Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ For Crying Out Loud! ❯ Bitter Truths ( Chapter 11 )

I sat quietly in front of the vanity mirror, Bunny casually curling my hair and pinning it atop my head, letting a few stray curls fall around to frame my face. The bubbly woman had loved the dress I had ordered. It started with a blood red, satin under skirt, a deep purple over skirt laying over it, split up the front to layer over the red. The over skirt was sewn to the top at the sides. The skirts dipped low on my belly, inches below my naval in a V shape. The top did the same thing in an upwards V just below the valley of my breasts. The top was tight and pushed up the already nice cleavage of Bulma's body. It had soft shoulders that ran down to long sleeves, a little loose at the wrists. The cloth was covered in a scattering of stones and perfectly place sequins, so when I turned, I would shimmer and sparkle without looking flashing.

The dress really was beautiful.

Too bad I felt as far from beautiful as a person possibly could.

After Vegeta's attempt to have me in the kitchen, he had stopped any trying all together. He dodged me at every chance he could get. I had mustered up enough courage to at least talk to him about it, but he would have nothing to do with me. That was on Tuesday. It was now Friday. In the past three days, I had lost all hope of ever getting him into the sack, and getting back home.

The sad thing was, I found myself not wanting to leave. I let myself romanticize the situation I was in. That maybe, just maybe, Vegeta would see me for who I was. Not Bulma. But me. Layla. The gothic nobody who lived for classic cars and the simple things in life. The little girl who still saw beauty in things others would take for granted. The young lady with big dreams of being a published writer. The woman who supported herself and a sweet little kitten named Ozymandias; named after "The King of Kings", with a minimum wage job. The person who told herself that she was independent, yet craved the acceptance of those she insisted didn't matter to her. The dreamer, who wanted to have a family one day. The screwed up chick in a world twisted with sin and unwanted emotion. More than anything, I wanted to leave all that behind me. I wanted to start anew with my new friends here. I wanted all the things I knew I could not have.

I wanted him to love me.

"Bulma sweetie, you look lovely." Mr. Briefs said from the doorway to Bulma's bedroom. I turned to him with a half smile. If only I could believe that.

Now it was Friday evening, minutes before the party would be in full swing, and all I found myself wanting to do was curl up die. I stood numb, following Bulma's parents out the door and through the buildings to the reception hall in the East Wing.

The room was gigantic, the ceiling decorated with silver and white crepe paper, twinkling white lights surrounding them. The walls had long, white silken tapestries covering them, brushing the tiled floors. It was almost ethereal in a way. The hundreds of Capsule Corporation employees applauded when we stepped under the arched doorway and entered the hall. Mr. Briefs led his wife and I to a long table covered in a white table cloth, plates and silverware set out for us. Service bots soon arrived, pushing carts filled with food. They served each person, and I ate in silence, not really tasting anything. I was too caught up in my own thoughts. What was I supposed to do? Vegeta wouldn't talk to me, and he was far to strong to just jump. Maybe if I dressed up in a negligee... no, that wouldn't work. I'd be too disgusted with myself to even attempt that.

I was so caught in my thoughts I didn't hear Goku speaking to me.

"Bulma? Hey Bulma!"

I jumped and turned to him, a smile immediately touching my lips. Goku was in a black tuxedo, his red bow tie a little crooked.

"Well don't you look studly?"

Goku smiled and a soft blush covered his cheeks as he twisted in his suit, obviously uncomfortable.

"Where's Chichi?"

"She wasn't feeling good, so she made me come alone. Do you wanna dance?"

Again I smiled. He looked so terrified. I took his hand and he led me onto the dance floor. He put one hand on my side a little higher than you were supposed to, and took my other hand in his. We swayed to the live band that Bulma's parents had hired for the evening, and I let myself sink into the beautiful sounds of the violins and cello.

"Hey Bulma?"

"Hm?"

"I... I talked to Yamcha. He told me about what happened... at the dress shop."

I stopped my dancing and pulled back to look into his eyes.

"Do you think we could go somewhere to talk?"

I nodded slowly, took a quick look to make sure Bulma's parents didn't see me leave, and guided Goku out a side door onto a patio. I claimed a white plastic chair and held my arms around me, shivering a little from the cool night air.

Goku sat down and tugged on his bow tie, trying to figure out how he was going to word whatever he said to me.

"I've talked to Vegeta about this-"

"You what!?"

"Whoa, calm down. Don't worry. You obviously didn't care about Yamcha hitting you, so neither of us are going to do anything. What I want to know is, how long have you been here?"

"What?"

"You can't lie to me anymore. You've been different. You act different, talk different, move different. Even your scent has changed. How long have you been here?"

"Layla, he knows."

"I know.."

"Huh?"

I leaned back, pulling my knees up to my chest, not caring that the dress was wrinkling terribly. With a deep breath I spoke.

"My name is Layla Parker. I'm a 21 year old goth living in a small town working a minimum wage job at a Sub shop. I went to sleep one night, and I woke up here, in Bulma's body. I'm on a mission to get her laid by Vegeta."

Goku choked a little at my last sentence, as if he couldn't believe what I was saying.

"Have you.. succeeded?"

"No. I wouldn't be here if I had."

"Ok. Now, what happened behind the dress shop?"

I closed my eyes.

"You don't need to know about that."
"I want to know though. From what I've learned about you this past week, you're a very nice girl Layla... What happened to you?"

My eyes remained closed, and a single tear fell down my cheek.

It was time I told someone.

Time I acknowledged the skeletons in my closet.

"It was 3 years ago. I was 18 years old. Young. Stupid. It.. It was my senior year of high school, and I was having a blast. It was the first time ever in my life that I let myself believe that I didn't care what others thought about me. I was myself. I did what I wanted. I was free. Then, John came into the picture. I hadn't had a boyfriend for over two years, and I felt as though I was ready for someone. He was the typical bad boy I guess. Dark, foreboding, with a little sweetness on the side. I guess I was going through a rebellious stage or something. Anyway, my parents hated him, with good reason, though I refused to see it. He had a reputation for some pretty bad things. Drugs, violence. That sort of thing. But I didn't listen to any of it. I really believed that these rumors were false. That this sweet man couldn't possibly do those things people had said he'd done. I knew that he did drugs, but I didn't care. I thought I could change him. I thought I could help him.

Well, three months passed and things were looking up. He was going to class like he was supposed to, his grades were improving. He told me every day that I was beautiful. That I was his angel. The one thing in his life that he really loved. When he asked me to go someplace with him instead of my friends, I didn't see anything wrong with it. He was lonely and he needed someone to be there for him. So I did. It was only a few times at first, but then it turned out to be an every day thing. He would see me talking to my girlfriends, and find a reason to pull me away from them. One day he told me that I obviously didn't love him as much as he did me, since I wouldn't spend time with him. I felt guilty, so I doubled my already every day time with him.

It was early June the first time he hit me. We were just sitting in his room, and he wanted to fool around. I was so tired from being stoned that I said I didn't want to. He... he grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me off his bed. He started to kick me, telling me that he was only doing this to show me how much I always hurt him. He wanted me to feel all the pain I had caused him. He wouldn't stop until I apologized and had sex with him. It... it went on like that for 10 months.

It was on the tenth month that I finally found the courage to break up with him. I had seen him the night before, and had to wear a pair of sunglasses and a long sleeved shirt to hide the bruises. We met at the lake, him thinking that we were going to have a picnic or something. When I got out of my car, without any food, he was angry. He started yelling at me, asking me how I could be so stupid to forget the food. He said that he didn't eat anything all day, and that it was my fault he was so hungry now. I looked him straight in the eye and told him that it was over. That I wouldn't stand for his bullshit anymore.

He back handed, knocking my sunglasses off. I didn't submit like I had always done. I stood my ground and glared at him. I told him I wasn't afraid of him any more. But that didn't stop him. He hit me again. And again. I fell and he kicked me in the stomach, in the back. He kicked me so hard I was spitting up blood. I tried to crawl away from him, but he grabbed me by the hair and dragged me back, laying me on my back so he could sit on me and thrash my face. Over and over again. There was blood everywhere. So much blood....

When.. When I woke up, he was gone. My tires had been slashed and the windshield busted out. Everything around me was red. I tried to sit up, but the pain was too much. I don't know how many ribs he had broken. I managed to crawl to my car and I leaned against one of the flat tires. The sun was coming up. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life.

After that, after I had healed... I packed up my things and left... only keeping in contact with my parents and my brother. I never told anyone about it, especially them. Except Bulma, and I didn't even really tell her."

I finished my story to look at Goku. His face was pale with a green tinge to it.

"Layla... I... I'm so sorry."

I looked back down at my lap.

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault I made a stupid decision."

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

I looked back up and smiled.

"Yes. Is there a piano anywhere in that huge building?"

"Ya actually. Your... I mean, Bulma's mom ordered a piano a few years ago when she wanted to learn to play. Its in the study in the West Wing."

I stood and started back for the house, but turned back and gave Goku the strongest hug I had ever given anyone.

"Thank you Goku. For listening. And for understanding."

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**A/N: I think that was the hardest chapter I've ever had to write in my life... *sigh* memories... Anyway, this story is almost done, and I need reviews!!! Please? Pretty Please? Don't make me fall to my knees and beg darn it :P Toodles!