you tried to kill her."
Vegeta stood up strait, "Don't talk about what you don't know, boy."
"I SAW THE BRUISES ON HER! YOU TRIED TO KILL HER THE OTHER NIGHT!"
"I WOULD NEVER TRY TO KILL HER," he yelled back, then he muttered to himself, "it was just a dream."
But Trunks had heard this, "OH, SO IT WAS A DREAM. IS THAT YOUR EXCUSE FOR THIS TIME."
"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"
"YOU'RE ALWAYS MAKING EXCUSES. 'I ONLY KILLED ALL THOSE PEOPLE IN THE STADIUM BECAUSE I WAS POSESSED, I SHOULD BE THE STRONGEST BECAUSE I'M THE PRINCE, I CAN'T BE BEATEN BY KAKAROT BECAUSE HE'S A THIRD CLASS SAIYAN, I CAN'T LOVE MY FAMILY BECAUSE OF MY DARK PAST!"
Trunks' comments hit Vegeta hard, and his rage was increasing with every blow his son hit him with. "DON'T EVER TALK TO ME THAT WAY, I'M YOUR FATHER!"
"YOU'RE MY FATHER? NOW THERE'S AN EXCUSE YOU DON'T USE TOO OFTEN. GODDAMMIT, OTOSAN, WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO STOP USING EXCUSES TO EXPLAIN WHY YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE!"
SMACK
Trunks lay on the ground with tears in his eyes as he felt the blood pour out from the broken vessels under the skin on his left cheek. Vegeta stood over him with his left hand still held in the air and his eyes full of shock at what he had just done. In his rage he had backhanded his only son across the face with all of his strength. Trunks brought his hand up to his throbbing cheek, and let his tears flow freely down his face. "I hate you," he sobbed, then he stood up and ran into his room, slamming the door.
Trunks lay on his bed with his face on the pillow. He couldn't seem to stop crying. His father had hit him. He couldn't believe it. Though he always got along better with his mother, he had always looked up to his father as if he was a hero. And he was a hero to him. But now that seemed so long ago. The past few months had seemed like an eternity. He missed his mother dearly, and even though he loved his new little sister, every time he held her he wondered if she was worth losing his mother up to.
He calmed down, and unburied his face from the depths of the pillow, and turned onto his right side to look at the picture on his nightstand. It was of his mother and himself at the post-Buu picnic. They still held the picnic every year at Capsule Corps., but that would change, too. There was so much change in his life the past few months, and now, more than ever, he needed his mother to help him through the changes. He was still only ten, and it seemed that he lost the only person that had ever loved him.
Trunks heard the door to his room open slowly, and his breath caught in his throat. He didn't dare look towards it and kept his hand on top of his bruised cheek. His father's heavy footsteps disturbed the stillness of the room, as he walked over towards Trunks on his bed. Trunks flinched when he took a hold of his hand, preparing for the worst, but Vegeta only lifted it up slightly and then placed something cold on his bruised face and then put his hand back down. Trunks clutched at the thing he had given him. It was an icepack.
"I'm sorry." The words sounded distant and unreal, but Trunks knew he heard it. His father had apologized to him. Slowly he sat up and turned to look at his father. Vegeta didn't look at him though, but instead talked towards the wall. "I would of given you a senzu bean, but I know you're tough." He looked over at him and gave him a little smile, but Trunks didn't return it.
He turned his gaze back towards the wall, " There is no excuse for the way I acted. I should of never hit you."
Trunks looked down at his bed. "I'm sorry about the things I said. I don't really think about you that way." They stayed there for a while, looking in any direction except at each other. Then, slowly, Trunks got off his bed and hugged his father. He wanted to just stay there, and he was hoping that Vegeta wouldn't push him away.
Vegeta just stood there with his arms pinned to his side, then, after hesitating a little, he took one arm and put it on Trunks' back. "I do care about you, son." He said slowly and barely above a whisper. "Even if I don't show it."
Trunks smiled. "I know, Otosan. I know."
*O.K., Vegeta was a little OOC at the end, but I wanted to finish up the chapter on a good note. I know that Trunks may had seem more like a teenager than a 10 year-old when he was arguing with Vegeta, but he just gets it from his parents. If you're reading this now, it means you've read the whole chapter, so please review and I'll try to update A.S.A.P.*
Vegeta On His Own
Chapter 8
Dreams
Images were flashing through Vegeta's mind at a rapid pace. They barely stayed long enough for Vegeta to interpret what it was before another one appeared. Pictures flashing constantly and morphing into the next. His heartbeat was quickening, he could feel it pounding against his rib cage like a wild animal trying to escape. Then a face stood out longer than the others. Bulma. The images would play again, then... Bulma. His heart skipped a beat, his breath caught in his throat. Then the scene completely changed. He was on Namek, and he was lying, beaten on the cold, hard ground with Frieza standing over him, menacingly. He saw him grin. "Only a monkey," he whispered. Then a beam of light shot through Frieza's body, tearing him apart in a burst of white light. Vegeta turned to the source of the energy blast to see Kakarot, standing there, laughing. "Always one step behind, aren't we, Vegeta?" His face then became serious, his lips curled and suddenly, it wasn't Kakarot, but Cell. "Ah, Vegeta. We are foolish, aren't we?" He raised his hand, pointed a finger and shot out a beam of light. Vegeta threw his arms in front of his face, and braced himself for the attack, but instead he heard a strangled cry from behind him. He spun around to see Mirai Trunks lying on the ground, his eyes wide open, and a bloody hole, through the center of his chest. Suddenly he was overcome by rage and he ran towards Cell and grabbed his neck with both hands and tried to strangle the life out of him. But then the face changed again, and it wasn't Cell he was strangling, but Bulma. Her eyes were open and staring at him in shock. "Vegeta," she half-choked, half-cried. He loosened his grip considerably, but continued to hold her up, and her head fell backwards, limply. "What did you do?" He heard someone yell at him and spun around to where Mirai Trunks' body was supposed to be, but instead it was his Trunks. His eyes were wide in disbelief and then he shut them and tears flowed freely out, and he screamed, "You bastard, first you kill Okasan, and now you're going to kill her, too!" Confused Vegeta turned back to face the body he was holding, but instead of Bulma, it was Bra.
Suddenly, Vegeta felt the real world crash down upon him, and he found himself in Bra's room, holding her up from her crib with both hands around her small body. His eyes widened in shock at what he was doing and he took a sharp intake of air. Bra was crying at the top of her lungs and Vegeta gently put her back down in her crib. He slumped to the floor shaking. He had almost killed his own daughter without realizing it; she might even be hurt now.
"Otosan, are you O.K.?"
Vegeta spun around to see Trunks staring at him in concern. He found that he was still shaking, and tried to relax. He stood back up, and took a deep breath. "Hai," he replied, but it was barely even a whisper. He looked back down at Bra, and could see red marks where his hands had gripped her. He reached his hand out, but drew it back. He wanted so badly to pick her up and hold her until she stopped crying, but he was terrified that he would hurt her again.
Trunks was utterly bewildered at his father's behavior and his sister's screams (for she was usually a quiet baby). He walked over to the side of the crib, and looked at his father's face. His face was utterly pale, but glistening from sweat, and his eyes were full of shock and.fear? He leaned over and gently picked his baby sister up in his arms and held her close to his body and started to gently rock her. Vegeta had turned and was now staring absentmindedly at the fragile baby cradled in his son's arms.
Trunks began to feel nervous under his father's intensive glare. He became aware of how hot the room was, and how his pajamas were sticking to the sweat on his body. He felt almost sick to his stomach in the heat. Vegeta reached out his hands and brushed the blue whisps of hair on Bra's head out of her eyes. Trunks watched curiously and saw his fathers hand brush her hair, and then, as he was drawing it away, he felt their skin come into contact, and shivered for it was ice cold.
He then noticed the red marks covering Bra's body. He didn't want to say anything, but he knew they were from his father. However, he knew that if his father wanted to inflict damage upon her, she would have been long dead. He looked up at him, trying to put the expression on his face, and the marks on his sister, together.
"Are you o.k., Papa?" He asked again.
No answer.
He held out Bra, who had calmed down considerably, to his father. "Do you want to hold her?"
Vegeta took a sharp intake of breath and backed up as his sons held out the baby. His heart was racing and he was starting to feel clausterphobic, with his daughter so near. "I.I think I'll go train," he said, "Yes, I haven't done that in awhile." He brushed pass Trunks and exited the room, and headed to the balcony, where he blasted off.
Vegeta cut through the night air, high above the towns, and almost skimming along the clouds. He finally came to a lush, green valley, nestled in the middle of high mountains. He landed in the middle of the field, and closed his eyes and took some deep breaths. Then he quickly started his training with fierce kicks and punches at his intangible opponent.
He was still wearing the same outfit he had gone to bed in: a tight black tank and black boxers. He hardly cared at the moment, because it's not like anyone was there watching him. The summer night was warm, but it felt good against his skin, which was still clammy from his "all too real" nightmare.
He tried to distract himself with his training, but his mind kept wandering back to his baby daughter. He could have killed her. He almost had. He clenched his teeth as he felt a stab of pain in the pit of his stomach, and his eyes started to water. He collapsed onto all fours, and started breathing rapidly as he could only think more and more of the horrible dream, and his horrible awakening.
Trunks woke up to find the sunlight streaming through the glass balcony doors, high in the sky. He had fallen asleep on the couch, waiting for his father, and by the looks of it, he still hadn't come home. He went to his sister's room and took her out of her crib, sat down in the chair, and fed her with the bottle sitting on the nightstand. As he held her he noticed the bruises covering her body had now turned blue. 'It's a good thing she's half-saiyan,' he thought, 'they won't hurt her as much.'
Trunks' head shot up when he heard the balcony door slam shut, and waited for his father to come. Vegeta walked by the room, and briefly looked in to see Trunks feeding Bra, and then he proceeded to his own room. He certainly looked as if he had been training, for his clothes stuck to his body with sweat, and his breathing was a little quickened.
Trunks didn't see his father at all for the rest of the day, and he had to make himself sandwiches for lunch and dinner, and take care of Bra. Finally, the next morning, Trunks awoke to find his father in the kitchen making breakfast. After many failed attempts from the previous weeks, Vegeta had finally gotten down how to fry eggs, and so their breakfasts mainly consisted in about a dozen eggs each and toast.
Their lunch was silent, Trunks had learned long ago to never try to push his father into a conversation, for Vegeta usually liked to keep to himself. However, their lack of communication wasn't healthy for them since they no longer had their mother to talk with. She had formed the connection between the two. And with Bulma gone, their connection was lost.
Their silence continued throughout most of the day, and even Bra seemed to be observing the silence. Finally it seemed like the day would finally end when the family sat down for dinner. The meal started off okay with their usual microwaved hotdogs, and Vegeta was trying to feed Bra. Bra, however, did not want to eat. She kept turning her head away and she started to cry the more Vegeta tried to feed her. Finally, Vegeta gave up on trying to feed her, and picked her up from her high chair, hoping that maybe if he held her, she would calm down.
But Bra didn't want to calm down. Her crying was growing louder and louder and Vegeta's patience was beginning to thin. He put her back down in the high chair and gave her a rattle that the Sons had given her when she was born. She picked up the rattle and then started crying harder, and threw the rattle away off the high chair.
"What do you want? Why won't you stop crying?" Vegeta asked her as he tried to offer her her bottle again. She started screaming at the top of her tiny lungs, and Vegeta banged his head on the table in frustration.
"She doesn't need changing," commented Trunks trying to help his father calm down his sister because her crying was starting to get on his nerves, too.
"JUST SHUT THE HELL UP!" Vegeta stood up from his chair, knocking it over, and spun around to throw the bottle at the hard refridgerator door, smashing the bottle on impact and spilling the formula everywhere.
"DON'T YELL AT HER!" Trunks screamed at his father's back and standing up from his chair.
Vegeta was taken aback at having his son yell at him, but that quickly faded away, and his anger and frustration from the past months that he had been hiding away started to boil, and his face became red. He strode around the table and up to his son and bent his face down so that their eyes were only a foot apart. He clenched his teeth and snarled, "don't ever tell me what to do."
Trunks didn't back off and looked his father back in the eyes. "Well maybe she's crying because the last time you were with her, you tried to kill her."
Vegeta stood up strait, "Don't talk about what you don't know, boy."
"I SAW THE BRUISES ON HER! YOU TRIED TO KILL HER THE OTHER NIGHT!"
"I WOULD NEVER TRY TO KILL HER," he yelled back, then he muttered to himself, "it was just a dream."
But Trunks had heard this, "OH, SO IT WAS A DREAM. IS THAT YOUR EXCUSE FOR THIS TIME."
"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"
"YOU'RE ALWAYS MAKING EXCUSES. 'I ONLY KILLED ALL THOSE PEOPLE IN THE STADIUM BECAUSE I WAS POSESSED, I SHOULD BE THE STRONGEST BECAUSE I'M THE PRINCE, I CAN'T BE BEATEN BY KAKAROT BECAUSE HE'S A THIRD CLASS SAIYAN, I CAN'T LOVE MY FAMILY BECAUSE OF MY DARK PAST!"
Trunks' comments hit Vegeta hard, and his rage was increasing with every blow his son hit him with. "DON'T EVER TALK TO ME THAT WAY, I'M YOUR FATHER!"
"YOU'RE MY FATHER? NOW THERE'S AN EXCUSE YOU DON'T USE TOO OFTEN. GODDAMMIT, OTOSAN, WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO STOP USING EXCUSES TO EXPLAIN WHY YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE!"
SMACK
Trunks lay on the ground with tears in his eyes as he felt the blood pour out from the broken vessels under the skin on his left cheek. Vegeta stood over him with his left hand still held in the air and his eyes full of shock at what he had just done. In his rage he had backhanded his only son across the face with all of his strength. Trunks brought his hand up to his throbbing cheek, and let his tears flow freely down his face. "I hate you," he sobbed, then he stood up and ran into his room, slamming the door.
Trunks lay on his bed with his face on the pillow. He couldn't seem to stop crying. His father had hit him. He couldn't believe it. Though he always got along better with his mother, he had always looked up to his father as if he was a hero. And he was a hero to him. But now that seemed so long ago. The past few months had seemed like an eternity. He missed his mother dearly, and even though he loved his new little sister, every time he held her he wondered if she was worth losing his mother up to.
He calmed down, and unburied his face from the depths of the pillow, and turned onto his right side to look at the picture on his nightstand. It was of his mother and himself at the post-Buu picnic. They still held the picnic every year at Capsule Corps., but that would change, too. There was so much change in his life the past few months, and now, more than ever, he needed his mother to help him through the changes. He was still only ten, and it seemed that he lost the only person that had ever loved him.
Trunks heard the door to his room open slowly, and his breath caught in his throat. He didn't dare look towards it and kept his hand on top of his bruised cheek. His father's heavy footsteps disturbed the stillness of the room, as he walked over towards Trunks on his bed. Trunks flinched when he took a hold of his hand, preparing for the worst, but Vegeta only lifted it up slightly and then placed something cold on his bruised face and then put his hand back down. Trunks clutched at the thing he had given him. It was an icepack.
"I'm sorry." The words sounded distant and unreal, but Trunks knew he heard it. His father had apologized to him. Slowly he sat up and turned to look at his father. Vegeta didn't look at him though, but instead talked towards the wall. "I would of given you a senzu bean, but I know you're tough." He looked over at him and gave him a little smile, but Trunks didn't return it.
He turned his gaze back towards the wall, " There is no excuse for the way I acted. I should of never hit you."
Trunks looked down at his bed. "I'm sorry about the things I said. I don't really think about you that way." They stayed there for a while, looking in any direction except at each other. Then, slowly, Trunks got off his bed and hugged his father. He wanted to just stay there, and he was hoping that Vegeta wouldn't push him away.
Vegeta just stood there with his arms pinned to his side, then, after hesitating a little, he took one arm and put it on Trunks' back. "I do care about you, son." He said slowly and barely above a whisper. "Even if I don't show it."
Trunks smiled. "I know, Otosan. I know."
*O.K., Vegeta was a little OOC at the end, but I wanted to finish up the chapter on a good note. I know that Trunks may had seem more like a teenager than a 10 year-old when he was arguing with Vegeta, but he just gets it from his parents. If you're reading this now, it means you've read the whole chapter, so please review and I'll try to update A.S.A.P.*