Stolen Hearts Chapter One:
Bulma's point of view
The wind floated lightly through the afternoon air. Rays of sunlight streamed strongly down through the maze of leaves above causing dappled shadows to be cast. Accompanying the song of the rustling leaves was a crystal brook giggling through the stones with silver fish glinting back and forth in the cool water under the sun. It was not the sort of bright sun making everything curl at the edges, almost in fright, but a pale sun, as if it had grown weak from trying too hard to shine. The flowers of spring were in full bloom, loudly announcing their arrival in a beautiful array of colors, more colors then you could ever name, and their sweet smell filled the air making the animals sing with excitement. The flowers bloomed, and bloomed with such abandon, as if there was no tomorrow.
I looked down at the mass of color. They looked beautiful; they looked simple, as if made to erase a complicated unnecessary idea. It was a mystery to me why I wanted to kill them. Just like that. I wanted to kill them. I wished I had an enormous scythe so I could walk through the field, dragging it beside me, and I would cut those flowers down at the place where they emerged from the ground. Flowers have always caused a scowl to appear on my face, and this was a sign that something was terribly awry. I am a Faerie, and Faeries are supposed to utterly love the beauty and joy of nature, and above all flowers. I think perhaps it is for that very reason that I hate them. I wanted to distance myself from those creatures of such disgusting goodness that I did not understand at all. It was like the flowers were mocking me.
I remembered a time when I had been talking to Chichi, a girl I had known almost her entire life. My friend I suppose you could say. If she is my friend she is certainly my only one. When it rained she would glare and say "How typical," giving the impression she had just experienced a personal betrayal, only to be off happily attending to some task moments later. But that was Chichi, happy with life and carefree. Far be it from me to disrupt that in any way.
On the other end, when winter was drawing to a close Chichi would speak excitedly about the coming of spring. She said the word spring as if it were a close friend; a friend who had dared to go away for a long time and soon would reappear for their passionate reunion.
"I love the flowers pushing their way up out of the ground. And when they are all in bloom and masses together a breeze comes along and makes them co a curtsy to the lawn stretching out before them. When I see that, I feel glad to be alive."
So she was made to feel alive my flowers bending in the breeze. How does a person get to be that way? I wished I could be that way with all my heart, I did. If only I could be free to take in everything as it came and not see bitterness in every gesture, every word spoken, every face. But nothing would change the fact that where she saw beautiful flowers, I saw sorrow and acrimony. The same thing could make us shed tears, but those tears would not taste the same. I felt so alien with my own kind; it was like a sick joke. Like someone had given me the wrong life. I couldn't be one of these people who found everything so unbearable wonderful.
How did I come to this? I am only 19, not a long time to be alive, and yet there was not an ounce of innocence left on my face. I knew how cold and harsh my life was and it ceased to surprise me. My heart held more sorrow then any faeries ever would. Sure I once dreamed like everybody else, but I had lost those dreams in the gray of my world. I used to pray, pray for things to change, but no one was listening.
Maybe I was born cursed, for despair follows me like a faithful puppy, whatever it was I have fallen headfirst from grace and no one is there to pick me up and I lack the strength to do it myself. By myself, always by myself at the end of the world. No matter how hard I tired, I could never find the light. Few, if any, survive such a fate. Most surrender to the vague but murderous pressure of societal conformity. It becomes easier to die and avoid conflicts than to maintain a constant battle with the superior forces of fate.
I had become shriveled, bad tempered, and would snarl at anyone who did anything I found offensive. The actions were so abnormal, that I had no trouble frightening most away, leaving me alone. I used to get so angry and I thought I could solve all my problems by setting fire to this life and stating anew, changing everything about me. But here I was, just a little person no one cared about, unhappy, dissatisfied, discontented, broken, not at all content in my own skin, ready to stir an upheaval.
I presume I had an air of mystery and strangeness that made people nervous. Outside I was cool, collected, indifferent, inside I was living silently in a personal hell without anyone to tell how I felt, to understand such obtuse ideas and feeling without ever experiencing them was impossible. There was no one I knew who was even remotely akin to me. I imagine that it a good thing, since I feel like a demon, doomed to build wrong upon wrong. When I was younger I used to pretend there was a fantasy castle in the clouds I could fly to and escape, a place where crying was not permitted and no one was lost.
There would never be anyone for me to run to. My parents have become disgusted and embarrassed by me, for they are of course the King and Queen of our wonderful land. What an irony for them to have a child like me, I almost feel sorry for my dear parents. Chichi is far too pure and virtuous to comprehend my position, though sometimes I see pity in her eyes. But it is not pity I want, I loathe pity.
I would often become cross and impatient with Chichi for we were so different and neither understood the other. It was light and dark clashing, though you couldn't see it with the eye. Both of us had long flowing hair, silken wings with gossamer shimmer and faces that appeared to be pure and bright. Yet I was a wolf in sheep's clothing. There was cold blue ice in my heart, and Chichi's was as fair as a summer's day. I did not have a sunny disposition and as for actual happiness, I had been experiencing a long drought.
"You are a very angry person aren't you?" Chichi asked me one day, her voice filled with alarm and pity, and I hated it. Perhaps I should have said something reassuring; perhaps I should have denied it. But I did not. I said, "Of course I am, what did you expect?"
She simply shrugged and went on acting her usual way, which was that the world was round and we all agreed on that, when I knew that the world was flat and if I went to the edge I would fall off.
If I had to draw a picture of my life it would be a large black gray patch surrounded by black, blacker, blackest. And it broke my heart. I was dying, dying from living, and without even a faint glimmer of hope. I simply spiraled down into my inevitable doom. In a way I had become addicted to my sadness, it was all I had, the only emotion that proved I was still alive. I knew when I stopped feeling sorrow at my life, that my battle would truly be lost forever.
And all this was improper. I was improper. My life was improper. I was the shameful secret everyone tried to push into the back room so they could go on like everything was fine and normal and good. Just the way it should be. Without me the world would go on and probably be better off. A world that's full of happiness that I have never known. I often wondered if any one of them were put in my place, just for one day, if they could stand the awful emptiness inside. I'd do anything to fill it in...
"Bulma, princess are you alright?" a smooth voice called me back to the bitter reality by the bubbling stream.
I let my stunning crystal blue eyes slide over to the man at my side, a handsome young man patiently waiting for a reply. He looked a little unnerved, as he rightly should. Here he was with this unnatural creation that had just spent the last 5 minutes staring blankly into the water.
I beheld him coolly for a moment, seeing him shift under my unfaltering gaze brought me strange pleasure. I could still make them squirm. He was here to help me forget my pain, my loneliness, even if it was only for a moment. Oh how they looked at me! They reveled in my beauty and longed blindly for it like a moth to a flame. They wanted me, needed me, and that brief feeling was as addicting as any drug to one who had been so cruelly denied of it. They often pledged their undying affection while they were lying atop me, but they never stayed. They quickly shuffled away afterwards, awkward an alarmed when they finally pause long enough to see that there is a darkness lying underneath the beauty, deceptive and pristine. For I am only to be lusted after never loved. Another rule of my life.
You'd think just by chance one of my lovers would actually love me, but it was not to be so. How could I pretend someone would love something like me anyway? It was foolish, but I couldn't stop, even though I was guilty of the same. No matter how handsome how charming, none could ever make my heart melt. It was more a love of the power I held over them, that is until they were done with me. To have someone, anyone really, care about me, no matter how fleeting or false was an astonishing sensation that I could not stay away from. A small corner of my mind harbored the need to have others accept me, to gain the admiration I knew I could never have. Here I was cursed to be denied the one thing I wanted more then any other, to have someone love me and for myself to be able to return that love.
So I laid with this boy and felt nothing, heard his words that were as empty as my heart. It left me indifferent and during I would think of things I needed from the market, what new way to ban the sun from my room, or memorize a subtle but choice insult for people who thought themselves better then me with their happiness. After I would lie in a state of no state, almost as if under ether, thinking nothing, feeling nothing. It was a bad was to be, your spirit is void and will summon something in, usually something bad.
Here I was, participating in actions I knew were wrong and would get me not a step closer to my goal. I am pathetic. And have I fallen so far, and the hour is so late. This is all I have known! I feel my shame inside me like a knife. I have begun to hate this, but like an addict I keep coming back. Don't they know they're making love to one already dead?
I had drifted beyond caring enough to tear myself away, even my body was not my own. My plight was hopeless, yes, but it was all I had to distract myself from the pain. I plunged ahead with eyed open wide into the realm of foolish defiance of my fate. I was sure none of this is good for me and I liked that, I was not happy, but I knew that was too much to ask for.
A/N: ok there is the first chapter! The whole story won't be in Bulma's pov just the first couple and then the next will be Vegeta's. It's a character set-up of sorts. Yup, Bulma's not a good girl in mine, but there will be some more explanation for her actions in the next chapter. Well, thanks for reading and I promise to get these chapters out as quickly as I am capable of (the world's worst typer) 3 AMY