Agent 182: I read a review I received and it gave me the motivation to continue. I felt the need to write. I had started writing this chapter a long time ago but it is lost in the trash can on my parents computer. I had the chapter planned and I think I was almost done with it but without a thought I pushed delete and it's gone. It saddens me now that I did that but then again... not really. I'm sure this will be so much better than the original. I hope you enjoy it... The confusion only gets worse as mine does.
Chapter 4: Wasted life
Colors swirled down a drain as he held his wrists over it, watching the deep crimson, staring at in. He was numb to the agony that was caused as he tore apart the thin flesh of his wrist. The only pain he could feel was the one at his chest. The one eating him alive, crushing his bones and laughing at his utter misery. He could only end it. It was all he wanted to do. Take the easy way out. End it.
He never felt his knees go weak and he never felt any pain. There was nothingness. The same thing that his heart was. There was a hole in his chest where his damn heart should have been and he had ripped it out of his chest so long ago and hid it in a metal box with a lock on it and once he let someone inside... he shut it on them and watched them suffer with a smile on his face.
The crimson was his life. It was all that kept him alive and with a simple slash of a knife it was fading as fast as it had came. He had let the blade slide deeper through the thick tendons and stopped as the silver nicked at the pearly bone. He had done this to both of his frail wrists mercilessly. A laugh escaping his lips as his life splattered into the sink and he pressed his arm down and more warmth was freed from it's cage. All his hate was gone. All of it was leaving his body. His sanity had already left and all he had was hate and it was red. He had to rid himself of it. Frantically, he grabbed for the blade again slashing over and over more blood- more- and more spilling free, draining.... draining away his life. Oh god how good it felt. Soon it would be over and he could smile... oh how he could smile....
Hazed ebony eyes snapped open. As they had so many times before. They stared at the soft ceiling and he felt tears at his face. Tears he hadn't known had been shed. He wiped the damning tears away and the fabric upon his wrists brushed across his face.
He could still see the red threatening to bleed through yet it stayed within, not wanting to be freed. Wanting to be bottled up within the prince. Or so he thought....
Was he what he had always thought? A magnificent proud Prince of the Sayians? He could only ponder the thought. He needed... he didn't know what he needed. Maybe he needed to be here with the rest of the psychos. He sighed heavily and sat up, his whole body felt as if it had been ran over twice by one of those damn cars. His eyes were now at the blankets upon himself. They white stood out against his golden skin.
Was he really crazy? Did he belong here? Was he a Prince? Was he even a fucking Sayian? His hands caught in his hair as he screamed. He screamed until his voice seemed to fade to nothing. Just as he was. Nothing.
He collapsed against the bed and felt a sense of relief. His anger had left him but not his hate. It still lingered in his mind and bit at it with confusion.
"I see you're finally awake." A feminine voice said from behind the glass. His eyes hesitantly moved towards it but he already recognized that voice. Bulma. The woman who had been his wife... or so he thought...
"What do you want bitch?" He growled and narrowed his eyes at her.
She only laughed lowly. "Nothing you can give me. I was just wondering if you wanted to have some breakfast or would you rather rot in there, ever so slowly. And believe me I'd let scum like you die in a millisecond." Vegeta stared at her for a moment then got up. He was sick of this damn room and the whole 'everything has to be white' thing. He felt sick as he saw he was wearing white still... those stupid fucking white pants and shirt.
The door opened in front of him and 2 guards grasped a hold of him. 2 Familiar faces. The Nameks. He smirked at them and said lowly, "I know what you are." They didn't seem to hear him but he knew they heard him loud and clear. AS he was led he looked into the room where kakkarot had been but frowned deeply to see it empty. A door was open and he found himself where he had been with Kakkarot the day before and that damn psycho bitch ChiChi.
His eyes scanned quickly as his arms were released. "Behave this time... human." The last part was hissed and he turned quickly just to have the door slam shut. He heard the gasp and the sound of silverware and plastic hitting the white tile. He knew who it was... He swiftly turned to see Kakkarot, the plate he had held in his hands had slid free and were now across the floor, his food smashed against the tile in a disgusting mess.
"Veh... Vegeta..." The words were soft to the prince's ears as he neared.
"Kakkarot.... this place... where the hell are we?"
"I..." Kakkarot seemed as confused as he was, possibly more. "I was home... just.... then nothing. There's nothing... there's nothing here... it's as if most of my thoughts are gone... I-"The younger Sayian's words were cut off as he was jerked backwards by a strong arm.
Vegeta's eyebrow cocked. "What the hell are you doing?" He looked upon his eldest son Trunks.
"You two are not allowed to communicate with one another in anyway." Vegeta growled as he heard this.
"I don't think so." His eyes narrowed. "I do whatever the hell I want and I want to talk with him! Now release his arm!"
Trunks only smiled at him, but this smile was not his son's smile... his blue eyes were lost... that wasn't his proud son. "This can be easy or this can be hard. You can stop speaking with him and everything will be ohkay or... he can be sent into solitude away from everyone else to wallow in his insanity. He is crazy you know... just as you are." His eyes that were once like the blue sky seemed to have been darkened by hate and another unidentifiable emotion. Was it vegeta who was crazy or was it them?
Vegeta thought it through. Would it be worth it....? He shook his head. "Fine. You win..." But Trunks didn't win, oh it was anything but that. Vegeta wouldn't give up so easily. He was Kakkarot's prince he sure the hell wasn't going to let them take his subject away from him! He watched as crystals fell from Kakkarot's eyes and trailed down his face. "Everything will be fine Kakkarot."
"His name isn't kakkarot. It's Son Goku! Get it right. The next time you say that blasphemes name he'll be in solitude... and Begeta... stay away from him."
Vegeta stared after the two as trunks led Kakkarot away from him. Why was he not permitted to talk to Kakkarot? He didn't understand. Right then he knew someone was fucking with his mind. He knew it. A voice came from his right and he looked to see ChiChi blinking repeatedly. He stared at her as she rocked her body, her arms wound around herself protectively. They slowly moved away and towards him, in a blur of white her hands were tightly at his throat squeezing. Cutting off his air and shoving it from his lung. Oh god no....
To be continued...
Agent 182: Thank you for reading and special thanks for the reviewers