𝓑𝓻𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓷 𝓢𝓸𝓾𝓵 (//SLOW UPDATES//)

Falling Apart

                  He sat there on his knees, quietly whimpering. His wrists sliced open, that dark burning liquid oozing out of the fresh wounds and onto the stone floor. The same red liquid splattered the pointed blade that lay in front of him.
                  His face was rather pale, with the exception of his eyes and nose being reddened from tears. His muscular arms were drenched in his own blood, and his once glorious black flame like hair was now matted and greasy. His white tank top had red staining and rips around the collar, and his dark bluejeans had small splatters of blood. The black and yellow boots he wore had mud on them, they were a bit old and some tears here and there.
                   It was dark and cold, the only light came from the open window behind him. The walls and floor looked to be made of tiles, the sheets of his bed were falling onto the floor. Paintings had fallen off of walls, and items had toppled into the cold floor from tables and dressers. Small shards of glass cluttered the ground beneath him.
                  He gazed down upon the mess that was his wrists, every single cut. Each one, large or thin, bled out that hot ooz. It made him sick to think that he, the prince of all saiyans, was reduced to a crying fool just sitting there and waiting for his life to come to a close. That was just it though, he was the prince of a dying race who was sold by his father to a mas murderer who made his life a living hell.
                 That was the first time someone had used him for their own pleasure. And that was the first time his confidence had been crushed to tiny pieces along with his pride. The tyrant had used the young saiyan as a source of relief, in multiple ways. Weather that be that ice jin needed relief because his stress had turned into pent up rage, or because he needed relief in a more...sexual way...
                 The second time was with that harpy of a woman. Bulma. She had used him as a sort of toy, just to play with until she got bored. Which was often. Once she got tired of their 'romantic times', she would find that earthling to pursue her demands and 'needs'. The banshee called him useless and selfish, along with other terms that he frankly couldn't nor wanted to remember, everyday. That was the second time a part of him had crumbled into fractures of what was once his pride and confidence.
                The third time he was used and his pride was broken was when he and Goku were fighting with pink bastard, Buu. He had begged and pleaded that the people of Earth needed to lend them their energy and power, but no one would listen to him. He listened to the spiteful words that were said about him, he heard how they spoke the poison sentences. He was self centered and arrogant, just like he always had been.

                His vision became increasingly blurry and his ears rang in a high pitched frequency. He heard his heartbeat in his head thump slowly, getting louder by the minute. A tingling sensation ran up his arms, slowly turning into numbness.

               The doorknob tilted as he became lost in his twisted thoughts, and soon came the light from the warm hallway. The shadow of a rather tall individual with hair that stuck out in different directions stood in the entrance to the cold room and gasped loudly with shock.

              "....Vegeta...?"