Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Chemicals ❯ Prologue ( Chapter 1 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Chemicals

Prologue

Even this shirt.

I loved to wear it to go camping with him.

And even this pad.

I loved to draw pictures of him.

Scattered about the floor.

The door opened so gradually, light spilled into my sanctuary and I hissed, staggering in, I muttered to myself, "What a pig sty."

My head tilted, I stared. "Filthy." I spat.

How did this happen?

I continued in, closing the door behind me. Again it was pitch black. I stumbled through, clothes, books, everything was piled across the floor, and when I fell I seemed to float, float towards the window, and when the blood on my hand sparkled in the moonlight, I stared at the broken glass.

This unbearable feeling, stuck to the window, stuck like my blood, my own monsters, they spit vivid fire at me too.

I mumble, "Man, this is dangerous."

The cloth on the floor I once wore in battle.

"I cannot train you. You've changed. Your heart has darkened."

"And you," I spat, "You could've helped me. You could've stopped this." My friend, he was supposed to be my friend, my father's comrade, it was his duty to help me.

But... but even so...

"You can't discipline yourself anymore. Your mind doesn't work the same way. Stay away from fighting."

I sat at my desk, examining my bloody hand, fragments of glass stared at me. When I flexed my hand, blood gushed out like water flooding a river.

Rivers.

He loved to fish. He taught me to fish.

His picture mocks me. The state I'm in.

"Loving memory..."

I stared ahead, my back straightened.

No.

"Son Gokou. Son Gokou. Son Gokou. Son Gokou. Son Gokou."

I'm shaking, my tears have turned into fire and they are slowly flowing down my cheeks to torture me, my chest rises and falls, indefinable sounds escape my lips, lamented.

"Shut the hell up!"

The books on my desk, the pictures we took, the pencils I worked day and night, day and night, study, study Gohan.

"Study Gohan."

The sheets on my bed. The clock on my wall. The books on my shelves, they all came ripping, ripping down.

I couldn't breathe, I was being suffocated, suffocated, oxygen, I needed it, my punishment.

I'm shaking, sitting on the wooden frame of my bed. My mattress is in shreds. The springs left ribbons of blood down my arms.

She's looking at me like she's looking at the dead. She's scared to enter.

"Gohan."

My name does not tumble off her lips easily. It's choked and forced. Her hand is on her chest. She sees I'm bleeding but she cannot enter my fortress. My sanctuary.

I'm hugging myself in my mess.

She's picking up the phone.

But his shadow is staring at me, his eyes are still black, and he is telling me that it is my fault. We are so far away, so far away from my beloved mother, that I can say nothing, and all I can do is curl up in my mess and watch the blood stain ripped pieces of paper.

What was my science..

And what was my math..

Is now stained with my essence.

And voices, so faint, but I look up, an animal in its moment of greatest anguish and confusion, "I don't know what to do, Buruma. Last time he nearly killed the doctor."

And the door opens wide. I stared at the light, and when she sat next to me, pulling me against her chest, "This might hurt.."

I tossed, and I fought, but when it was not because of the sweet feeling when the needle penetrated my skin.

I am sinking.

My eyes are heavy.

So heavy.

*****

I really, really hope this was painfully dark.