Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ HIStory and HERstory ❯ Falls Apart ( Chapter 3 )

AN: It's `bout gadem time for an update. I had been preoccupied with my OJT all throughout May; so I had to set aside writing until I get with it. So, without further ado, here it is: HIStory and HERstory.

Thanks Susan, You've been great.

WARNING: Very, Very, Very Emotional Installment straight ahead; it's from a woman for crying out loud.

By experience, I know women are emotional EVEN without their bags of problems.

Anyway my brothers, we love `em still.

Chapter Three: Falls Apart

Considering what she had been through, the emotional Chernobyll was more than thankful for the computerized doors. All that stood in the way of that sanctuary of hers is the security console attached to the impressive titanium doors. After a quick rummaging in her Prada purse for that electronic card key, she slid it into the console straight away.

A period of waiting…

And waiting…

Her tapping foot matched with Vegeta-ish crossed arms are the more than obvious indicators that she is not a happy camper.

"ACCESS DENIED." A wooden recording beckoned from the console.

"Huh?!" It was all I could say even with my wide vocabulary. Normally, I would be raining down booming curses at the uncooperative thing with my Vegeta-specific vocabulary but this is not the time. Time, I don't have the luxury of it. I have to get in - now.

Spiteful digits pulled the rejected sliver of plastic, then brought it to her scrutinizing eyes. Well aware of the massive clouds dulling the brilliance of the star spangled sky, she still pushed through with the inspection.

"You don't have night vision you know?" I mumble with much annoyance to no other than myself. Then, I remember one minor detail: I'm a smoker.

My free hand rummages my purse for that lighter of mine.

"Got it!" I exhale with much relief. With exuberance I reserve for those routine verbal spars, I flick the cap over and press it to light.

A small crimson flame illuminated right before her - for a very brief time that is. The same harsh winds that echoed her resolve ganged up on that flame of hope.

Frustration.

"EAT THIS!" I forcefully shove my card key into the repugnant console's mouth. Desperate times calls for desperate measures, so they say.

"Ooh… I hope you choke!" Came the finishing touch.

"Stupid human contraptions!" Is it just me, or did I just sound like HIM? `Uh-oh…' This time, I thank my idle hands for clamping my mouth SHUT.

"ACCESS GRANTED."

"Thank You!" Whatever my voice is loaded with, sarcastic sincerity or sincere sarcasm, I don't muse over it. I only care about the doors parting in front of me. After my Manolo Blahniks carry me inside, the steel doors slid closed behind me, punctuated by the reverberation of an eerie thud. The dim surroundings doesn't bother me, just a slight inconvenience.

I'm home.

I allow myself a moment of relief though the backless number I don doesn't save my back from the cold touch of the steel doors I am pressed against. `Time …'

"…TIME!" I am entitled to voice my concern tad frantically!

"TIME: 1:45 am, SATURDAY." Came the answer in the all too familiar wooden voice.

"CAPSCOMP, increase Security Protocol to Level 3." `Earth to Bulma, nothing on this planet can bypass CC's security system except you and your dear `ol dad.' I kept reassuring myself with that piece of information. The truth is, I just don't feel safe…

"AFFIRMATIVE, MAXIMUM SECURITY ENGAGED."

… anywhere anymore.

"Then why do I bother going there? It's pointless!" A moment of indecisiveness creeps. I stop dead on my tracks.

"Right…"…………………& #8230;………………………… ;…………………………R 30;…………………………&# 8230;…………………

`Just go.' Floated in my null mind. For once, all these inner voices made a unanimous decision.

With that thought in mind, she straightened herself up and proceeded to the accomplishment of her prerogative. Not bothering to knock, she presses the bronze latch and nudged the door open with quite gentle ferocity. She Paused. Hesitation? Fear? Not even Kami-sama knows why. She entered. Turning around for one last glimpse of the pin-drop-silence, her determined hand swung the door closed to the outside world. She is in her own world now, none of those prying eyes, the only place she would rather be.

She dropped what remains of her defenses, thus removing that carefully crafted seal over these unresolved - and perhaps unwanted - emotions raging beyond her control. Only there will she let herself be swarmed by that bewildering cyclone. Needless to say, she will reckon with that long due confrontation with her own self. She waged a valiant fight worthy of anyone's respect be it human or not. So long and hard it took to erect - much more sustain - her what seemed like infallible barricade. Yet in an instant, it all came crashing down. The irony of it all, for in her private safe haven will she fathom the meaning of that four-letter-word: P-A-I-N.

She felt EVERYTHING.

I face the equally tortured soul. `It's `bout time we get this over and done with!' My unadulterated HATRED for this creature eclipsed the FEAR rocketing my entire being to oblivion.

"It's over." It was meant to be a question really, but I can't allow this apprehension saturate my voice. I am feeling everything all at once and it's DRIVING ME CRAZY! Of all people, I can't let YOU see ME this weak. Do YOU understand? This is a losing battle but I…I…I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO! Please, tell me what I want to hear? NO! TELL ME THE… truth. Our eyes locked on each other.

"It's over." PERIOD.

"It's over." EXCLAMATION POINT!

Bitter-Sweet Truth, that is what I got.

Alas, I fall apart. And so does she - my reflection.

"GO AWAY!" I avert my eyes from the TRUTH staring at me. But there is no escape. Everywhere I turn, smooth mirrors walled on the four corners of my - supposed - sanctuary bombard me with that god-awful woman. Try as I might, I can never ever deny that we are one. I put a halt to this neurotic dance traversing every nook and cranny of this mental asylum. I let my waist-length locks save me from the sight of the pitiful tortured soul reflected from every angle. My body contorts into a ball of anguish on the polished marble tiles.

"Why?" Came the question everyone asks.

"I don't want to fight anymore…" There is so much more to say. My strength had dissipated. My indomitable spirits abandoned me. I surrender to all these emotions tearing me inside out. `How do you open the flood gates of your soul?' That inward inquisition hushed all these damn nagging voices bellowing my consciousness with a swarm of unsolicited nonsense.

NONSENSE!

Then why does it hurt…"this much?" Cringing ever tighter, I allow myself to be engulfed by loneliness, hatred, fear, and… and… WHATEVER!

"W H A T E V E R ! ! !" `…is wrong with me?"

Shit! Shit! Shit! "S H I T!!!" A good bad-mouthing was all the catalyst I needed in erupting this volcanic rage from my system - It invigorated me somewhat also. In a heavy breath, I begin exhaling the tension away.

Like a possessed blender, my head continues swirling in frenzy. Well aware of it, I stubbornly unfurl from this pose of despair and make a last-ditch effort to gain my balance and stand up.

"…" The bathroom floor reuniting with my face piped down whatever I was about to say.

With angry hands, I prop myself up then immediately do a quick physical check-up hoping there are no new additions to the still fresh cuts and bruises. Satisfied with the damage report, I begin shaking the dirt off…

"… MY $5,000 DRESS!" My chiffon dress gets marred with all that gooey filth sticking on the damp floor.

"DAMN YOU VE…" `…geta?'

NO!

You're not the one to blame, "I am!" As convenient as it is to vent this colossal misery on you, I won't. You're the only one I've got remotely close to my knight-in-shining-armor - whoever he may be. This only means one thing: If E.T. - Evil Troll - is the best I can `do', then I might as well dig my own grave and do him the favor of burying this `Baka Oona' alive.

Determined to stand, I give everything into one last try. On wobbly legs, I stride towards the bathtub. Destination reached, my exhausted hands zero-ed in on the silver shower knob. Satisfied, a genuine smile fleetingly passes. Then, my no longer fabulous self collapsed in disarray on the ceramic tub.

`My lids close. Everything fades into the pitch-black void, yet there I find no reprieve. Cool droplets cascading down on my now soaked clad body wash away the impurities clinging to me.

"If only I could wash away them all," `…the impurities of my soul.'

Like in eruptions of the geological kind, her spewing of emotional debris is not the end, but the beginning of something more cataclysmic: the delicate and tricky process of coming to terms with what used to be hidden bits and pieces of her. Either she pulls them in a warm embrace or pushes them away like the plague, whichever force she sets her heart and mind on, One thing is for sure: she will never be the same again.

AN: I am going to finish this, even if not many people are paying attention to it. I know. I am taking this agonizingly slow. Bear with me people! THANK YOU, for reading!