Gokuawoke the next morning, his head throbbing with a dull pain. He hardly got any sleep at all; he was plagued with horrifying nightmares. It was impossible for him to sleep. Everytime he closed his eyes he saw his son, lying on the ground, choking on his own blood, one of his eyes missing, a hole in his chest.

He heard the faint, distant hum of the vacuum cleaner as his wife (Chichi) cleaned their house, although the entire house was spotless.

The only room that wasn't clean, hadn't been clean, was (Gohan's) his son's. Neither of them went in there anymore. Cleaning house, Goku assumed, was Chichi's way of ignoring the entire situation. Ignoring the death of their only son. Ignoring him, ignoring his pain.

It was like he had some kind of contagious disease. That's exactly what it was. She avoided him, as well as everybody else. His so-called 'friends' had stopped visiting him. They had all abandoned him. Chichi rarely slept in the same bed with him anymore.

The other day she had told him that she was pregnant. He didn't reply. He only stared at the ceiling. She left the room, sobbing.

Nothing much mattered to him anymore. Nobody could truly understand his sadness, except maybe Piccolo, who hadn't been seen since Gohan's death. He had been residing in the Yunzabit Highlands, the biggest freezer known to man.

When Chichi finished cleaning the house, she returned to the room whom she shared with the man who was once her husband. She stood in the doorway, her eyes focused on Goku. His face was worn, haggard, old. There were circles under his glassy eyes.

"Honey?"

He sighed. "What? What do you want?"

"I am going over to Bulma's . F-For a party."

"A party?"

"Yes. Everybody will be there. And I would like it if you'd go with me." She paused, waiting for Goku's response.

Goku uttered a dry, raspy laugh. "Are you kidding me?"

She shook her head.

Goku groaned. "I really don't feel like it. I would like to get some rest."

"All you do is lay in that bed!" Chichi's voice seemed to shake the very room. She was trying to sound angry, but in reality, she was on the verge of tears. "Please, Goku. Just . . . just do it for me, okay? Just this one time. And I'm sure everybody will be happy to see you."

"No they won't," Goku said coldly.

"Please, Goku."

"Fine, I'll go." He threw the covers off of his body, and rose to his feet. He grumbled, walking off to the bathroom.

Goku stared in the mirror, ashamed of what he had let himself become. Afraid. Hateful. Unforgiving.

He splashed his face with cold water from the sink. Maybe I should take a shower.

Goku had only brushed his teeth. He dried his face with a nearby towel, and looked at himself in the mirror once more. But it wasn't his face he saw. That wasn't him in the mirror.

Instead, it was the rotting, ancient thing that was supposed to his son. "Soon," the apparition croaked, trying to smile. "Very soon." Then it began to laugh in its horrible rotten voice.

Goku stumbled back, terrified. He let out a thin scream, and began pounding the mirror with his fist, sending shards a broken glass flying in all directions. He continued this until his hand started to bleed.

Chichi ran down the hallway and found Goku lying on the floor, crying.

She tried to help him. "It . . . I saw it in the mirror!" he blubbered.

"Let me see your hand." She inspected her husband's hand.

Goku pulled his hand away. "No!" he shouted. "It's fine." It took a few minutes to calm down. When he finally did, Chichi suggested that they just stay home.

"No. I'm fine. Just thought I saw something."

"I worry about you. I think you should stay home and get some rest."

"I can't," he said flatly. "I just can't anymore." Then, he added: "I'll be fine, okay? I'll be fine."

Against her better judgement, Chichi sighed and said, "Okay."

Very soon, the corpse repeated in Goku's mind.

Very soon . . .