Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Hope Leaves ❯ Spiders ( Chapter 4 )

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

This chapter... we finally find out what's happened to Trunks. Vegeta on the other hand begins to wonder if he's trapped in the past and becomes increasingly desperate to find his way back into reality. Warning: disturbing violence/abuse

Bulma looked down anxiously into her son's face, not caring about the tears on her own. It had been hours now but Trunks was finally waking up.

'Thank God you're awake!' She cried, making his ears ring. He felt sick. She fell down beside him and threw her arms around him, squeezing as tight as she could. Then she pulled him into an upright position and started slapping him across the arms and chest.

'You've been gone three days, I've had no idea where you were, and then suddenly I find you passed out on the couch! I've been trying to wake you up for hours, I was about to take you to the hospital! Do you know how scared I was?! Do you?! Answer me!'

'Mom, stop it... my head hurts...'

'And who's fault is that Mr? I want you to tell me right now what you've been up to. You better have a very good reason for putting me through what you have the last few days.'

Trunks groaned, knowing she wouldn't leave him alone until he told her something. He could see his little sister standing in the doorway behind Bulma, holding one of her many dolls.

'You're in trou-ble,' she said to him in a cheeky sing song voice.

'Get back to your room right now young lady,' Bulma snapped. The little girl's lip trembled as she turned away to walk back down the hall to her room, and while both of them could hear her start to cry neither went to comfort her.

'Well lets hear it,' Bulma pressed, eyeing her son angrily. So Trunks began to tell her, taking care to leave out anything he thought would result in serious punishment, which was essentially everything that had happened. He had to use his confabulation skills to create a believable story, skills that were well polished by this time in his life from years of bullshitting his way out of the consequences of any trouble he caused. He gave Bulma one of his charming smiles as he relayed one story but recalled another. The memories were mostly fond, until his father became involved at least. A dark shadow passed over his eyes just thinking about it...

...3 days earlier...

Bulma stood in the kitchen with her mother who was flipping pancakes and babbling cheerfully about how well her roses had done this season. She was in the process of drying out buds and petals at the moment for one of the elaborate craft projects she liked to busy herself with, which would probably be another overly floral wreath or wall hanging to add to the hundred others lying around. Bulma wasn't really listening though, being too busy wondering why her son was taking so long to get out of bed. As if he'd heard her thoughts, Trunks appeared in doorway where she could just see him from the corner of her eye.

'Morning everyone.'

'Good morning Trunks. Though it'll be afternoon by the time you get to class,' Bulma huffed.

'No class today remember mum? Long weekend,' he countered.

'Right,' she sighed, clapping her hand over her forehead. 'Sorry Hun I completely forgot.' As she turned to look at Trunks she noticed someone standing behind him and nearly dropped her coffee.

'Oh,' she stammered. 'Hello... when did you get here? Trunks, you didn't tell me you were having any visitors.'

'Sorry,' Trunks laughed. 'I pretty much just let her in the door now. It was kind of last minute so I didn't have time to let you know. This is Brie by the way. She's a friend of mine.'

A skinny girl in a very short green dress adorned with a name tag stepped out from behind Trunks and smiled, extending her hand to Bulma, who couldn't help but stare at the shock of long, white hair that flowed down to her bony hips. Her angular face was a pale pink colour with cheeks so deeply flushed they were almost red, like she'd been running. Except it was obvious that she hadn't.

'I'm honored to meet you Ms Briefs. I'm a big fan of you're work. I'm hoping to get into engineering myself if I do well enough this year.'

'I'm sure you will if you work hard enough. Speaking of work, is that you're uniform? If you don't mind me asking.' Bulma smiled, looking into the girl's almond shaped eyes, deep green like her dress.

'Yes actually. I work in a clothing store. Tree of Life-'

'Listen mum,' Trunks cut in, 'I just wanted to let you know that I'm going out to this, uh, event. It's sought a nearby, and yeah. We probably won't be back till late tomorrow night-'

'Whoa, slow down. Where is it you're going? And why am I only just hearing about it now?'

'Well like I said it was all kind of last minute. Its just outside the city, in the direction of Goten's house. Him and Valese are going too. Everyone's sought a going hiking through the mountains then we're going to have a gathering, a few drinks and what not. Nothing huge, OK?'

'Um, OK, bur why won't you be back till tomorrow night? Will you even be home for dinner?'

'Uh...maybe. Anyway, gotta run. Love you mum, see ya.'

'Wait, Trunks, hang on-' she began to say, but he'd already grabbed Brie's hand and bounded out the door. She sighed as Bra looked up at her from where she was sitting at the table and stuffing pancakes into her mouth.

'Well I guess its going to be a girl's night,' Bulma's mother beamed. 'How exciting!'

'Very,' Bulma grumbled. 'All these boys do is drive me nuts anyway. I don't know where either of them are now...'

'I want daddy to be here,' Bra whined.

'Well, he isn't. He hasn't been feeling well lately so he's gone out of the city to... get a bit of fresh air. And I don't want to hear you complaining about it all day Hun. You can complain to him when he gets back. Who knows, maybe he'll listen.'

Bra scowled at her.

'Please Bra, don't give me that look. Just eat. I know how much you love your pancakes,' she said tiredly but with a sly grin on her face.

'We're going to have a lot of fun today pumpkin. You can help me make my new wreath!' Bulma's mother chirped, trying to create a diversion. 'You wanna help your grandma don't you beautiful? Now wipe away that frown-'

'NO!' the little girl cried defiantly, dramatically overturning her plate and running from the room. Bulma gazed after her in defeat.

…

Trunks was too preoccupied to really be keeping track of the time. 'Late tomorrow afternoon' when he'd promised to return home had come and gone about a day ago now. He lay on his stomach in a mossy alcove worn down into the face of a rocky cliff. Brie lay under him. The warm autumn sunlight of the day had heated the rocks and everything else in the landscape, which wasn't dense enough to block out its rays. In the dead of night, that warmth still lingered. Strong, earthy smells of the forest rose into into the air around them, permeating their hair and skin. Brie's own scent drifted from her naked skin to curl around him like fragrant incense.

'We should get back to the others soon, don't you think?' She murmured, running her tongue lightly along the side of his neck.

'Shhh. They won't come looking. Let's just stay a little longer. Half an hour,' he pleaded, pressing his lips against hers before she could answer him, tasting her tongue with his own. Slender legs wrapped around his waist while long fingernails dug into the back of his neck, cutting deep enough to draw blood which trailed down along the curve of his throat to drip onto hers. Burrowing his face into her wild mess of white hair he entered her roughly, drinking in the sound of her gasp. He growled deeply in response, lowering his lips to her flushed throat and biting down till her blood mingled with his own.
An energy like fire encircled them as their bodies moved rhythmically, growing more violent as the anticipation heightened. There would be bruises and cuts in the aftermath, but neither of them cared. The only thing that existed in their minds was now.

After they had dressed, Brie reached out for a small plastic snap-lock bag lying on the ground. She opened it and dipped her pointer into the white powder within. When she withdrew her finger a line of the substance was perched on its ridge.

'You want a little more?' She offered, holding her finger up to his face. He inhaled, then lay back against the walls of the alcove, basking in the euphoric sensations that coursed through him.

'Trunks...' she whispered, sounding worried. He waved her off with a flick of the hand.

'We'll go soon I swear-'

'It's not that Trunks. Listen. I think someone's here. Up above.'

'Huh...' He muttered in irritation, trying to see through the haze of the high and focus on what she was saying. About five seconds later he sat bolt upright.

'Fuck! Brie, climb down and hide, right now.'

'What, why? What's wrong?'

'Hurry! I think my dad's here, go!'

He watched her scamper with surprising agility down the rocky cliff face. It was only a few minutes before he saw his father's silhouette in the entrance to the alcove. Vegeta didn't say hello, simply rolled his eyes and turned away.

'I don't know what you've been up to out here for the past three days, but you've got you're
mother worried. You should have been home yesterday. Now get up, we're leaving.'

'How would you know, you weren't there,' Trunks mumbled under his breath, mistakenly thinking his father wouldn't hear. Vegeta spun around to face him with the intention of giving the boy a piece of his mind when he noticed something lying on the ground.

'What?' Trunks shrugged, following his father's gaze. Shit... he thought. Brie didn't take it with her?!

Vegeta shoved him aside, leaning down to pick up the bag and examine it.

'And what is this?' he said quietly.

'Nothing.'

'Oh really?'

'Yeah...' Trunks said, looking away from his father's scrutinising stare.

'Look at me,' Vegeta demanded. 'Look me in the eye.'

'Why? Dad, let's just go, OK? I'm sorry I didn't get home on time. I'll apologise to mum-'

'Don't change the subject!' he shouted, grabbing his son by the shoulders and pushing him roughly against the walls of the alcove. This threatening gesture had the desired effect- Trunks just stared at him, wide eyed and open mouthed.

'You took this, didn't you?' he held up the bag.

'Not that much of it. We were just having bit of fun. You don't even know what it is anyway,' Trunks replied, regaining his composure and pushing his father away. 'Don't overreact. And don't grab me.'

His father just laughed. 'It is you who doesn't know what this is. If you knew you wouldn't be foolish enough to touch it. Do you have any idea what this could do to your mind? What you could do when you're on it, with your strength?'

'Oh come on dad!' he rolled his eyes. 'What do you think I'm gunna do, lose my mind and blow up West city? We had a little bit for fun, OK? It's just for every now and then, no harm done. And anyway if you know what it is you've obviously had some before yourself so don't get on me about it. Since when do you care what I do anyway?' Sounding pleased with himself, Trunks jumped from the entrance of the alcove and flew down. To his surprise a hand latched onto his wrist firmly the moment he touched the ground.

'Don't you dare speak to me that way,' his father hissed through gritted teeth. 'And don't *ever* turn your back on me.'

'Or what? What are you going to do? You can't speak to *me* like this, I'm not a child any more!'

Enraged by his son's outright disrespect, something which was completely uncharacteristic of the boy, Vegeta raised a hand and backhanded him, sending him sprawling across the forest floor. For some time Trunks didn't get up or look up which was somewhat worrying. He hadn't used that much force, not enough to do serious damage that was for sure. Or had he? Distracted by this confusing thought, he reacted just a little too late when Trunks came flying at him unexpectedly. Within seconds they were on the ground, fighting and clawing at each other like rabid animals, but Vegeta quickly regained the upper hand and pinned the livid boy down, holding the plastic bag up to those wide blue eyes.

'*This* is the crutch of the weak!' he spat with disdain, emptying the contents of the bag so that it blew away carelessly with the breeze. Once again he became distracted, but this time by a loud noise from somewhere behind them much like a small explosion. Trunks used this opportunity to drive a knee into his father's ribs, almost hard enough to break them. The pain was unexpected but Vegeta, well used to this sought of thing, didn't let it slow him down a moment too long and delivered a sharp blow to the side of Trunk's head, knocking him out instantly.

Rising slowly he clutched at his aching side and let out a string of curses. At least nothing was actually broken. He would have liked to give Trunks a good thrashing, but in the state of mind both of them were presently in the chances of someone sustaining a serious injury were higher than usual. It was some time before Vegeta calmed down just enough to remember the reason he'd come here in the first place, and hoisting Trunks up and over a shoulder he flew off in the direction of West City, his mind swimming in rage.

Of course Trunks remembered neither this nor anything else that had happened after he'd been knocked out, only the impact of that final blow, then waking up to the sight of his mother's worried, tear stained face. He'd told her the most believable thing that came to mind- his dad had gotten angry over a crushed smoking herb which he'd mistaken for hard drugs and gone nuts about it. She seemed to be buying this fairly pathetic tale, however is she wasn't so distracted (and enraged) by the fact Vegeta had struck him then knocked him out, she very likely wouldn't have.

Whatever. As far as he was concerned, his father really had overreacted; it wasn't that big a deal! All his friends did some on occasion. Everyone with money did it, everyone famous did it. Only some of them became celebrity crack heads, and he'd never be one of those. How could his father even imply that? Just because he used to be a violent psycho... Bulma was ranting on angrily but Trunks heard none of it, being preoccupied thinking about what a temperamental hypocrite his father was, along with a million other bitter musings. Little did he know just what was going on with his father at that very moment. If he had, he just may have regretted those thoughts.

***

*Vegeta's POV (thought I should specify in case this is getting confusing)*

The room is dimly lit by a weak ceiling bulb and the gleaming elements of a heater in the corner, their red glow creating vast, ugly patterns on the walls that mingle with the shadows. I smell a very familiar scent of sweat which tells me instantly who it is that holds me, a scent so familiar it's as if I only saw Recoome yesterday, but one couldn't forget that awful smell in a hundred years. He never showered as often as he should have. Though I can't see him, I sense that Jeice is in the room before he walks out from behind some cupboards.

'Oh good, you're 'ere. We'd been meanin' to talk to ya about today,' he says, a lazy smile spreading across his face.

'Uh huh,' Recoome adds, 'and you know why, don't you Veggie-Chan? You ought to be in a lot of trouble.'

I haven't got the faintest clue about what today and anything associated with it means so I couldn't explain it to save myself. All I know is that there is a strange feeling in my gut, a metallic taste in my mouth, and the patterns on the walls are oddly voracious; coming alive with lurid colours and movement.

'Now, today when we suggested to Frieza that perhaps, um, whatever planet it was he wanted done might be a little more work than it's worth, an you piped up an said you'd be fine to take on the assignment...'

'You made us look like cowards-' Recoome interrupts.

'But-' Jeice continues. 'We just wanted you to know that ya better watch that mouth next time. That's all. Don't look so worried.' The note of insincerity in his voice does not escape me.

Recoome drops me unceremoniously to the floor where I land ungracefully on my backside. Jeice saunters over and sits behind me. I turn nervously to look at him only to notice that his pupils are huge, like glazed ebony moons obscuring the green valleys of his irises. Staring into them I have the strongest feeling of dejavu- this is happening now, but it has happened before. Something inside screams at me to run, to not trust them because they are lying and something terrible is about to happen, but when I try to move my limbs do not respond, as if I am paralysed.

'So anyway, now you're here I got a great trick I wanna show ya. Watch me,' Jeice says excitedly, and just like that he lights his lighter and holds the flame up against his shoulder, letting it blaze way at the skin without even flinching The sickening smell of flesh burning fills my nostrils as I watch the gruesome sight, unable to tear my eyes away. He giggles at the burn which is spreading into his skin, the giggles becoming peals of laughter as it turns deep red, then black around the edges, and finally off white at the centre like the skin of raw chicken. A disgusting, blistered crater covered in a slimy film is forming. Recoome is clapping his hands with glee and snorting.

'Jeice...' I whisper, horrified.

'See how tough I am? I can withstand fire without showin' any pain. See I'm still holding it up there an I ain't even sweatin. That there's third degree burns',' he brags, holding a cigarette up and lighting it with the same flame. Then he drops the lighter and takes a drag, blowing the smoke into my face. It makes me cough. 'Now we're gunna have a little contest. How long you reckon I went ey Recoome?'

'Uhh... 3 minutes, 3 minute!'

'It was longer, but good work anyway big guy. So basically,' he states, cigarette in mouth as he takes another two cigarettes from his pocket and lights them with the one he's smoking, ' if you can go more than three minutes without screaming, you win.' He hands Recoome the lighter and cigarettes and grasps my shoulders with his hands, pulling them down roughly so that I'm lying on my back looking up at him. My paralysis lifts suddenly and I try to push myself back up but his palms press down painfully hard and his fingers dig into the soft spaces between the bones. Were I to struggle too much my shoulders would probably dislocate.

'Now don't move. An remember, shhhh,' he giggles. One of Recoome's hands yanks at the waist of my pants, tearing the fabric with ease and pulling them down. He sits on my legs and stubs two of the smouldering cigarettes into the exposed skin of my upper thigh. I gasp and Recoome covers my mouth and nose with his hand so that I can barely breath.

'Uh, uh, uh, you'll lose little one,' he chides, a sadistic grin on on his misshapen face. Deep, searing pain sends its way through the layers of my skin, intensifying the longer it burns. I try to wriggle out of their grip but it's useless, I'm firmly pinned down. I don't know how long it goes on for or how many cigarettes they light, all I'm aware of is the pain and the complete powerlessness to stop it. I can feel my flesh wither away After a while I realise that I'm not being held down or burnt any longer, though the pain hasn't lessened much. Time seems to be expanding and contracting, skipping like a scratched CD so that I've no idea how much of it has passed in the haze of cigarette smoke and shock. Waves of feeling wash over me one after another, numbness, anger, fear, but I can't hang on to anything long enough to process it properly. It's now becoming clear that something beyond the obvious is very wrong. I try to focus on what is in front of me. Unfortunately it turns out to still be Recoome.

'Did you enjoy the contest Veggie?' he coos at me, ruffling my hair with mocking affection. 'You still did very well, even though you lost.'

I growl at him, unable to stop myself.

'Now now, that's enough of that. You're supposed to be a monkey, not a dog.'

I let out a cry of rage and fling myself at him, catching him off guard and knocking his huge bulk to the ground. My fists are hammering into him uncontrollably when he regains his composure and throws me off. Usually the force of the shove would be nothing to me, but in this weakened form it sends me flying into the opposite wall. Before I even have time to pick myself up he's on top of me shouting something angrily in an abnormally deep, distorted voice, one enormous hand locked around my throat in an agonising grip. The hand squeezes so tightly it feels as though the bones will snap. My air supply and circulation are completely cut off, my chest grows tighter and tighter with every second the hand continues to strangle. I claw at it, slashing his skin with my fingernails but it's completely useless. The corners of my vision begin to go dark as I feel my legs wrenched apart.

***

Vegeta tried to open his eyes but everything remained in darkness. The sensible thing to do would be to stand up, but for some illogical, undefinable reason it felt like that was impossible and he began to crawl around on hands and knees, feeling his way forward. The ground began to give way to icy liquid at some point, and everything came back into focus, including his own reflection now visible in the dark mirror of the lake, it's waters covering his shaking hands. Deep, ugly bruises were spread in a band around his throat, the large finger marks clearly visible. Horrified, he pulled up one of the legs of his pants, searching for the burns. All the skin showed were scars, yes they were from cigarette burns but they had been there for years and years, though most of the time he purposely ignored them, taking great pains to forget how they got there. But some things you never forget.

Numerous flashes what happened that night came rushing back to him. The memory was as clear as cloudless, sunny day, or at least most of it was. He could even recall sitting in the corner of the room staring blankly at the wall the next morning, trying to ignore the constant ache of his thigh and several other places. Jeice had been sitting by the cupboard, dabbing at the hideous burn he'd given himself the previous night and hissing in pain through his teeth, intermittently snapping at Recoome.

'I can't believe you didn't stop me. We could get in so much shit for this,' he whined. 'Don't tell anyone what we done Vegeta, ya hear? Or we'll get in trouble for bein' reckless, or something. Just don't say nothin'.'

'But you said you wanted to do what we did,' Recoome had cut in, unable to comprehend why he was being blamed. 'That's what you wanted to do. You said so yourself.'

'Of course I did, I was off my head wasn't I? Y' know how I get when I get a bit carried away with the- oh never mind! Do I do this normally? Do I? Is this what I usually do for fun? Don't listen to me when I get like that! Jeez you're a twat sometimes, ya really are.' He hissed again, letting out a small whimper, then mumbled, 'Shit for brains,' under his breath.

Recoome stared at Jeice looking a little hurt, but offering no comment. At about this point Vegeta had wandered off to his room, and neither of them seemed to notice, too busy arguing over who's fault it had all been. He'd gone to bed and stayed there for two days, getting up only to go to the bathroom, not even to the dining room to eat, choosing instead to just lie there and brood. Feeling weak and pathetic because he'd wanted to kill them but didn't even have the strength to stop them, he'd simply traced patterns in the bedsheets. Which would be sweeter, revenge, or death? At that point in his life, it had become really hard to choose. Anything would have been better than the weir of emptiness that was growing within where the slowly drowning feelings had once been, like a river gradually flowing into the sea.

Vegeta began to massage his temples, as if that would somehow shut out these dismal thoughts. He simply couldn't keep thinking about all this, or he really would go mad. He rubbed his neck.

'I must have done this to myself,' he muttered, disgusted and disturbed at the prospect of having done something so utterly mad. Almost unable to believe it, he rolled up the other pant leg only to find it was stuck to his thigh. Sighing in irritation he ripped the fabric away impatiently, which sent an unexpected shock of pain through his nerves. Blinking several tines he stared at his leg in disbelief, the skin sprinkled with fresh circular burns, their shiny red craters like tiny gaping mouths, laughing at him, mocking him.


Next time: Things go downhill rapidly as Vegeta wanders deeper and deeper into the maze of madness that has descended on him. What he doesn't realise is that there are other forces at play here, even darker than his own memories. Meanwhile, Bulma becomes increasingly afraid, not only of what could possibly have happened to her husband, but of some strange happenings at Capsule Corp.