Warning: I do not own Dragon Ball Z or it's characters the only thing that I own is the plot, so don't bother suing me because all you will get is some homework and my dragons and you can't have my dragons.

Warning: This story is rated R, for a good reason. In later chapters it will start getting very dark and angsty. There are drugs, rape, suicide, torture, and murder. Also, vulgar language and racial comments are used in the story and it is not my intention to offend.

Send off a grate thank you to my Bata editor The Great Poptart

Prologue

The cold eye's stared down into my soul. The hard eyes that laugh at my pain, that fed on it. Will those eyes ever go away?

Jerking awake my hand slips toward the knives that I no longer carry. Sighing, I wonder if the dreams will ever leave me? Getting up slowly, the scars and old wounds pull threateningly, a warning of the ache that would follow if I were to go to fast. Ah to be young again, I think to myself as a horde of young children run past, shrieking and yelling insults to one another. Then again, few Saiya-jin ever live long enough to complain about stiff joints and growing to old to fight!

Shaking my head I let my eyes wonder over to my small hand made bookcase in the far corner. In the bookcase are perhaps twenty well-worn leather bound books. Wandering over there, I randomly pick a book and open it to rough sketch of a very strange looking space shuttle. Smiling, I remember Vegeta's face when he found out that this ship contained over three hundred men, women, and children Saiya-jin.

Chuckling to myself I head back over to my chair, but before settling in I stir up the fire to chase away the chill that had come while I napped. Settling comfortably into my chair again, I watch as the sun slowly drops below the horizon and I let the heat from the fire seep in to my bones.

As the last rays of the sun disappear I suddenly realize I have no wish to be alone this night. The night of the anniversary.

Shuddering away from the thoughts for now I concentrate on finding my cloak and gloves. Finding them, I go out the door and head to the town's only tavern, not bothering to lock the door. Thieves where dealt with harshly and no one would dare steal from me.

Shivering in a sudden gust of wind, I pulled the cloak closer to me as I step into the Blood Moon Tavern. The sweet smells of roast pig and burning Cedar wood greeted me.

"Master Gohan, Master Gohan, a pleasure to see you! Come, come! Why are you hovering by the door? A seat by the fire, will it be? Of course, of course, and a fine slab of the roasting pig," yelled Carmond the owner of the Blood Moon Tavern.

I smiled and allowed myself to be ushered over to the table closest to the fire knowing it was of no use arguing. Leaning back, I propped my feet up and basked in the warmth of the fire. Only then did I allow the thoughts to come.

A polite cough succeeded in capturing my attention. I turn to my neighbor.

"One was wondering what has brought you out hear this cold winter evening," his gruff voice inquired.

"One thought to chase away unwanted thoughts with a warm fire and good company," I replied as the food came with a big mug of mulled apple cider.

No alcohol was served in this town. Drinking was dangerous in this town.

Perhaps sensing an opportunity for a story, the man, for I did not know his name, continued, "I have learned that speaking of your thoughts sometimes helps clear your mind of them."

"More memories then thoughts," I murmur.

"Then do tell, for we know so little about you," my neighbor says.

"Yes."

"Do."

"Oh, please do, Master Gohan!"

Embarrassed, I didn't realize I had become such a mystery to people and agreed to tell the story.

So, for the fist time I found myself gathering my memories and told the complete story of my life.

Slow, I know but it gets better in the next chapter. I promise!