Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z, Hitler, Britney Spears (thank God),
or Jimi Hendrix.
Author's Notes: Decided to leave you with this little chapter before I run off for the weekend. Trying to break up the angst with some humor. Enjoy.
Chapter 20: The Psycho
Jita walked up the stairs to her room, cappuccino in hand. To anyone else she looked like a normal, though slightly too intense, college student. She went to class, stayed up late, drank a lot of coffee, ate a lot, and generally spent most of her time reading or writing. But her roommate, Hannah, knew better.
Jita was a psycho.
Not just a uniquely individualistic anti-society liberal that fit in so well at college. No. She was an honest-to-goodness 'I-will-eat-your- children' psycho.
Oh, she might deceive you at first with her quiet ways, but Hannah knew better.
It had all started on the first night. Hannah had attempted to be friendly, and Jita had seemed pleasant, if somewhat distant. They had divided the room well enough, and neither of them seemed overly messy.
And then it happened.
Hannah was going over some of her textbooks, proud of herself for buying them ahead of time, when she decided the room was too quiet. It was missing . . . music. That was it. So . . . she popped in her Britney Spears CD, and cranked it up, but not too loud.
She slowly got the creeped out feeling of eyes on her. Jita was staring at her, glaring. "What the hell it that awful noise?"
Now, this was not exactly complimentary. But Hannah didn't want trouble on the first night, so she let it pass. "Oh, it's Britney Spears. I love her music. It's so . . . upbeat."
Friendliness seemed to be an alien concept to the girl, for she was still glaring. "That isn't music. Turn it off, and I'll play you music."
OK, this response was a bit terse, but at least Jita was opening up a little, so Hannah paused her CD to hear this 'real music.'
Next thing she heard was the harshest mixture of guitar chords she'd ever experienced. How could that be music? She asked Jita just that.
"Jimi Hendrix is the best guitar player in the universe, of all time. Believe me, I know."
Hannah just shook her head. She was irritated by the rudeness and the music. "Well, I don't like it." Then Hannah unpaused her CD and turned it up to tune Jimi out.
Jita yelled over the din. "Hey! I said turn that off!"
Hannah returned her glare. "I'll play this if I want! You can't tell me what to do!"
Jita simply stared ahead and walked over to Hannah. For one terrible moment, Hannah believed Jita was going to attack her. The glare. The raised fist. The mad glint in her eyes. Instead, she put her fist through the CD player, cutting "Hit Me Baby One More Time" short and leaving Hannah paralyzed in fear. Then Jita stomped out of the room, leaving Hannah alone with the last chords of "Purple Haze."
Yes, that was when Hannah knew. Never mind that Jita had coldly apologized that same night, and had bought her a new CD player and CD. Hannah didn't even dare play it without headphones. She was afraid of ending up like the first CD player.
'Just a few more weeks and I can move in with someone else.'
'If I live that long.'
A few more weeks and she could finally breathe easy and sleep in peace. Not that she had nightmares. Oh, no. One had to sleep in order to have dreams of any kind. No, she got no sleep. For the psycho had nightmares. Every night. And tended to yell in her sleep. Something about torture, rape, and death. And killing and bleeding. And freezers. What a sicko.
As Jita entered the room, Hannah hastily gathered up her books and practically flew out the door.
Jita watched her go, bemused. "It is considerate of her to give me such privacy. And even planning on moving so I could have the room to myself. I guess I won't kill her."
Having made that decision, Jita pulled out a book she had borrowed from the library. It looked like an interesting read. Sitting cross-legged on her bed and taking a sip of cappuccino, she began to read:
"Mein Kampf."
Author's Notes: Thank to all my reviewers: Omega (I'm getting to the romance. Be patient), Anonymous Cat, The Sh33p, and tim333 (thank you for your concise review. I did write some things that covered what you criticized, but I edited them and didn't realize that the editing left some holes. I'm working on ways to correct it. Anyone, read tim333's "Krillen: Only Human". It's great.)
Until next time.
Author's Notes: Decided to leave you with this little chapter before I run off for the weekend. Trying to break up the angst with some humor. Enjoy.
Chapter 20: The Psycho
Jita walked up the stairs to her room, cappuccino in hand. To anyone else she looked like a normal, though slightly too intense, college student. She went to class, stayed up late, drank a lot of coffee, ate a lot, and generally spent most of her time reading or writing. But her roommate, Hannah, knew better.
Jita was a psycho.
Not just a uniquely individualistic anti-society liberal that fit in so well at college. No. She was an honest-to-goodness 'I-will-eat-your- children' psycho.
Oh, she might deceive you at first with her quiet ways, but Hannah knew better.
It had all started on the first night. Hannah had attempted to be friendly, and Jita had seemed pleasant, if somewhat distant. They had divided the room well enough, and neither of them seemed overly messy.
And then it happened.
Hannah was going over some of her textbooks, proud of herself for buying them ahead of time, when she decided the room was too quiet. It was missing . . . music. That was it. So . . . she popped in her Britney Spears CD, and cranked it up, but not too loud.
She slowly got the creeped out feeling of eyes on her. Jita was staring at her, glaring. "What the hell it that awful noise?"
Now, this was not exactly complimentary. But Hannah didn't want trouble on the first night, so she let it pass. "Oh, it's Britney Spears. I love her music. It's so . . . upbeat."
Friendliness seemed to be an alien concept to the girl, for she was still glaring. "That isn't music. Turn it off, and I'll play you music."
OK, this response was a bit terse, but at least Jita was opening up a little, so Hannah paused her CD to hear this 'real music.'
Next thing she heard was the harshest mixture of guitar chords she'd ever experienced. How could that be music? She asked Jita just that.
"Jimi Hendrix is the best guitar player in the universe, of all time. Believe me, I know."
Hannah just shook her head. She was irritated by the rudeness and the music. "Well, I don't like it." Then Hannah unpaused her CD and turned it up to tune Jimi out.
Jita yelled over the din. "Hey! I said turn that off!"
Hannah returned her glare. "I'll play this if I want! You can't tell me what to do!"
Jita simply stared ahead and walked over to Hannah. For one terrible moment, Hannah believed Jita was going to attack her. The glare. The raised fist. The mad glint in her eyes. Instead, she put her fist through the CD player, cutting "Hit Me Baby One More Time" short and leaving Hannah paralyzed in fear. Then Jita stomped out of the room, leaving Hannah alone with the last chords of "Purple Haze."
Yes, that was when Hannah knew. Never mind that Jita had coldly apologized that same night, and had bought her a new CD player and CD. Hannah didn't even dare play it without headphones. She was afraid of ending up like the first CD player.
'Just a few more weeks and I can move in with someone else.'
'If I live that long.'
A few more weeks and she could finally breathe easy and sleep in peace. Not that she had nightmares. Oh, no. One had to sleep in order to have dreams of any kind. No, she got no sleep. For the psycho had nightmares. Every night. And tended to yell in her sleep. Something about torture, rape, and death. And killing and bleeding. And freezers. What a sicko.
As Jita entered the room, Hannah hastily gathered up her books and practically flew out the door.
Jita watched her go, bemused. "It is considerate of her to give me such privacy. And even planning on moving so I could have the room to myself. I guess I won't kill her."
Having made that decision, Jita pulled out a book she had borrowed from the library. It looked like an interesting read. Sitting cross-legged on her bed and taking a sip of cappuccino, she began to read:
"Mein Kampf."
Author's Notes: Thank to all my reviewers: Omega (I'm getting to the romance. Be patient), Anonymous Cat, The Sh33p, and tim333 (thank you for your concise review. I did write some things that covered what you criticized, but I edited them and didn't realize that the editing left some holes. I'm working on ways to correct it. Anyone, read tim333's "Krillen: Only Human". It's great.)
Until next time.
