Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Redemption ❯ Broken ( Chapter 2 )

My eyelids flutter open. It is no longer painful to move, though my hands and feet are still bound. Blinking away sleep, I look around the room. The bright light I had noticed before seemed dimmed, though I still couldn't be sure as to where it came from. I look around the small room curiously and spot Kakarrotto asleep in a corner, slumped on the floor and leaning his upper body against a wall. My head is slightly clearer, so I notice now that he looks disheveled. His normally bright orange gi is stained with blood. I assume it to be my own. He must've carried me to… wherever we are now. His hair is unusually shiny and I realize it must be grease. He hasn't bathed in at least a week, is my guess. He seems pale and… almost skinny. Not emaciated, but thinner than I can remember seeing him. His face is the worst though. He has huge bags under his eyes, and by the tracks of clean skin running down his face, it looks like he's… been crying? He was crying?

The thing stirs once, then settles. It knows not to push me at the moment. But I can feel that it finds immense pleasure in making him cry. I shiver in disgust at having such an ugly thing inside me. Though I can't be sure if it isn't actually part of me.

I dully noted that I seem to be completely healed, but I still don't have enough strength to break free of my bindings. My stomach growls at me, demanding food. I try and ignore it, staring at the ceiling. Thinking.

Why did he want me to live so badly? It wouldn't have affected him if I were to die. Could it be that Bulma and Trunks would have been upset, so he was protecting them from pain? But what about me? What about my pain? Didn't I deserve to rest? To stop hurting?

`Coward! Coward coward, still a coward! Selfish and weak!' it gleefully sings. I groan out loud and shut my eyes, as if to shut out the thoughts bouncing grotesquely through my mind. I'm so concentrating on shutting them out I don't hear Kakarrotto wake and walk over to me. I take notice when he rests a hand on my arm. I open my eyes and look at him. He smiles gently back and opens his mouth to say something.

My stomach growls ferociously, interrupting him. He chuckles, rather forcibly, and tells me to wait here. Like I have any choice in the matter.

He comes back in carrying as many trays and platters of food as he can. One is perched precariously on his head. He sets them all down carefully and then kneels next to me, removing the bed sheets from over my body. I notice then that I'm shirtless, but thankfully still have my pants. The last thing I need is Kakarrotto getting an eyeful.

The thought flees from my mind when he carefully touches my stomach, barely making contact. It tickles, but I'll be damned if I admit it. Then I remember: I already am damned. Too late for that now. So instead of telling him to stop, I allow him to continue tracing my abs, looking for any remnants of my self-inflicted wound. Finally satisfied after a few moments, he reaches to untie my hands. My interest is peaked, but he stops above my right hand and looks me straight in the eyes.

He has his serious face on now.

"Vegeta," he begins. "I want you to promise… no, swear that if I untie your hands, you won't try to kill yourself. And you have to mean it!"

I stare at him blankly. Finally, after a moments pause, I speak.

"Why?" I ask. He grabs my wrist forcefully, but not hard enough to be painful.

"Because! I already told you why! I don't want you to die!"

"Why?"

"Be… because…" he glances at the floor, then back up to my face. "I really like you Vegeta. I… don't want you to hurt."

Something in me flares up suddenly.

"Than let me die already!" I howl. "If you care about me so much and want me to stop being in pain, let me die!"

Abruptly my mini tirade is halted by a warm body being crushed up against mine and arms encircling me. He burrows his face into my shoulder as best he can.

"No," he half whispers, half whimpers.

And yet again, my strong will faded away and I let him use me as a pillow. Or was it a plush animal to hug onto? Either way, it doesn't matter. I would have let him use me any way he liked.

After a moment, he pulls away.

"Promise?" he pleads. I nod. If he wishes for me to live, then that's what I'll do. I have nothing left for myself, no me anymore. So he can have me as his plaything for as long as he wishes. I'll live for his pleasure alone, because I can have none of my own. Might as well. I've nothing else to do, and he's made it apparent he's not going to let me die.

My thoughts start running wild again. Maybe he'll be a good master. Maybe he'll be gentle with me and treat me like a pampered pet, though I know I don't deserve that. But he doesn't have to know, does he? But I would be content if he simply fed me on a regular basis. Well, not really. I'd rather have died in the first place, but that was out of the question now. Kakarrotto wants me to live, and I… I exist only for someone else's happiness.

At the moment, that is only slightly better than death's peaceful sleeping.

He unties my hands and helps me sit up. Apparently, I am still too weak to even push my body off the bed.

Keeping one eye trained on me, making absolutely sure I do not break my promise, he brings a couple trays over to the bed and sets one on my lap, the other next to the bed.

Before I can pick up the utensils, he does. Confused, I open my mouth to question him, but it is promptly filled full of food. Ah. I see. He wants to feed me. Very well then. I will allow him to. Again, I remind myself that I have no choice in the matter anyway. Swallowing, I open my mouth again and he shoves more food inside it.

After about 5 platefuls of this, I refuse to eat any more, much to his displeasure. I do not mean to make him upset… but I am beginning to suspect that he has not eaten either. And I tell him so.

Grimly, he nods. Sighing in defeat, he voraciously digs into a platter of food, then another and another… but he in turn refuses the last tray of food. I protest, saying that he needs it because he is still not full. I also say that he needs more sleep; he still looks pale and tired, though it has improved since when I first noted it.

But then he uses that same dirty tactic he used before with the water. Shoving food in his mouth and pretending to eat it, then pouncing me when my guard is down and forcing it into my mouth through his own. I try to push it back into his, but he will not have it. Growling, he uses more force, making it clear that he will make me eat whether I want to or not. I give in and take the pre-chewed food without protest. I do not even flinch when he repeats the process until the plate is cleared. Though I know that he knows I will feed myself now.