No foreplay. Just telling you I tried to make it as ORIGINAL as I could. If you flame me for being lame, screw you. I don't care if it's lame. It's all mine and that's what matters. I'm redoing this fic, finally. Welcome to my World of pain, sorrow, grief and blood shed!

Prologue: Dear Reader, meet Me, Myself and I

I could feel my feet getting tired. With each step I made, I felt an awful pain itching its way towards the nerves of my legs. The pain coursed through my whole being and stung hard right into my heart. The feeling was utterly strange. I love strange things. Maybe that's because I'm a strange person myself. You would like to know who I am. I can bet my head on that. And actually I would like to know that too. Right now, I have no idea who I am, where I come from and who the heck my parents are. I know just that my name is Bulma Briefs. I also know that I'm 17 years old and that I go to "Orange Star High School" in the centre of the city. That's all I'm sure in about myself.

I pushed the door-handle leading to my "home" - the place where I could find solitude, take a long nap and feel like I finally belonged somehere. Not!

It was unlocked. That was something I hated doing now, locking the door. I don't see the point in locking the door when I don't care about anything in the whole stupid house. I let the sack on my back slide down to the floor and walked in. I didn't even bother leaving my shoes in their proper place. Why do that? Too much waste of energy for bullshit. I don't care how the floor looked like because no one was coming in the house anyway. Except for me, that is.

I can say you already got the picture. My head is very screwed up. Maybe yours would be too if you lived the life I did. I'm certain you would like to know what exactly I mean by "live my life".

You see, currently I'm 17. And I'm practically a psycho and a wacko. It does sound like a childish humor and not really true, but it is a simple fact, that I'm still growing to accept. I saw how they took my father away when I was 6. They took him and he never came back. Maybe simply because they have killed him. I saw the report on the news the same night. He was found dead in a car. The diagnose of his death was an overdose. Those bastards killed him mercilessly with their goddamn drugs. But after a little research I made specially on the occasion, I found out his death wasn't painful or anything at all. Right the opposite - he must have felt really relived when he died. Feh, the poor old man. He was so good with me, and I loved him so much. He was the only real family I ever had. Let God spare his soul and let him to enter Heaven to find his eternal peace.

Now, I'm taking care of myself. I work at a night club. A very dangerous job, you might say. They try to beat me up after work but I'm a lucky dog, not to mention very fast one, and I always manage to run away somehow. Whoohoo, go me. I like being sarcastic, don't really mind it or you might go insane alongside with me too. Since I made 10, I almost forgot what happiness is. I stopped smiling, stopped laughing completely. I have no more friends. Everyone thinks I'm a snappy snobby girl who is too self-centered to think about anyone around her. They treat me as if I'm radioactive or something. I can see the jealousy sparkle in their eyes every time they look my way. What are they envying me for? My fucked up life? My fortune that's not even mine yes? Feh, whatever; see if I care. I like being alone. Damn, I hit my foot in the couch. So what, I lied. I don't like being alone. I hate standing in a room, staring emptily in the dark and wondering what do other people have I don't.

Anyway, I stopped thinking about my idiotic past and my future, which would certainly be a disaster to the world and most of all to myself. I just went to my room and collapsed on the bed with my face buried in the pillow. I hugged it closely and tried to remember the last time someone talked to me. Well, if you don't count the clients at the pub, it should be around 3 weeks or so. They just seem to avoid me at school. I don't mind them, and I certainly don't blame them. After my father died, I turned really paranoid. I thought someone was watching me all the time. I thought that someone was trying to kill me constantly. All the time. Being the richest girl in the world and having a father with such fate... Can you blame me for it?

I'm constantly thinking of suicide. Once I tried slitting my veins. There were loads of blood splattered over the tiled floor in the kitchen. I fell unconscious and was really happy back then, simply because I was so afraid to do it, thinking it would sting awfully. And it did. I didn't have the courage a long time before I finally did it. Can you imagine the shock I received when I opened my eyes and found myself in a hospital? I bet you can't. The reason for that is that no one is so screwed up mentally besides me. When they saw I was awake I demanded why I am alive and still breathing. They said someone called an ambulance and if they were just a little bit late, I wouldn't have survived. I shocked them when I cursed the person who sent help for me. Poor them, they thought I was attacked and I was happy I lived. Ha, yeah right. Dream on, suckers...

I wanted to go where my mother and my father were. Up there, in the skies. My mother died when I was little. Too little to even realize what I was and on which world I was walking. Not really walking, but anyway. Or at least that's what my aunt says. Yeah, you got that right, I have an aunt. Her name is Mizuhara. Mizuhara Briefs. She was my mother's sister. She was smaller than my mom. Or at least that's what she told me. You will ask why I say "at least that's what she says" a lot. That is because I don't believe anyone anymore. That's my mistake and the most smart thing I have ever done in the same time. I don't have faith in people anymore. I just don't have friends to trust. Plus, my father always told me not to believe strangers and if there's anyone I ever trusted fully, that's my dad.

Damn, I'm thinking too much. I lifted my head because I was beginning to feel the lack of oxygen in it which was currently throbbing painfully hard. I turned my face up to the ceiling and stared at the white upper wall. I always dreamt I could fly. Don't ask why, I just do. Maybe it was the feeling that would really make me feel lighter, that would make all those troubles wash away and I'd finally be free... I wanted to go up there, maybe, up in the stars. Not with those machines of the society, just angelic wings. I always wanted to be an angel. A real angel. With pure heart and pure soul. As well as blank mind. My thinking gets me headaches very often.

I heard glass breaking and I jumped from my place on the bed. What was wrong now? I looked out of the window, pulling the curtains aside roughly in a swift motion. Oh, it was the Oujis again. I really prefer living alone in my own depression and misery rather than being beat up by my drunken father everyday. I mean Vegeta Ouji. The poor guy. His father is drinking all the time and when he gets home he pours all of his anger at the world over his son. Vegeta is one year senior than me. He is ending his senior year soon, just like me. As a matter of fact, he's in my class. We're never talking, though he's my neighbor. He's more psycho than me, I swear. I heard rumors all he thinks and talk about is killing and blood spilling all the time. He has a bloodlust of some sort they say.

I looked how he ran out of the yard after breaking the glass of the windows with his shoulders. There were so many little pieces of the glass in his arms and legs. He ran behind my house and I decided to be nice and to offer him a place to stay for the night. I really felt sorry for him. Maybe I could tell him that, so he knew that I actually exist. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea.

I saw him behind a tree, taking the tiny pieces of glass out of his limbs. I cringed and ran to him.

"Hey, don't you think you should desinfect those before you do anything?" I said and tried to pull his arms off of the wounds. He glared at me with a death scaring look. I swallowed and looked sadly at him. His only reaction to my beaming sympathy was a low growl.

"Please..." I said and I could feel my heart tearing. Why did I feel this way? Was it too much pity to take? I didn't know and I actually didn't care.

"Girl, leave me alone! I want to have my peace." He paused for a second as he looked away from my face. "I want to have eternal peace..." He looked really worked up. There weren't glass pieces just in his arms. There were a lot in his abdomen and the chest. He was covered in his own blood which was oozing from the wounds all over him. I felt the sudden urge to stop the pain. I didn't want other people to be as fucked up as me. I just didn't. Suddenly, he fell unconscious over me. I tried to regain balance, but failed as I usually do. We both fell backward, his body over mine. I would've felt uncomfortable in that position, and I did, but I was focused on more important matters just then. Or at least I tried to.

I stood up with his arm over my shoulder. Sometimes I wonder where I get all my strength from. I dragged Vegeta to my house and sat him on the floor because my feet really hurt from all of the walking I did today. I decided to take care of him right away or he might die of blood loss or something. Oh, no, darling, you have guessed quite wrong here! You're not going to reach salvation that soon! I'd be the first one to do it!

Maybe he would actually enjoy my company while I helped him. I can bet my head he would wake up in a few minutes. Now I had to look for my stuff to fix his wounds and to clean them. It wasn't long ago since I last cut myself. I know where I put those things. They come in handy every single day in my life. I can be really clumsy at times... So clumsy that you cannot even imagine...