I glanced out the window once more. It must have been the millionth time I had done it in the last hour, but I couldn't stop. He had blocked off the bond so I didn't know what was happening and the Camera Crew on TV had long since lost contact.
When I saw only empty air, I turned back to look at the magazine in my hand. I had read the same line over and over again, yet still didn't know what it said.
I was suddenly gripped with an unimaginable and all consuming pain. My chest constricted, fire raced through my veins and my head felt like it was being split open. I fell to my knee's, tearing at my hair to find relief from this ungodly agony, but none came. It felt like my heart was breaking. It Felt like my very soul was being torn from my body. It felt like I was dying. I was aware of someone screaming, a heart wrenching scream of pure unadulterated agony from the deepest bowels of their soul. When I felt the pain in my throat I realized it was me. I was the wretched creature that screamed, collapsed on the floor, tears pouring down my cheeks as my very soul bled.
Hands seized me, trying to sooth me, but they only made it worse. I pushed and fought, rolling on thr ground as my entire body arched and writhed in anguish. Each beat of my heart was more torturous than the last, each breath in my lungs like fire. White hot agony blinded me as I clawed at myself, seeking some relief, but there was none to be had. Nothing could sooth me for my torture came not just from the physical world but from the mental as well, from the knowledge of what had brought on this onslaught of suffering, this torment from the very pits of my soul.
As I felt the stab of a needle coupled with Bulma's frantic cries, I gave voice and form to my pain in the form of a sorrowful sob before I slipped into merciful blackness.
"He's dead."