Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ See through my eyes ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

It's funny how memories hit you-and always the bad ones, at least in my case. I'm laughing now to think back on it. Laughing while tears slowly slide down my wrinkled face and onto my egg white blanket. When I say memories, I don't mean remembering what I ate for breakfast -not that I can forget the mush I'm forced to eat now- and I don't mean what happened at that movie I just saw. No, these memories hit like a slap to the face and resemble as much. They're those big earthshaking memories that make me who I am. Heh, and everybody loves me.

Bull.

I have to admit, that there's a lot I've been denying and trying to forget. Admitting it to yourself is the first step right? So what, do I have a problem? Do I need a twelve step program and have to stand and pronounce to the world that I am a... But then that's the problem. I don't know myself. Some might call the way I'm laughing now scary. I call it the key to revelation. And the door, why my memories of course.

Let's go back to the beginning.

Chapter 1

I must have been six when my parents divorced, well when they broke up anyway. Turns out they were never married. My mom, a raven haired beauty with onyx eyes to match, was eight months pregnant with my sister. My dad also had black hair and was an up and coming assistant manager at some business firm. At least that's what he said -he was always secretive about his work- Whatever the fact he brought in good money and I was happy. I thought everyone was until the fights started.

When I first noticed them, my parents were trying to keep them quiet. I don't know how, but they would save all the rage and anger for night when I was supposedly asleep. I was most of the time, being a generally hard sleeper. Then one night I had to go to the bathroom. You know, when nature calls it wont be stopped and all that jazz.

Still more sleep than awake, I crawled out of my twin bed with the samurai covers and headed for the bathroom. Instead of pajamas, I wore one of my dad’s cotton shirts. The sleeves were too long and had been rolled up while the shirt itself almost reached my heels. I was about to go into the bathroom when I hear hurried and angry sounding whispers coming from my parents room -there room was right across the hall.

My curious nature overruled my bladder then, so I walked over to their room and pushed it open some. The door hadn't been closed completely and my dad was completely anal about "house noise." All the doors were constantly oiled and any squeaky floorboards were replaced immediately. Even the dishwasher and clothes washer and dryer ran silently. Because of that they didn't hear when I poked my head in.

I didn't hear much except my name once or twice when my mom would say, "Think about Yamcha, or Gyoza" (that was to be my sisters name) after a while I got bored and decided to go to the bathroom and then back to bed. I think the toilet flushing, and the sink running to wash my hands stopped their fussing that night.

If the sound of water could have stopped their fussing then, then a few weeks later not even a marching band could have stopped their yelling or even drowned it out either. Once I heard my mom yelling about how she knew dad was in the "army" and he would yell back that the "RR" was good for the family. Other times they would argue about trust. My dad in particular kept accusing my mom of cheating. She would just go and point the finger back.
I understood nothing of what they were saying then and only wanted to arguing to stop. Soon after dad left, I forgot all about the army or at least hid it deep inside myself. Maybe it was better that way.

~*~

It couldn't have been more than two months after Gyoza was born that dad left. The whole thing actually hit me as a surprise. Gyoza's birth had calmed things down in the family and if there were any arguments between my parents, I didn't see them. Funny thing is, her birth may have actually been the final straw for my dad

Gyoza was a healthy baby weighing seven pounds and six ounces. On the back of her neck was a small star shaped birthmark. Her hair was a mess of blonde curls and she was always happy. There was a nursery already set up for her beside my room. It was pink and stuffed full of teddy bears and things of that sort.
I thought for sure that my parents had made up, then one day my dad just left and he never came back.
It had been at least three months after my dad had left and my mom and I were coming back from the doctors. It was a routine checkup for her. Gyoza had been left home with a babysitter. Once mom opened the door, I headed straight to my sisters room; she was my favorite hobby. The only thing was she wasn't there. Instead, lying in her crib was a note and something long wrapped in white paper.

I never got to read the note or look in the package, thought I did see my name on it. Mom, who had come running into the room, seemed to know what it was though. She came up to the crib and pushed me aside and just stared at the empty crib. I don't even remember her crying.

For along time I wondered if she would call the police, but she never did. Instead, around noon she started packing and ordered me to as well. By four o'clock everything we needed was in boxes. All of our stuff wouldn't fit in the capsules we had so she went to go buy more. She took the package and note with her, but left me.

I wondered if she thought that the people who took Gyoza might come back for me. Whatever she thought, I was left home for at least an hour before she came back. We left then, but not before she set fire to the house.





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