I jolted upright, smacking my forehead against the rear view mirror, colliding with the door on my right. My heart was beating a thousand miles an hour, until I was seeing stars, trying not to panic as I made sense of where I was.
Vegeta just glared at me, one hand holding a cigarette out the window, the other controlling the steering wheel. I breathed hard, looking at him looking at me, taking in the tight fitting black leather coat, tiny bits of fur poking out around his hands, the glamorized rock star to be sure. The bass of the music was deafening, and as if sensing my discomfort, he reached to turn it down, the degrading words piercing my ears.
“What the…..” I shook my head. “Where am I? How did I get here?”
Vegeta “hmphed” in irritation, tightening his jaw and stretching his fingers tighter around the steering wheel. He flicked the ashes out the window, taking a very asinine drag of his cigarette.
“Well, when you’re done playing the clueless amnesiac,” he growled. “I’d like to know why it is that I found you sprawled out on the floor of a church? Some kind of weird spiritual ritual I haven’t found out about yet?”
“You found me?” I stuttered, swallowing hard as I remembered the pedophile priest. I felt the fear building up inside me, almost overwhelming me as it had in the church. It was like an overpowering scent suddenly and I fought hard just to breathe, just to function.
“How?” I barely choked out, my heart rate reaching dangerous speeds. “How would you find me?”
“Well, if your bellowing like a girl didn’t do the trick, your power level would have propped it up in neon lights for me. But for your information, it was Aries that told me. Said he saw you go in.” He gestured towards me with his cigarette before taking another poisonous drag. “You’re lucky you know, if I had been far away, I’d have let you sleep in that fucking place! I was just in the neighborhood.”
I stared at him for a moment, the gorgeous rays of sunlight touching his skin, revealing him to me in a light I’d never seen before. Always in the darkness, I had missed so many of his qualities. The way his eyes were formed, always squinting yet never too small. The lashes long and black, framing an Egyptian shape. The way that his lips were full like a woman’s, deep red in color, puffy and swollen in design.
But his skin was unlike anything I can recall describing to you. In the darkness, anyone can seem unearthly, ethereal, angelic. In the right lighting even the most unattractive creatures can beam like characters of Greek mythology, women lithe and graceful like the sirens of legend and men golden like painted depictions of Zeus. But seeing him in the lightness of a young sunset, as the rays stroked the strength of his jaw line and kissed the angles of his cheek bones, I might have fallen in love with him had I not known what a monster he was. The rarest of androgynies, mine for the filthiest fantasies I wanted to enact.
His piercing eyes turned to me, the lids so dark they seemed almost wet, as if he’d painted them, and yet it was natural. I glanced away quickly, cursing myself for always staring at him like this. Like he was a painting, rather than a creature who knew my obsession for him. But then, I would have rather focused on his face than think about the priest in the confessional.
“In the neighborhood, you say?” I breathed, gazing out the window at the scenery rushing by, a dull, boring desert on either side of his amazing car. Tan mountains in the far distance, ugly cactuses and dust balls the only thing worth looking at. “From what I recall, you’ve never even been to Galilee City.”
He was quiet for a moment, like he was pondering his options, what strange excuses he’d come up with next, what crazy coincidental situations he’d throw at me. But I wasn’t going to buy it. Maybe the fear had made me cynical, maybe it had made me suspicious and maybe it had even made me mildly insane for the moment. But SOMETHING was up. Something was wrong with him.
Caught in the grip of panic, I began mulling over everything, ready to accuse ANYONE and EVERYONE but myself for the strange “coincidences” that had been taking place. But the truth was, I’d been kicking myself about it ever since I’d watched what he’d done to Sebastian. Memories of it played over and over in my head, the way Vegeta’s cruel eyes had taunted the gorgeous man, looking on in mock pity when every other action had displayed nothing of the sort. I cringed remembering how the man had swung by his hair, his legs kicking and wriggling to free him while he screamed. And the little slivers of blood that had snaked down his back and shoulders.
Probably more than any suspicion I’d ever held against myself, I began to wonder about his connection with Sin.
Oh, this may seem to be a spontaneous assumption on my part, but the evidence had been throwing me the finger for months now. His reaction to everything, his treatment of Bulma, his treatment of ME to be sure! I had a damn good reason to suspect and this apparent “coincident” was bullshit. He had KNOWN I was at that church. He wasn’t surprised when I told him my dreams so long ago in that club, because he already had known about them! He didn’t care about this world because he had SOMETHING to do with its demise. And the idea of love was as foreign to him as any other occurrence that had come up on this planet.
True, I may have been slightly out of sorts at the moment, (well, ok, more than slightly) but every strange occurrence dawned on me at once and rather than taking the time to mull over them, as I might have done in normal circumstances, before I knew it, I was thrusting the blame in his face.
Vegeta bit his lip, fingers making the leather on the steering wheel squeak as he twisted it too tight, the black fur of his coat lounging over his knuckles.
“Let me out,” I said, my throat tight. “Let me out of this car Vegeta.”
He made an indignant nose, brushing me off as if I were a five year old wanting attention.
“I’m serious!” I commanded, clenching my teeth, fully prepared to do whatever it took to get away from him. “Let me out of this fucking car NOW!”
I threw open the door, the wind pushing full force against it as I held it open, the screeching of tires the only thing keeping me from diving out. The car swerved this way and that as Vegeta slammed on the brakes, the tires leaving black tracks behind us as we came to a stop.
I tumbled out, dust sticking to my clothes as I scrambled to regain my footing. Vegeta was beside himself with rage, violently slamming the door of his Lamborghini, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt and hoisting me up, the cigarette smoke floating up into my eyes.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he demanded, his nose almost touching my nose. “Have you gone COMPLETELY insane?!”
He knocked me backwards, glaring at me dangerously. But I was not to be deterred.
“No Vegeta,” I said calmly. “For once, I’m thinking clearly. There’s something wrong with you.”
“Something wrong with ME?!” He hollered. “Something wrong with ME?! I’m not the one falling asleep in churches and diving out of moving vehicles!”
“How did you know I was there, Vegeta,” I accused, going into defense mode. “How is it that you’re always there at the scene of Sin right when I arrive? How is it that you claim that Sin must be destroyed and yet you’ve been blatantly honest that you don’t give a shit about this world?!”
He made an indignant “UH!” and threw his hands out to the side.
“Because I see the flaws in this world, I’m automatically the number one suspect for its destruction?” he seethed, peevishly throwing his cigarette to the dust. “God! You’re IMPOSSIBLE! I can’t do anything right with you, Kakarot! You could tear the pope to pieces with all your accusations! Don’t you get it?!”
He came closer to me, grabbing my face in both his hands.
“I am the ONLY one in this world that really knows you. I KNOW you, Kakarot. I know the good, I know the evil, I know the hero and I know the enemy. But I know you. And that’s something that no one else can say.” He brought me closer to him. “More importantly, I adore you for every angle. Who in this world or out of it could say that they truly know you and want you for it? Who in this world would choose to be around you if they knew the things you did? Or the things you thought? Or the things you dream?”
He pushed me away from him.
“No one, precious. NO one would want you if they knew. But I stay!” he pointed to himself. “I stay, Kakarot. Does that mean nothing to you? I know your deepest, darkest secrets and I love them. But you push me away at every turn. If it isn’t the fact that I don’t love you, it’s the fact that I hate this world. I stick by you and what do you do for me? Hm?”
He threw his finger out at me, his eyebrows clenched in rage.
“What do you do for me? You accuse me of REDICULOUS things that you haven’t ANY amount of proof of, you insist that I’m a monster simply because I’m not blinded to the faults of this world like you are and every day you remind me of how I fall short of being the perfect hero. I’m NOT YOU, Kakarot!”
Vegeta looked away, huffing in frustration, crossing his arms and refusing to look at me.
“I will never BE you! I don’t have the past that you have, I don’t have the family or the dreams or the promise that I’ll keep living tomorrow. My life has been one live-for-the-moment after the next, just one day after another. You accuse me because I’m NOT perfect. You accuse me because I was raised as a monster rather than as a human. DAMN IT! I can’t change my past! I can’t be you!”
All of my conviction had melted away with his words and I suddenly realized the truth. That he was completely and totally right. Who would stay with me if they knew the truth of who I was? Who would accept me for my secrets? And here was the only one and I pushed him away at every turn because I couldn’t let myself feel anything but contempt for him. I blamed him for every amount of guilt I experienced and he was entirely right. I did nothing for him at all. I felt nothing for him at all.
“I’m sorry, Vegeta.” I said solemnly, lowering my head in shame. “I don’t know how to make right any of this. You scare me. Your contempt for life, your careless attitude, the way that you treated Sebastian. The way that you can do what you do with me and yet feel no amount of attachment. It isn’t normal, Vegeta. A person is suppose to FEEL something. And yet, you don’t. There is no passion in you for anything and it scares me.”
“Because I taught some punk ass kid a lesson I’m all of a sudden the number one suspect?! Because I don’t share your…….. posies and sunflower view of this fucking world, you have a right to accuse me of causing its end?! How fucking dare you?! Who is ALWAYS there beside you, fighting against one asshole after the next? How many lives have I saved that YOU don’t even know about? You see what I let you see and you don’t want to see anymore then that. You basically just accused me of BEING Sin itself?! And now you say you’re sorry?!” He threw his hand out. “That’s not good enough!”
I looked up at him, waiting until he made eye contact. He did so begrudgingly, digging his toe into the hard sand, pieces breaking off and being swept away by the wind.
“I don’t understand you.” I confessed. “We’re nothing alike because I feel so much. Maybe too much. But I do. I don’t understand how you can be with Bulma, know her, speak to her, touch her, and not be completely in love with the person she is. I don’t know how you can use her for whatever it is you want and the next moment come to me for the same purpose.”
He just stared at me numbly, watching my lips as I spoke the words from my heart.
“I feel so much animosity for you because in a way, I’m jealous that you feel nothing. This world……” I looked at the sky, feeling the weight of my secrets slowly melt off.
“This life terrifies me. Every day it seems like more and more evil spreads, like more of me dies. I’m terrified that I can’t stop Sin, that I can’t stop you. I’m terrified of my son, of the boy he is, of the man he’ll become . I’m terrified that my wife will leave me. I’m terrified that Sin will strike the city of one of my friends. I’m terrified of everything! But you aren’t. You live free Vegeta and I envy that as much as I loathe it. You’ll never be burdened with the fear that haunts me. You’ll never be confined by the attachments I’ve built with other people. And now more than ever, I’m beginning to wonder who has the advantage.”
I jumped as he pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and bending my head down so that my face was buried into his thickly corded neck. But it was warm and it was soft and I dug my eyes against his chin, closing them as I breathed him in.
“Oh Kakarot,” He sighed, like a tired father reading a nighttime story to his child. “Goku, whoever you are. I would never want you any other way. You exasperate me, you frustrate me, you irritate me and yet, I chose you for these things exclusively. This evil inside you festers like rotting sores and yet, the good remains, shining like the first star that appears in the evening. You don’t see it, you don’t feel it, you don’t want it… But I know its there. And I want you for it.”
He pushed his mouth against mine, holding the back of my hair in his fist, pulling my head to the side as he kissed me.
“Never regret what you are,” he whispered, his lips still molded to mine. His eyes looked directly into my own. “Because good, evil, happy, sad, brave or scared, I wouldn’t want you any other way. You’re mine, Kakarot. You’ve always been mine. You’ll always be mine.”
I walked into my house, closing the door behind me and hearing the last sounds of the wind going through the trees. The sun still shone, a thought that warmed me more than it should have. But then, I guess the approaching spring time always brings the illusion of hope and satisfaction. The smell, the feel, its indescribable. Springtime held promise, even if I knew the truth of it. That no change in the weather could possibly save me from what I had to accomplish.
The changing of myself and the destruction of whatever Sin was.
I had expected nothing besides the usual, a quiet, withdrawn Gohan, sitting in front of our new T.V, isolated from me and Chi Chi in a way that had never been before. And my wife, as always, cooking in the kitchen, waiting until I got home to accuse me of dastardly things that were (between us) quite mellow compared to what I was ACTUALLY up to.
But instead I was met with a face that calmed me more than any sunset, more than any promise of Spring. Bulma sat, smiling on the couch, her hands positioned on her lap as she beamed up at me. Chi Chi was no where to be seen and I imagine I found some sort of contentment in that as I swept Bulma up into the biggest hug imaginable.
I swung her around, loving the way she laughed into my neck, clutching me back as though we hadn’t seen each other in years. Her warm breath tickled my neck and I don’t remember ever wanting to let go of her, just holding her there, dangling in my arms, her hair all around me.
Setting her down, I took into account just how amazingly, stunningly, breathtakingly beautiful she was and I laughed inwardly, “No wonder Vegeta’s so damn protective of her.” She grinned, knowing all too well what a pretty little thing she was, her hair swept back in classic curls that distinctly reminded me of Marilyn Monroe, her eyes dark with eyeliner and her lips even more full with just the right shade of red lipstick.
“How you doin’ ya big lug?” she asked, winking, making me swoon in the same way that an old man drools over a woman half his age. I wanted to hug her again, and might have if my brain hadn’t chosen that exact moment to remind me of the last time I’d seen her and she had, thank God, not seen me.
I blushed profusely, looking away from her as it all came back, fighting hard not to remember the way she had smoothly rode over Vegeta’s body, her back wet with sweat, her head falling back as they did the most private of things, oblivious to me gawking in the corner. Damn him.
She sat down, her legs showing beneath the white of her skirt, a modest length with an immodest slit going up the side. I tried hard not to stare, blinking my eyes away before REALLY taking in the way her legs seemed to glow, so perfectly shaven and oiled that they glistened in the lighting.
Chi Chi chose that moment to come tromping in on us, spatula in hand as she prepared for the degrading experience that always met me when I came home. It was a wonder I ever came for the punishment.
“Well Goku, you’re home early considering,” she began, tapping her foot in irritation. Both me and Bulma groaned ever so slightly, knowing what was about to take place. “So what has Vegeta gotten you into now, huh? Going to church pfft! THAT’S believable!”
I moaned, burying my face in my hands. I had distinctly told Chi Chi, trying to say it casually to avoid the questioning that would no doubt ensue, that I was going to church today. Of course, being the “savior” of the world as I had once been known, I brushed it off as a sort of community service, insisting that I wanted to know the morale of church goers. No doubt, she had thought it was ludicy, of that I’m confident, but rather than stick around for whatever brash things she’d have to say, I had merely left.
Well, now I was reaping the punishment as she thoroughly embarrassed me in front of Bulma, treating me like a nine year old boy rather than as her husband of too many years.
“I know you were with him,” she spat. “Who else would you rather spend the day with than your family? Probably blowing up stuff and causing all sorts of destruction, just like you two. Its pathetic really. Grown men out beating the hell out of each other and gloating about being conquerors of the universe. I don’t know how you two can even STAND each other.”
“Actually Chi Chi,” Bulma suddenly spoke. “Vegeta was at home this morning. He didn’t leave until probably an hour ago, maybe two. He couldn’t have been with Goku.”
Chi Chi rolled her eyes, realizing she’d been beaten this round.
“Well pray tell Goku,” She said mockingly sweet. “What HAVE you been up to all day, besides avoiding me?”
“I went to church Chi Chi,” I said, delving into my moron façade to avoid having to listen to anymore of her. “Just like I said I was gonna.”
She turned around peevishly, spatula on her hip as she spat out a fleeting “Whatever!” and returned to her kitchen. Bulma stared after her, a rather cold look coming over her brilliant features before she shook it away, smiling up at me.
“Come over here Goku,” she instructed, patting the cushion next to her. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages!”
Again came the despicable images and I fought ridiculously hard with the erection that wanted to grow within my pants. It really SUCKS being a guy sometimes.
I sat down next to her, loving the feel of her plump arm molded against mine, the light from the sun glistening off the shimmering cosmetics she’d applied to the fleshy parts of her cheeks. She blinked, the sparkle of silver eye shadow reflecting the sunlight. I could have stared at her like this for hours.
“So you’ve been to church,” she said in an aristocratic manner. “I have to say I’m surprised Goku. You’ve never been one much for religion. Why the sudden change?”
I looked at her calmly, loving, just LOVING the fact that she was here. There was always a feeling of nostalgia when it came to Bulma. I’m probably wrong in admitting this. I really ought to stop before I say it but hell, this is my story. This is my paper. This is my conscience on the line, my regrets and my past. And I regretted that rather than being with Bulma, I had ended up with Chi Chi.
There! Fine! I said it!
Throw your judgments at me! Oh, why one at a time?! Throw them all at once! I deserve it, do I not? A married man looking on in a bittersweet longing for a past with a woman other than his wife? So I wished that I had sought some kind of relationship with this angelic being that sat smiling at me! Punish me for it, but I wont deny it. It was nostalgia in its cruelest form because there was no going back. There was only looking back and the sorrow that brought me.
“Goku,” she said, awakening me. “Goku are you alright?”
“Of course Bulma,” I laughed, smiling sheepishly. “Why would you ask that!?”
She looked at me imploringly, as if entreating me with her shimmering eyes.
“I don’t know,” she said softly. “I don’t now why I ask. Its just…..”
She hardened her facial features, moving closer to me and squinting her eyes.
“Its just that you don’t seem yourself lately. Chi Chi doesn’t seem to notice it, well, not like I do. But you seem troubled, withdrawn. And now hearing that you’ve been going to church well,” she shrugged. “I always had the impression that only the downtrodden went to church, to find whatever it was that was missing in their lives. To seek spiritual absolution. I’ve never known you to care about things like this.”
I had to smile in bewilderment. There really was no fooling Bulma. She was the most astute person I knew, so discerning, so sagacious in every matter. And as much as she seemed to jump to conclusions, she was more often times right than wrong.
“Why did you go, Goku?” She urged.
I fumbled around in my head for a good excuse. What could I say that wouldn’t be prodded and dissected by her ingenious mind? “No biggie Bulma, I just went to confess the sin of committing adultery with Vegeta. It’s of no concern.”
Sighing, I smiled weakly.
“I don’t know,” I confessed. “I don’t know if it was to see what all the fuss was about. I don’t know if it was to understand the appeal or maybe to seek some kind of comprehension. I don’t know if it was maybe weakness on my part or strength. I don’t know. But I felt I needed to do it. So I did.”
“So impulsive,” she smirked. “just like always.”
“So how’s the family?” I asked quickly, changing the subject. My fingers found a cup of tea, barely touched on the coffee table and I quickly swept it up into my hand. “Your mom, how is she holding up?”
“Ohhhh!” Bulma brushed the air. “You know mom! Earthly destruction shall have no hold over her saving every abandoned animal in East City! The woman is egregious! Oh. Her and Vegeta. It’s preposterous the way those two act together. My mother, doting over him as if he’s Casa Nova incarnate, cooking him whatever he wants, buying him anything his selfish little heart desires.
“And you would think that he’d tire of it all eventually, but he seems to love the attention. I swear he feeds off it, occasionally sauntering into a room in his best attire simply to hear her fiendish gratification. He’s impossible! Completely obsessed with himself. He’ll just lean against the counter, smiling in that horrible way that he does, letting every compliment sink in. And its not as if I could disagree with her either!” She huffed in irritation. “The man is substantially attractive not to mention he dresses like Gianni Versace himself!”
I nodded, taking a sip of my tea. Who the hell was Giovanni Virsachy?
“If I didn’t know better,” she grumbled. “I’d think he was gay!”
The tea came sputtering out of my mouth, soaking the coffee table as I coughed and choked, slamming it down while she patted my back.
“Oh God, Goku are you ok?!”
“I’m…… fine.” I gasped, eyes watering as I coughed. “Just a little hot is all.”
“Goku, that tea’s been sitting there for almost an hour.” She raised a finely sculpted eyebrow.
“Heh….really? Well, could’ve fooled me.” I added, sounding like a complete idiot. “So how is your dad?”
“He’s fine.” She said, her face hardening in the way that it ALWAYS did when I brought up her dad. I never understood why of course. I figured it was simply because Bulma was rather spoiled, always had been. While her mother had always said “yes” to everything, Bulma’s father had always played the role of the disciplinary parent, saying “no” to certain things, using his role to inculcate guidelines and morals in her.
“Oh,” I said, wiping my mouth with a dainty little napkin, floral print and all. “Well, I’m sure Vegeta’s not gay Bulma.” To myself muttering that I didn’t know for sure WHAT he was exactly.
“Oh, I know I know!” She said, waving the air. “Believe me, Goku, I KNOW.”
I smirked devilishly.
“Ohhhhh?” I snickered. “Do tell Bulma. How exactly would you know this so well?”
She laughed heartily, smacking my arm.
“GOKU!” She chuckled. “Lets just say, I have my ways.”
“Well,” I grinned. “Lets just make sure you’re “ways” involve protection, ay? Don’t want a bunch of little Vegeta’s running a muck of things. God knows where we’ll be!”
“Goku!” She elbowed my stomach. “I’ve never seen THIS side of you before! Since when would you know about protection? Obviously you weren’t too familiar with it when little Gohan came around!”
I smirked, looking down before I was mesmerized by her again.
“How is he?” She finally asked, her face falling into a serious look. I bit my lip, searching for an answer.
“I don’t really know how he is,” I answered honestly. “he doesn’t talk much anymore, he doesn’t train with me, wont eat with the family. Every time I approach him it’s as if I have the plague. I make him more uncomfortable by trying than by simply leaving him be. I’m running out of options.”
“That bad, huh?” she sighed, resting her chin on her knuckles. “Maybe it’s just hormones. Kids that age go through these things sometimes. Want responsibility, want independence, want to rebel.”
“I don’t think so,” I shook my head. “It started after he watched so many programs about Sin. It’s like it poisoned him or something. Like, after he watched it, he started getting scared or something.”
A pause came over me, and I closed my eyes, wishing now more than ever I could tell her everything. Of course, I couldn’t. But I entertained the idea that if I could tell anyone, it would have been Bulma. She’d always been the liberal type. The type to stand up for anyone, regardless of whether or not she even believed in their cause. If they had a view, they had a right to express it, in her mind. And she would have understood too. She would have given me excuses and justification. She would have given me the consolation that I needed. If only it hadn’t been Vegeta.
“I have to do something,” I breathed. “Sin isn’t going to stop any time soon. It’s just going to continue, you know.”
“I know.” She nodded. “But you will. I know you’ll stop it.”
I looked up at her, surprised at this sudden admission of faith. I had never known Bulma to be the trusting type, not in any way, shape or form. But as she stared into my eyes, I saw the kind of trust that only a priest can witness, beaming in the eyes of a true believer, relying on blind faith alone to see them through all the heartache. I pulled her to me, hugging her tightly as she breathed into my throat.
“I just wish that I had as much faith in me as you do Bulma,” I groaned. “Seems like I doubt myself more and more often these days. Every time Sin strikes, it’s like another defeat. How can I stop something if I don’t even know what it is?”
“But you will,” she insisted. “maybe when you least expect it you’ll find the courage to beat Sin.” She brushed her fingers through my hair, admiring its shortness. “Don’t doubt yourself, Goku. You’re the strongest man I know.”
“A lot of good that does me,” I muttered. “What does strength have to do with anything if I can’t even find what I’m supposed to defeat? People are dying all the time and I do nothing about it, Bulma. Do you hear me? I do NOTHING to save them. Families die, children die, mothers, fathers. People die every day by the millions and I sit in my home praying that it doesn’t strike one of my friends. Is that courage? Is that strength?”
I had grown bitter in this conversation, seeing my faults as I saw them privately every day. Fearing myself, either that I wasn’t strong enough to beat Sin, or that perhaps, a part of me was responsible for it. Bulma stared in shock, her pretty eyebrows bent in frustration and despair.
“Goku,” she whispered. “When did you start believing like this? How can you even SAY that? The things you’ve done, the people you’ve saved. How can that mean nothing to you? I’ve never seen you doubt yourself and it scares me.”
“I’m sorry.” I grumbled.
“No,” She shook her head. “I’M sorry! I never had the impression that the bravest man alive, the strongest man in the universe would give up so easily! What are we even fighting for? We might as well just give up now! Why wait?!”
Staring at her, I sighed.
“Goku, when did you stop believing in yourself?”
“I…….” I paused, probably for too long a time, my elbows on my knees as I thought. “I’m not who you think I am Bulma. I’m not the bravest man or the strongest. I’m just a man. And I’m scared and I’m afraid. In fact, I’m terrified. It feels like the world is laying on my shoulders, every day the weight gets a little heavier. Do you know what its like to HAVE the power and know that in the end it’s mundane? It’s trivial? Doesn’t account or amount to anything?
“So I saved the world from a galactic tyrant. Does that mean I can do it again? No. It means I got lucky once.”
“No,” she breathed, brushing a stray lock of hair from my eyes. “It means that once, you cared enough to save a world that was in danger. But the world needs you again Goku. And whether or not you believe in yourself, I know that you’ll do it. Look at me,” she grabbed the sides of my face. “You don’t know HOW to lose. You don’t know HOW to give up.”
I smiled, feeling warmth build in my eyes. I would never cry. I knew that. I cant. But I wished that I could, like I do so often, staring into her eyes and seeing pure, untainted, compassionate love staring right back into mine.
“Oh Bulma,” I cried, grabbing her up and holding her tightly against me. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“Don’t thank me,” She breathed against my cheek. “Save me.”
She kissed me on the cheek, her bright red lips pressed like putty against my skin. I wanted to kiss her on the mouth, and might have if my control had been anything less than what it was. I’ll never pretend that I didn’t love Bulma, because I did. There wasn’t anything there for me not to love.
A friend that had been there from the start, who had shown me that there was more to the world than I’d ever dreamt. A pretty girl who had grown into a stunningly beautiful woman, strong and sure, perfect in a sense. And a believer, a follower, a fan that never second guessed me. Who believed in me ruthlessly, despite what anyone else thought.
“I had a dream once,” she said, holding onto me, half on my lap. “and in that dream, I saw you fighting. The hero of my nightmares, always. I don’t think that the world was supposed to be this way,” she smiled. “Sometimes, I think it must have been different, or that something went wrong. Because in my dreams, I see you fighting, winning every battle. The happy buffoon you used to be. And you save me.”
She pressed her nose to mine.
“You always save me.”
I put my hand in her hair, knowing that Chi Chi was in the kitchen, knowing that Vegeta would have killed me by now, knowing that in every possible way, this was wrong. And so I delicately placed her off my lap, loving her too much to bring her into my world.
“You were meant for great things Goku.” She smiled knowingly, seeing how the frustration had built in my eyes when she’d been so close. Close enough to kiss. “I don’t think anything happens without a reason and you were given a gift of strength. Eventually, you’ll show the world what you can do. For now, forgive yourself and believe that you can make a difference.”
She got up, her white skirt making a swishing sound as she moved towards the kitchen, preparing to say goodbye to Chi Chi. She turned to look at me, her hand on the frame of the door, her eyes shinning in the sunlight.
“I’ll always be your number one fan, Goku.”
That night I had turned on the television, the new, wider screen filled with visions and pictures of the normal horrific scenes I was becoming all too used to seeing. Every click of the control brought just one more report, one more death, one more scream. It was like one constant horror film, one kill more gory than the last.
Not a year ago, censors wouldn’t have even allowed them to display such monstrosities to the public but now? Who cared? No one sat around long enough to sift through what was too much and what was too little. It wasn’t an R rated film. It wasn’t an NC-17 rated film. It wasn’t a film at all. Just a nightmare of a reality.
One particular report caught my eye, free from all the normal bloodshed, if only for a moment. A woman walking through a dark house, light from the camera obviously blinding her as she tried to stumble down a strangely familiar flight of stairs.
“You see,” She was saying, hand on a wooden banister as she descended down into utter darkness. “If you look here, this is where he kept them.”
The camera, working like a flashlight, shone through the shadows, sliding along broken plaster walls, stained floors of cold concrete and shattered glass from a tiny window high up.
“Over this way Teddy,” she said, pointing over to a particularly broken part of the plaster walls. “Look right here, you see that? Little hand prints, pieces of the plaster have been torn off or beaten in. It’s like one of the boys was trying to escape through the wall. Like he found a weak point or something.”
The screen continued to show parts of the terrifying room, the reporter gasping suddenly, the camera flying over to her as she held her hand over her mouth, breathing heavily.
“Hair,” she stammered. “Bloody hair in the corner of the room.”
The camera zoomed in, the white light illuminating a spot of the wall, a bloody little handprint stretched across it. I leaned in towards the screen, swallowing hard as I realized, I’d been here. I had been in this room.
“One of them must have tried to fight him.” The reporter whispered, pushing back a strand of her boring blonde hair. She looked towards the camera, her face pale, flushed free of all coloring until even her lips held a frighteningly white look.
“I….” she stumbled with her words, obviously trying to look professional in a panic stricken state. “I don’t wanna be here.”
She tumbled backwards, afraid of the camera, my heart beating for her in suspense, as though she were being chased. She fell to the ground, the camera tossed down as “Teddy” apparently rushed to her side.
“I gotta get outta here!” She started to screech, her eyes filled to the brim with tears, her arms wrapped around her anorexic looking legs. Her voice had changed to that of a child, her entire body shivering.
“This is where they found em’.” She bawled. “This is where they found the bodies. He killed them. Don’t you see the bodies?!”
I looked around, the angle of the camera giving no leads as to where she was seeing these bodies.
“He killed all the boys and took their eyes! He knew he was gonna get caught, so he killed them. And he left them down here until they died.” She began to rock back and forth, the camera revealing two arms trying in vane to comfort her.
“But he wasn’t too smart was he?” she whispered, eyes still staring into the camera. “It only took one to get away. Only one boy to find the window, only one to find that gas station. Even without eyes, a child could do it.”
The screen suddenly snapped, the producers apparently cutting away to a more professional reporter, donned in a tan suit with overly greased hair. But then, it wasn’t any of that that got my attention. No. Just the picture that flashed forth as they proudly announced the discovery and defeat of the Priest of Eyes two days ago.
And the picture, smiling with old dead skin, was none other than the priest I had talked to only hours before.
