Chapter 11
Don't Let Go
Gohan sat in a chair, staring at the ground disbelieving. "How could she?" he asked no one. "How?"
The commander, who sat across from him, said nothing, letting the older saiyan sort things out for himself.
"Why?" he asked again. "She had no reason to. I just can't imagine she'd do such a thing…. Why?!" he suddenly shouted, slamming his fist down onto the ground, his fist making an imprint in the floor.
The commander flinched at the sudden, loud noise, then decided it was time for this saiyan to go home. "Mr. Son, why don't you take a break and go home-think things out. We'll call for you if we find out anymore information."
Gohan looked at him and nodded once. "Do you think you could show me to the door?" he asked in a quivering voice. "I'm not sure I could find it."
The waiting. She could remember the waiting.
Waiting for someone, anyone, to walk into the dark space she was in. But no one did.
Coal black hair matted her face, crusty with blood. Her shirt had thick, brittle patches of dried blood, as did her pants. She could only sit in the crumbled heap she was in and wait.
She couldn't understand why no one came. No one. Her mind, filled with pain, could not comprehend the facts that lay before it in plain view. The only thing she did understand was that she had done something wrong.
But what?
Doctors scurried around checking on monitors and screens frantically. Then ran about, trying to do things as quick as possible-time meant everything at this crucial point. Their patients were too important to lose.
What made it worse was that they had to do everything the old fashion way. No rejuvenation tanks, and no high-tech equipment-their condition was not stable enough for either, so they were back to IV, bandages, rest, and time.
Maybe too much time, or not enough-It depended on who you asked. The time could draw on and on, multiplying the worry and fear, and it could also be too short. Everyone wanted their King and Prince to live longer.
But now, that time seemed so terribly little.
Prince Trunks lay on a bed, and the report on his injuries was finally coming in. He had uncountable gashes and puncture wounds everywhere on his body, and there were multiple broken bones and ribs, not to mention the occasional bruise. Several doctors flocked around him, bandaging wounds and putting ointment on gashes and cuts, keeping a mental check on the amount of blood he had lost, and how much he had left, as others watched the pressure in his head formed by the severe concussion.
King Vegeta faired no better. His physical appearance had not changed-but the internal did. Somehow, someone had managed to stop his heart from beating, causing his muscles not to receive the pumping blood they so desperately needed. The doctors and scientists were completely boggled on how this happened and knew only one thing-it did happen, and they had to keep their King alive.
It was what they were born to do.
Dark seas of swirling blackness surrounded him, confusing his already baffled mind. He couldn't remember anything as his mind floated about in the black void of space, swirling, spiraling. There were vague memories in the back of his mind, but he could not grasp them to bring them to the front where he could view them.
He tried to grasp his thoughts, but the harder he tried the farther away they got. Defeated, he stopped trying to reach for goals he could not obtain and relaxed back to the darkness, the nothingness.
At the sound of he door, as if beckoned, she awoke. She looked at the figures questionably, and blinked, as if I would help her recognize the people in front of her. It didn't help in the least.
One, a man, stepped towards her. Instinctively she flinched back, without knowing the reason why. She had nothing to fear from them-or at least that's what she thought- yet she cringed when they took a step near her. When she saw something gleam in the man's hand, she immediately knew why she had cowered.
It was a blade.
She scooted herself as best she could up against the wall, but her numerous injuries prevented much movement on her part. Unfortunately, it did not prevent the man's.
The knife sliced through the air, leaving yet another gash across Pan's cheek. A muffled cry of pain escaped her, more like a whimper-she would not scream.
She knew for some reason that she did not want to scream to these people, that she did not want to cry. All she knew was that she had to hold out.
Well, whatever she was waiting for, she wished I would hurry.
The blade was all over her at once, and she could not tell one section of pain from the other. She knew one thing-the pain was there, and in 'gracious' supply.
Not only was the blade used on her, but so were other things. Her mind was too blurred with pain to identify them, but they did not cut or leave open gashes, they left bruises and broken bones.
And pain.
Awakening to pain, living through pain, and going to sleep to pain-it was almost like air-but air was something she needed. Pain was not.
It seemed as though pain was her knew best friend.
Not, though, that she could remember what a best friend was.
She could remember being asked a question, but she could not hear it correctly, nor would I matter. She couldn't understand anything anyway. They were screaming it at her, and she could only blink her eyes, as if she didn't know what they were talking about.
Well, for that matter, she didn't.
But she kept to her word. The pain ripped through her body, racing through ever fiber, and her head was swimming-no, drowning- in pain. But still she would not cry out, and she held on to her life like a dog held onto its bone-she would not let go.
Author's Note: Yes, the second chapter of the day, hope you enjoyed! Look for the next chapter tomorrow, all righty?
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And once again, thank you so so so so SOOOO much for the reviews! I love each and every one of them. ^-^