Angry music blasted from the young child's stereo. The infuriated-sounding music expressed the boy's inner torment. He sat at the foot of his bed, his golden-tipped boots hanging off the bedside. Deep sapphire eyes expressed sadness and torture as tears flowed in a steam from them as he gazed at the ruins outside his window. Yet at the same time, he was happy, glad that his torment and the cruelty aimed at him would soon end.
His hair, natural lavender locks that hung in his eyes, was unkempt, messy from days of planning, and less readying himself for the day. Streaks of fading black highlights banded his hair. His green fighting suit, worn and ripped from repeated use, was in shreds as it merely clung to his sweaty skin. A note lay next to him, inscribed with his final dark thoughts, accompanied by a sharp five-inch hunting knife.
He couldn't withstand the pain anymore. His father was no longer sane, attacking and killing every innocent passerby that came into his sight. No longer did he recognize him as his own son, one of his own flesh and blood, but just as another lamb to slaughter. The power of the Majins had finally overwhelmed his mind. His mother, a stunning, drop-dead gorgeous multi-billionaire who had now moved to East City, having forsaken him, throwing her son out of her house, and out of her life. She no longer trusted Sayians, including him, an innocuous half-breed.
Now, the boy, no living in a small, crappy little shack made of wood, picked up the note, along with a pen resting next to it as well, and quickly scribbled a suicide note, in the form of a poem. He brought the note to his lips, and gently kissed it. He carelessly tossed the note and pen across the room, sending a shatter through the hut as a lamp collided with the dirt floor.
Shaking nervously, he gulped as his hand took hold of the hunting knife, bringing the cold and merciless steel blade to his throat. Closing his eyes, he quickly shot his hand across his throat, along with the bloodthirsty blade. The scent of coppery blood filled the air, and he gasped for breath. He sighed, lying on his bed on the bed, and closed his eyes, blood pumping out of his body through his throat with every slowing throb of his young heart. "Why Dad, why did you turn so bad? Why Mommy, why did you abandon me?" He asked the ceiling, praying hopelessly that his parents would hear him.
His chest heaved once more, and he twitched as he walked into death's awaiting embrace, ready to take him away from this world of anguish and misery, ready to end his life for all eternity. His heart stopped beating, and he sighed into his blood-soaked sheets. The son of the Prince of Sayians had committed suicide.