My Idol
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"I.. have to go!" She squeaked, turning and scurrying inside. She heard him chuckle behind her, but when she looked back at the door way, he was gone.
She sighed in relief, and hurried to her bathing room, intent on washing his glances off her body.
Bulma's mind still dwelled on the Saiyajin days later. He was a creepy man, and scared her every time he looked at her. He always seemed to have some manic look on his face.
The other Saiyajin on her mind really was a maniac. His every action confused her profusely. One minute he seem about to pounce on her and eat her, then just want to get rid of her the next. He seemed so familiar to her, though, as he was her Prince, of course he was familiar to her. But there was just something about that man, his eyes maybe.
Bulma gathered her supplies and left the sunroom to bring them back to the supply closet where they were stored. As she was about to turn the corner, she heard a very familiar voice.
"Oh my sweet child, all covered in water." The voice belonged to Radditz, the scary body guard.
"Oh, uh, Sir," A small squeaky voice replied.
"Why don't you join me, and I can help you remove all of your wet clothes." Bulma glanced around the corner and saw him standing in front of a short, timid slave woman, twirling a few locks of her wet brown hair around his fingers.
He had his arm wrapped around her waist, and her body pressed close to his. Her face was covered in fear that was very obvious to anyone to see.
"Oh, Sir, I... can't." But he didn't take no for an answer. His hand wrapped around in her hair and was used to pull her head back to he could ravish her mouth. Bulma watched as his slimy tongue swished around her lips and mouth, his hands groped her body fiercely, and he left bruises on her body. The young girl looked to be only about 12, and she was trying hard not to cry as he took over her body.
Bulma had had enough.
.o.
Radditz was really enjoying himself with this silly little girl in front of him. She tasted sweet and didn't fight him to much.
Suddenly he heard a different sort of humming, and turned to look down the hallway as the blue haired slave skipped around the corner, carrying all of her cleaning supplies.
She stopped and stared as soon as she saw them. He turned her way, letting go of the little slave in his arms.
"I... I'm sorry for interrupting..." Her eyes were wide in innocence, her mouth hanging open slightly, dumbfounded.
"Now look," He said reasonably. "You've gone and made me lose my companion. Now whose to keep me company?"
He didn't notice the slight grimace cross her face as her mind ran rampant.
"Well I... I'm quite sure I don't know, Sir. But I really should be getting all this back to the room, Sir." She rushed, and turning round, skipped, very quickly, back around the corner.
Radditz stood in the hallway by himself, wondering on the odd behavior of the girl. 'Oh well,' he thought to himself. 'I'm sure I can find much better company soon.'
.o.
He was sitting on his throne, his mind full of dark contemplations. Deep, dark, swirling, spinning until he felt sick. And he couldn't get free.
It had been two weeks since his last encounter with her, and years since his first. Thoughts of her, memories, were always close on hand.
.o.
Bulma sighed. Staying away from him had been difficult, expecially since he was the Prince's bodyguard, and she could never seem to be able to keep away form him either.
She had heard rumors that the Prince was leaving on a mission to another planet soon, so surely life would become much more bearable after that.
She was outside, and the moon was almost full. The sky was dark, the shadows even darker. All around her life seemed to hide,and though she new it was a foolish thought, she felt alone and scared.
Something about the Prince confused her. Her thoughts kept coming back to his eyes. Cold, heartless they were, really. But why did they call out to her, as if he hurt, as if he needed her.
A sudden noise close by startled her, causing her to jump in alarm. She was sitting on the castle wall overlooking the forest, and quite vulnerable to any accosters.
She looked around but saw no one.
And then she moaned. The wind was blowing softly now, through her hair almost as if it had fingers. It rippled in bright waves down past her butt along the wall, and for the life of her, Bulma couldn't remember taking off her kerchief or unbraiding her hair either.
Sweet, gentle words floated on the wind, too soft to be discerned, but she could hear them. A pain in her heart overtook her, almost to strong to bear. But the pain was not physical, it was brought on by the words in the wind. It spoke of a love so great, it was lost to touch.
Silent tears ran down her cheeks, testimony to the loss. She knew that feeling of loss, of losing something you know and hold dear.
She caught sight of the boy in the corner of her eye, and felt not panic, but peace flood through her. He would see her right. He would see that everything was alright.
Her body softened in sleep, and fell backwards off the high wall, but she was caught before she hit the ground.
So young his age, holding close this person so dear. Her life so fragile, love so solid. He had watched over her for so many years, this soft, gentle side of him. So true to pure humanity. She was his idol of all that was good. And he would protect her, even if from himself.
A.N.
Aha, I've written chapter six. But now we come to a fork in the road. I've two possible roads to take, and I've come to you for advise. I wont actually tell you what I'm thinking, but I'll assign a number to each side, and ya'll pick in your reveiws. Easy enough, 1 or 2. Then I'll write using that idea, and maybe if I'm not to lazy, I'll try to refinish the story using the other idea after I'm done. How does that sound.
Oh, and ya'll is a real word, it's in the dictionary. And so is ain't. So there!
And thank you to all you beautiful people, who lie to me everyday, and tell me you enjoy my silly stories.