Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ For Crying Out Loud! ❯ Memory ( Chapter 9 )

**A/N: Oh Saint Christopher... I am SO tired today... Serves me right giving into the whining of the 3 sisters... heh... One of the sisters is my roommate, and well, her siblings are just adorable. They can could sell a snow cone to an Eskimo. They talked me into drinking myself silly with them last night. *holds her head and grumbles* But anyway, I'm not sure how good this chapter will turn out seeing as I'm half dead.

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It was two days after my encounter with Vegeta on the hood of the Cuda. Even thinking about it sent shivers through my body. The entire situation was my perfect fantasy. It involved the three things I loved most. Sweet cars, a sexy man, and raw animal passion. But yet, I had pushed him away and ran like a pack of dogs after a three legged cat. I was still running. Every time I caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye, I retreated to Bulma's bedroom, or some other place where I know I could escape.

I felt pathetic.

I felt worthless.

I had everything I had ever dreamed about in my arms, and I pushed it away.

As always.

I pushed it away.

And needless to say, I was doing my fair share of moping because of it. I don't even remember how many sympathetic looks Mrs. Briefs had given me. How many dozens of cookies, cakes, and bowls of ice cream she tried to give me to make me feel better. I was grateful for her concern, but nothing seemed to pull me out of this slump. In a last attempt, Bunny threw Bulma's purse at me and pushed me out the front door.

"Go shopping sweetie. I promise you'll feel better. Why don't you go find yourself a dress for the party on Friday?"

I nodded mutely, retrieving a car capsule from the purse.

"We aren't taking the Cuda?"

"No."

"But I thought you loved that car?"

"So what."

I got into the modest car, my hand turning the key in a dead manner. I wasn't at all surprised when once again, Vegeta's hand clamped down on the door. I couldn't look at him, so I stared straight ahead.

"Woman-"

I didn't give him time to finish. I put the car into drive and putted out the drive and onto the street. My chest tightened when my mind drifted to our encounter again. Why had I done that? It was always the same with me when it came to anything physical.

"So Bulma, where's the best place to buy a... dress." I spat the word out as thought it were vile. And honestly, it was in my mind. The only time in my life that I had worn a dress was at my baptism, and even then, according to my mom, I had screamed my little head off.

"Well, if you really want, we can get one that's more your style."

I smiled at my reflection in the rearview mirror. I guess Bulma did have at least one kind bone in her body.

"Alright. Where do we go?"

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The ladies in the little dress shop were very nice. The minute I walked through the door, they doted over me in the most shameless manner. I had to admit, it felt kinda good to have so much attention.

"So Ms. Briefs, what exactly are you looking for? Would you like something similar to the last dress you purchased?" one tiny woman asked as she took measurements of my hips and waist. I cocked an eyebrow, and Bulma sent me an image of what she had last bought here. I cringed.

"Not this time. I was thinking of something a little more... brazen."

The woman looked up at me, surprised. But, she smiled a little and went back to her measuring.

"What kind of fabric would you like miss?" asked another girl as she pulled out a rack of cloth samples. Looking at the choices, I created an image in my mind of how I would look for this party. Smiling, I chose three different samples, and told the women what I wanted.

"Alright miss. It will be ready within an hour."

Stepping out of the shop, I looked from my left to my right. In the distance, I could see a small cafe, and for the first time in the past two days, my tummy rumbled at me. Smiling, I started towards it. Without warning, I felt a strong hand grab my upper arm and pull me into the ally beside the dress shop. I let out a startled cry, but a hand quickly clamped itself over my mouth, and I stared up into the furious eyes of Yamcha.

Instantaneously, my fear turned to anger and I pushed him away from me.

"What the hell is your problem!?" I yelled at him, turning to leave, but he pulled me back.

"Let go of me you jerk!"

"I know you're not gay Bulma."

I barely noticed the detached sound in his voice.

"Ya. I'm not gay. What's your point?"

He pushed me against the wall, his body pressing hard against mine, and I struggled to get him away from me. He stank something terrible. It was a mix between sweat, tears, and lots of booze. He pressed his lips to my neck and whispered in my ear.

"Bulma. I love you so much. How could you do this to me?"

"I don't love you Yamcha, now let me go!"

He pulled back a little, his blood shot eyes shooting daggers at me. His hands gripped my shoulders tightly, giving me a not so gentle shake.

"I love you Bulma. Don't you understand that? I've been ruined without you."

His words sent chills up my spine. Usually, when a man was trying to get his woman back, his voice conveyed all emotions at once. But not his. His voice was monotone. Dry. He was way too calm.

I knew this scenario all too well.

"Yamcha. Please. Just.. please." I tried to remain composed, but I began to feel that eerie well inside my stomach.

"Just tell me you love me Bulma. That's all I want." He took a few steps back, releasing my shoulders. They hurt like hell, and I knew I'd have bruises. My anger flared once more.

"I will never love someone as pathetic, stupid-"

My words were cut off as went Yamcha open handed me across the face.

My ears rang.

My head spun.

It was happening again.

Oh please God no.

It was happening again.

"Layla!? Are you alright?!"

I barely heard her as I fell to my knees.

My vision blurred, and suddenly he was there again.

Standing over me.

Kicking me.

Screaming at me.

I tasted the familiar tang of my own blood in my mouth once again.

"Oh my God Bulma! I'm sorry! Bulma!?"

Yamcha's voice was distant. All I heard was him. All I felt were the blows he dealt me.

Again.

And again.

And again.

"Oh Kami please! Someone help!!!!"

I could hear myself screaming, pleading with him to stop. Telling him how sorry I was that I had hurt him. How sorry I was for all the wrongs I had done.

I didn't even acknowledge Yamcha's arms going around me, picking me up.

All I knew was that familiar pain.

The habitual beatings I had branded for so long.

And, as I had always done before, I let myself slip into unconsciousness, knowing that he would continue to strike me until he tired himself out.

Which would take an eternity.

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**A/N: O.o ... Um.. ya.. phew.. that was a difficult one to write... Incase there's confusion, Yamcha was NOT beating me... I was flashing back.. or something.. I forget the technical term.. but ya... He wasn't doing that.

Oh look! Kerbi's dancing!

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Heh.. anyway, please review. Am I doin good with this mystery/foreshadowing? I hope so. Toodles!