Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Darkened Ship ❯ Chapter 5

I saw my existence as if I had already lived it. It would be a mind-numbing life full of gatherings and banquets, polo matches and yachts. It would always be the same mechanical people, the same monotonous chatter of voices that talked of nothing but material things. I felt like I was on a great precipice no one to hold me back, none that cared for my meaningless life. Under the white table cloth, Bulma holds a salad fork, her eyes emotionless as she pokes the fork into her skin harder and hard with each blow until she draws blood, the crimson liquid running down her pale skin as it escapes its prison.

 

Bulma walked slowly along the corridor, her face composed as she walks by a steward and an elderly couple as she heads toward her room. Upon entering and closing the door all hell breaks loose. With a cry of anger and frustration she claws that the pearls that choke her with their luxury. Flinging them across the room she tears at her locks and her lovely wine dress. She manages to pull her hair out its intricate bun, but her dress remains unscathed and in all its glory. She then turns to the room, several more cries emitting from her pink lips. She flings a silver brush across the room, a dent left from its impact with the wooden wall. She turns to the mirror that adorns her vanity and with another howl she punches the glass, shattering it down the middle.

“Fucking hell!” she screams heatedly.

 

Her blue hair flies behind her as Bulma runs down the B deck promenade, her eyes red with past tears, some still streaking down her face with the wind that brushes her flustered cheeks. She pushes past several people, mostly couples out enjoying the full moon. The watched in shock as the young girl showed her emotions.

 

(On the Poop Deck)

Vegeta lay on the timber bench, his feet resting on the black, metallic rest. His lips hugged a lit cigarette, the smoke curling to the heavens as his onyx eyes gazed at the twinkling stars in the black skies. Hearing the hurried footfalls of the blue haired girl he turns just in time to see her whip past him, her cries ringing in his ears. They are the only two on the stern deck, except for quartermaster Rowe, who is twenty feet above them on the docking bridge catwalk. She notices neither in her hurry to escape the unknown, her thoughts jumbled in disarray. She continues to run quickly, her vision blurred with suppressed tears and her breath hitched with concealed sobs. She slams into the flagpole that looks over the black waters below the large liner. Her blue eyes lock on the murky waters as her mind goes blank. All she can think of is how comforting the waters look to her aching soul. She looks around her before climbing the rails, her dark dress pulled up as she clumsily climbs over the railing. Moving methodically she turns her body and hooks her heels onto the white-painted gunwale, her backside against the railing. She looks out at the darkness. Sixty feet below her the massive propellers are churning the Atlantic waters into white foam, it's ghostly wake trailing off into the horizon. The cold wind bites at her pale skin, its color growing paler with the cold. She leans out, her arms straightening. Her cerulean gaze is locked down, hypnotized by the vortex below her. Her azure locks flutter around her as she loosens her gripe a little, her knuckles turning red and white with the pressure it takes to keep her in place above her death bed.

 

Okay, going to end this chappie right here. Need some reviews peeps!