Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Phoenix ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ or Tom and Jerry or any of the song lyrics I use in my fiction.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 2

 

 

 

“Darling, I'm home!”

 

Theadora Briefs cocked her stylish head slightly as she listened to her voice sarcastically echo throughout the empty master wing. All twelve rooms situated in that part of the mansion were equally large and luxurious. And at that moment, they were all equally empty of life.

 

With head held high and her composure intact, Theadora strode regally towards the master bedroom. Hope blossomed slightly in her heart but it quickly withered away at the sight of the still fresh and neatly made master bed. There was no sign of anyone disturbing its pristine magazine cover look in the last week or so. Theadora disliked being in the humongous master bedroom alone and had vainly hoped that the sight of some recently disturbed sheets would comfort her by showing her that her husband had been there.

 

“Still working in your beloved lab, I suppose,” she muttered bitterly, marching out of the room without a backward glance and toward her private boudoir.

 

~~~~

 

The dwindling rays of the sunset curiously peered through the curtains upon the drunk, disheveled woman who lay inside. Rising slightly from her limbless sprawl upon her bed, Theadora reached for the half-empty decanter of vodka and clumsily poured herself another glass. Startling light blue, though unfocused and half-lidded, eyes returned to the images flashing on the plasma television screen. Instead of featuring her usual stories or Martha Stewart, the television displayed the antics of a familiar cat and mouse cartoon duo.

 

“Stupid dumbass,” Theadora slurred as she watched the hapless Tom get mauled by a pack of dogs that the always-clever Jerry had led him into. “Never gonna get him are you?” She narrowed her eyes at the screen. “He's in your fucking house. You'd think that you'd be able to get him. He's yours already. But he just gets away every fucking time doesn't he?” Her voice rose and cracked as she pounded the blankets with pale, bloodless fists. “He fucking lives with you! Why can't you get him!? Why does he always get away!? He's bound to you—he's yours. WHY THE FUCKING HELL CAN'T YOU HOLD ON TO HIM!?”

 

Lurching to her feet and ignoring the blaring television screen, she blindly made her way into her drawing room. Still holding the glass of vodka in her left hand, she used her right hand to rip open one of the cupboard doors and haphazardly rummaged through the piles of photo albums.

 

Relatively sure of what her sharp fingers were hunting for, she finally scratched across a cardboard box, which she hungrily yanked towards her. Carelessly throwing the lid aside, she slowed her movement as she peered at the dusty, faded albums that lay within.

 

These were some of her oldest and most treasured albums. They were time capsules of her college years at Williamson University, guardians of a lost age when she had been the center of attention everywhere she went. Raised in a middle class family, Theadora had taken special care to shed all of her common qualities and willingly drowned herself in the glittering pool of sophistication, fashion, and gentility.

 

Carefully setting her glass on the lush carpet, she used both hands to ease open one of the albums. Gingerly she ran a finger over a slightly washed out class photo. She had worked her brains out to attend the most prestigious university in the nation. Nobody could accuse the young, brilliant Theadora Carline of not deserving her place. She had been the Scarlett O'Hara of Williamson—only she had been adored by all and not just men. Professors praised her abundantly and were eager to engage her keen mind in conversation. Women viciously fought to be a part of her inner circle. And men—men constantly trailed her footsteps, some drooping around like lost dogs waiting for an approving smile, others eagerly playing a coy teasing game with hopes of rewards for the winner. Combining charm, intelligence, voluptuous blonde beauty, and a vitality that lit flames within her eyes, Theadora Carline was the dazzling queen of her generation.

 

And then Benjamin Briefs entered her life. Theadora lovingly caressed the next photo, a picture that she had clipped from the school paper that featured an article on the research of Dr. Benjamin Briefs, who had not only graduated at the top of his class from Williamson at the age of eighteen, but was president—and head of the technological research team—of a budding company called Capsule Corp. At the time the photo was taken, he was twenty-three years old and working in collaboration with some of the professors at Williamson along with student lab assistants on some of his latest inventions and products. Theadora had heard about him and had easily assumed that he was some eccentric, mousy man who was as pale as a sheet of paper from lack of sunlight and probably dull as dirt.

 

Most surprisingly, she had been proven wrong. When she first saw the article and picture she had been shocked. Just from the photo it could be seen that the Benjamin Briefs was not only intelligent, but charismatic and charming as well. His smile was slightly twisted, as if he were mocking himself and, though he was not a tall man, his impeccably groomed appearance oozed with confidence and poise. His eyes were what had made Theadora insatiably curious; they glittered wickedly with mysterious secrets and knowledge. Theadora, willful young woman that she was, instantly set her heart on discovering what mysteries lay behind those enigmatic blue eyes.

 

Theadora worked her way into Briefs' inner circle and months passed. What had started as an interesting game became an all-consuming obsession for her. Benny, as he liked to be called, could be warm and jovial in one moment, utterly cool and withdrawn in the next, and immediately steely and ruthless afterwards. He was unstable, challenging, and wholly brilliant—a personality that had the addicted Theadora determined to have her fill of him. And yet, though he had the full attention of the most desired female in the region, he did not respond to her witty overtures or demure flirting. In fact he treated Theadora like a younger sister—a little girl of whom he was indulgently fond most of the time, but clearly out of her league. This was both insulting and educational to the girl.

 

For up until she met Benny Briefs, Theadora had been, for the most part, an inexperienced girl. Her relations with men—or boys, she decided after comparing them with Benny—had at most involved tantalizing kisses and caresses. But with Benny—or while making deductions about Benny's relationships with other women—Theadora realized that she would have to be more mature and womanly to capture the man she wanted. She knew she had the capability to become a sultry seductress—after all she was both beautiful and intelligent—and she fully intended to use every feminine spell she had.

 

Theadora flipped through more pictures of her and her friends, looking for ones that involved Benny. She was searching for the clues that she had missed; the signs that would have saved her a lifetime of heartache but had been obstinately ignored.

 

One photo caught her eye. It was a candid photo—random and impulsive. The shot featured a Theadora herself and a lab partner posed over a drawing board. Over her left shoulder stood Benny Briefs, but he was not looking directly at the camera. Instead, he was looking at the woman standing next to him.

 

Sobbing hysterically, Theadora forced herself to really look at the picture, to notice the enraptured light in Benny's eyes, and to analyze the relaxation in his stance. He looked very happy to be with the woman at his side.

 

The woman that was not Theadora Carline.

 

Laughing and crying at the same time now, Theadora took a long pull of her nearly forgotten drink.

 

“I was such a fool! Theadora Carline, you were such a goddamned fool!”