Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Orange Star High School ❯ Murder on My Mind ( Chapter 5 )

WARNING!! AUCHTANG!!! This chapter contains violent imagery, very very violent, and very very disturbing imagery. I am not kidding. This disturbs me, and I wrote it.

I've marked off the parts with double asterisks (**), and hopefully I've italicized them as well. While these portions are a part of the overall plot, they are not necessary to understand the story as it continues. So those of you who are squeamish, I encourage you just to skip over those parts.

Chapter Five: Murder on My Mind

**Blood slipped through his fingers. He enjoyed the slick oily feel of the red liquid on his skin. A tongue came out to lick away a bead of the substance from his upper lip. He found he enjoyed the salty taste… it was like sucking on a penny.

He lay before him, gasping for air that would serve no use to his ruined lungs. A vicious grin curled about his face as he saw the pain on the other man's face. He was finally suffering. He was finally getting retribution for all that the bastard had done to him.

He crouched down beside the man, laughter beginning to rise up in his throat. He clutched the slippery knife in his hand, and with a quick jerk, slit it across the dying man's throat. The blood splashed his front and face, and the muffled giggles turned to full-throated shrieks of laughter.

He sucked on his bloodied fingers, adrenaline urging him to continue the massacre. It wasn't any fun, however, now that the victim was dead. Perhaps he should not so quickly have granted mercy.

He gathered up the mop and bucket and began to clean up the mess. It would be very bad to leave a mess. If he left a mess they'd only find him quicker, and finding him too quickly would mean he couldn't finish his work, and only bad boys didn't finish what they started.

One down, and so many to go. There was no rest for the wicked; and he most certainly was wicked.

Once the mopping had been done, he leaned down once more to the familiar corpse, and kissed it on the cheek.

"Nighty-night, step-father."**

***(-I-)**(-I-)***

Late summer had changed into its fall wardrobe, and soon it was putting on its mittens and snowcap.

Bulma entwined her fingers with Yamucha's, smiling at her boyfriend of three months. The handsome baseball player had gotten over his nervousness and now they were having fun doing typical boyfriend and girlfriend activities.

Bulma realized she probably didn't love him as anything more as a friend, and she had the feeling it was the same for Yamucha. They were friends with the benefits of make outs and occasional sex. They were convenient for each other.

She supposed, given time, that she could learn to love him. They got along well; the physical attraction was there…

High School romance, however, was not meant to be serious, she reminded herself, as she reached up to peck Yamucha on the cheek. High School itself was all about fun, the occasional fuck, and cramming for a miscellaneous exam.

***(-I-)**(-I-)***

"I had a test next period, you know." Juuhachi scowled.

"Shut up, you're just pissed because I thought of this first."

"Curse you."

The twins pulled up to Orange Star High School's crowded parking lot. Their lunch period was starting, giving Juuhachi and Juunana the perfect opportunity to steal Vegeta away as the crowds flooded the halls.

Using one of the unmanned side entrances they entered the building just as the bell rang. They entered the throng of students, searching for Vegeta in the mess. Finding him was a problem, as he was shorter than most of the people in the crowd, and his black clothes were as good as combat camouflage fatigues in the mass of people.

"What are you doing here?" Someone snapped, and they both turned to see Vegeta glaring at them.

"Perfect, our kidnap victim came to us." Juunana smirked.

Vegeta frowned. "I have a test."

"No, you don't. I checked Orange Star's homework page, not a one of your classes has a test notice."

Vegeta scowled. Juunana noticed that Vegeta had lost weight, lots of it. His normally dark skin was a pale yellowish color and there were dark purple rings around his eyes almost an inch in diameter.

"You look like shit." Juuhachi said frankly, spotting the same signs her twin had.

"I haven't been sleeping." Vegeta muttered, rubbing a bony elbow. He looked dead exhausted, Juunana thought.

"C'mon, we're taking you out to eat."

"Why?"

"Because you're too scrawny, doesn't Frieza give you any cash to go buy food?"

Vegeta looked away, which was all the answer they needed.

"Anyway, its your birthday." Juunana shrugged.

Vegeta blinked at them, and a look of calculation passed on his face.

"For a math whiz, you sure are bad at calculation. It's the thirteenth of November."

"So it is…" Vegeta mumbled, a faint blush climbing onto his cheeks.

"Right, now we're going to Pizza Hogs." Juunana beamed.

"No…" Vegeta groaned. "Not there…"

"What!? You don't **like** their birthday song?" Juunana exclaimed loudly, causing several heads to turn and stare at the trio, and send Vegeta a dirty look.

Vegeta sighed.

"Let's just go."

He was too late however, because Juunana had entered the cafeteria. Juuhachi groaned and smacked her head.

"Hey everybody!" Juunana screamed as he climbed up on the table. "It's a special someone's birthday today, and I need you to help me wish him a happy birthday!"

The cafeteria began to sing `Happy Birthday', trying to pinpoint the recipient. No one spotted a furiously blushing Vegeta in the corner.

"VEGETA!" Juunana screamed at the appropriate section. After that the song drifted off and died a miserable death as people went back to their eating. Vegeta's face was bright red by that time.

"Fuckin' asshole." Vegeta snapped when Juunana came over.

"Come on you two," Juuhachi sighed, herding the two boys towards the exit.

***(-I-)**(-I-)***

** He entered the house quietly not wishing to disturb the other inhabitants of the house, who would alert his next victim.

He crept up the stairs and into the bedroom where his prey slept peacefully. He gripped the sticky knife tight in his hand as he slowly opened the door. The man in the bed slept quietly, looking so much like both his sons.

He did not deserve to die, he thought, as he slit the man's throat. They would be `inconvenient' however, and therefore they had to be disposed of. His blood poured onto the sheets, and he thought absently that it would have made an interesting painting.

He headed into the room across the hall where his true intentions for this night lay in bed.

He picked up a baseball bat from the wall and came to stand over his victim. He reached out and shook the other's shoulder, awakening him. His eyes widened in shock, before he brought the bat down with just enough force to knock the other out. This one would not die before it was time.

He pulled the duct tape out of his sack, and quickly set to securing his victim's hands and feet. The other was an excellent martial artist, who had bested him quite often. He would not best him tonight, however, because he would not accept defeat.

Once he was finished he straddled the other man's hips, and picked up the knife. He dragged the blade on the perfect skin, just deep enough to draw blood. Slowly the other roused, and gave a shout. It was most unfortunate that his house was so far from any neighbors who could hear.

"Hello," He smiled, realizing how disturbing it must have looked with all the blood on his face. He leaned down and caught the other's lips with his. He did not use his tongue, knowing that the shock that allowed him this kiss would wear off, and very soon he'd be missing the tip of his tongue.

Almost unconsciously the blade found it's way to the boy's throat, where it sliced. The kiss mingled with blood…

The other boy was still living, however… the knife had not cut deep enough, and the other still lived…**

***(-I-)**(-I-)***

She was so weak now… she hadn't meant to get this dependent on the miracle so fast. Things worked like that in this world it seemed. Pepper and salt, for instance, were highly prized commodities. Roman soldiers had been paid in salt. Rich lords had snorted pepper to get high… and now both were found in every kitchen, and given away for practically free.

If only smack was given away as cheaply as pepper, she thought as she stared at her grandmother's locket. She'd already hocked her CD player, her sound system, her television… and this was the only remaining object that she had of value.

She could vaguely recall the old woman who had given her this locket. Grandmother Meimei had helped raise her until her death when she was four. Her mother died birthing her and father had no idea what to do with a child, and so Grandmother had stepped in, determined to `raise her right'.

She had given her this gold locket engraved with minute flowers on her deathbed, explaining that it had been passed down from mother to daughter for at least six generations…

She shouldn't just pawn something so precious…it was valuable family heirloom… her family would be so disappointed in her…

She needed a hit though… and needed it desperately. Her stomach throbbed, hungering for solid food or more smack to keep the need at bay.

She looked at the locket again, touching the tarnished patina. Everyone would be so mad at her…

However, it was foolish to attach sentiments onto an object. In twenty years where would this locket most likely be? The chain was already starting to disintegrate. There would be nothing left but dusts soon… why hang on to it? Weren't the memories more important?

She entered the pawnshop.

***(-I-)**(-I-)***

The four slices of pizza had proven too much for Vegeta, who lay in a drowsy-not-quite-sleep state on his bed. He promised Juunana and Juuhachi that he'd come up and visit them more often. The stress of choosing colleges, harassing school counselors for grades and national test scores, submitting applications, and worrying over acceptance had alone exhausted him. Walking on proverbial eggshells around his stepfather, who was getting more and more easily provoked by the day had made him a near recluse in his room.

Things had been tense recently, he could tell by his stepfather's demeanor. Most likely it was the police, they tried to bust his stepfather once and awhile. Not that they had ever succeeded. Part of him counted himself lucky on that; he didn't want to end up in a foster care system. The idea of being bounced from family to family, or living in a run-down hostel, was unappealing at best; and the added risk of perverts who liked to use the system to feed their twisted desires made it completely out of the question.

He would not have problems with his stepfather; he chided himself for the umpteenth time, if he wouldn't provoke him. It was his duty to stay at home and watch the house; he needed to be on call for his stepfather's `private' clientele. Those who were high up, and rich, to be seen hanging around a known dealer. It was not an unreasonable request. His stepfather had only asked him to perform the simple task every few months.

His anger about finding him at the club was justified also. His stepfather was merely concerned about him. He shouldn't have just thrown himself at whatever his name was (a bad sign if he couldn't remember the other man's name), his stepfather had merely beaten him to frighten him away from doing such a stupid thing ever again.

If he just were a little better…

***(-I-)**(-I-)***

The talk he'd had with Toma at the pizza parlor two months back had helped Goku tolerate Vegeta' prescence. He no longer had the urge to take his former friend by the neck and wring the life from him. He hadn't forgiven him by a long shot, and would not associate with him freely, but he could at least be in the same room with the other teen.

He realized that the other boy was, well, pathetic, and not worth the energy. He'd seen him come onto someone at a club, only to play `nervous virgin' (his mind balked at the idea of Vegeta being a virgin) as things got too intimate. He was a skank, like so many of the scantily clad girls who hung around parties held by one of the varsity boys, always so willing to do anything with anybody anywhere.

He also simply didn't have the time to fume about Vegeta's continued prescence on the Earth with college admissions coming up. He was an average student, and so his focus was less on his grade point and more on his points per game average. He knew that it would not be his brains that got him into a good college, but his court skills, and so he'd spent countless hours in both the school's and his personal weight rooms, ran miles every day, and practiced endless it seemed on the school's indoor basketball court.

Even so, it wasn't as worrisome as to what was happening with Chichi. Even when he was working out he thought of what was wrong with her, and tried, fruitlessly, to come up with a cause.

She'd lost so much weight recently that he could clearly feel her hipbone when he put an arm around her waist. Dark circles had taken up residence under her eyes, and her skin had become a pasty white instead of the light cream it had been when he'd first met her. She was always nervous now too, constantly stiff in preparation to flee. He couldn't understand why. He'd asked her if someone had threatened her, and she'd told him not to worry. He asked her constantly if something was wrong with her, and she snapped at him with more anger at each gesture of concern. She was perfectly fine, she said, he needn't be so clingy.

He just thought he was being concerned…

***(-I-)**(-I-)***

**He held his final victim down with rope to the bed. The man looked at him with no recognition. This angered him beyond the profound depths of insanity that he had previously waded in, and into something darker and uncharted. How dare he forget him!

Random sharp stabs of the knife into the other's limbs accentuated his frenzied thoughts, he stabbed nothing vital, but with the man's shrieks of agony they sounded like they should have been. The weak bastard. He had no idea what **pain** was…

"You don't remember me," He pouted, dragging the knife down his victim's cheek in a mocking lover's caress. He leaned in close to the panicked and clueless face with a leer so similar to the one the man had worn when he'd last seen him. "But I remember you."

Assured that the bonds would hold the other down, he stood and moved towards the CD player. He pressed the play button, and the CD whirred to life. He set it to repeat the same song that had played the last time he'd met with the man. The same damned song that the other had played when---

With a vicious grin he returned to his victim, his eyes dancing madly with the promise of pains far more gruesome than imaginable to most minds in the very near future.

They were the eyes of death, black and cold. His pale face now almost as white as bone, his cheeks sunken to reveal the skull beneath. He was the Grim Reaper personified. He was Thanatos, the under appreciated god of Death. He took the souls to their eternal slumber, and this one soon would so rightly join the others in Hell.**

***(-I-)**(-I-)***