Chapter 13

When I woke up everything was different. My body didn’t feel like it was mine. I watched doctors and nurses come and go, checking my vitals and talking hastily to each other. My throat felt like I had swallowed a packet of razor blades. Eventually they realised that I was, in fact, conscious and they set about asking me stupid questions like ‘Are you okay?’ and offering to bring in my family. Of course I didn’t answer. Am I okay? What a stupid question to ask someone who had just tried to kill themselves.

A doctor gave me a long lecture on how stupid and selfish I was. It really didn’t do anything for my self esteem. He went into great detail about what they had to do to my stomach, how my parents were reacting and how I could have serious damage. To be perfectly honest, I barely heard a word of it; I cared more about world peace than what he had to say.

“And you had better start eating! You are much too thin for a seventeen year old boy.” The doctor pointed his finger at me.

I shrugged; he obviously thought I had some sort of eating disorder. If he took the time to examine me, like doctors were supposed to, he would have come across signs that my stomach was in shit order. But no. That was too much like hard work.

Eventually he left. I mused over everything that had lead to this and, if I am bluntly honest, I felt a pang of regret. Regret that I did this and regret that it didn’t work. Funny, isn’t it? I felt rather pissed

with whom ever had found me, they had broke into my wing and brought me back from the brink. It was obvious that I was a burden, so why didn’t they just let me die?

I thought about her too. I was lying where she had lay, feeling as she must have felt; the same, but completely different. If I had died, would I have met her again? My heart began to ache as I remembered all the memories we made together and I longed to be with her. She was my first love. She made me feel something that I had never felt before and the hardest thing was trying to get over her. It was love, I am sure of it, and I never want to do it again.

“Mr Briefs.” A nurse waltzed through the door, “It’s time for your tests.”

I sighed ; Time for the highlight of my day. 

Vegeta put the phone back onto the receiver and lent back against the counter. Bulma watched her husband from where she sat at the kitchen table.

“The boys awake.” The sayian prince announced solemnly.

“Oh thank kami.” Bulma sighed.

She buried her face in her hands and allowed her shoulders to sag with relief. The prince sat beside her, drained the remainder of his whiskey and poured another. Bulma removed her hands and peered at him. His drinking was beginning to scare her.

“Vegeta, don’t you think you’ve had enough? It’s your third bottle.”

“I’m fine, woman. The alcohol doesn’t intoxicate me until at least my 5^th bottle.”

“But your liver…”

“My liver is fine!”

Bulma didn’t fight with him. At any other time she would have pried the bottle from his hands and demanded he stop. Instead, she burst into tears. Her nerves could no longer take conflict from anyone.

Vegeta put down his glass and took hold of his wife’s hand. He squeezed it tightly in his own.

“Wo – Bulma. Please don’t cry.” He cooed softly, “I’m an ass, ignore me.”

She pulled him closer and rested her head on his shoulder. Vegeta flinched at the sudden contact, but he gave into his affection and wrapped his muscular arms around Bulma’s body. He stroked her hair as she wept and chucked when she apologised for getting mascara on his t-shirt. Like her cared about the damn shirt.

He heard footsteps behind him and his little girl climbed up onto his knee.

“Daddy, is Trunks going to be okay?” she asked.

He looked down into her wide, blue eyes and put an arm around her small shoulders.

“Don’t worry.”

Bura snuggled against her father’s chest. The remainder of the Brief’s family sat in the kitchen for well over an hour; the women being held against the man’s body. Each holding the other together.