I know…I know. I can't stop writing new fanfictions.

This one is something that I just started to write, and I'm more or less winging the whole thing. I have some ideas on how I want it to go, but for now I'm just letting my fingers do the typing. The idea is this: Gohan is kidnapped and is tortured, raped, beaten, and abused until he is found. He seems to adjust being back, but there are issues. For one, he doesn't like speaking. There's also the fact that he's struggling to remember certain things, and people as well. Goku does his best to get Gohan to open up, but with horrible flashbacks and nightmares Gohan refuses to speak of what happened when he was chained up.

It begins before the Androids arrive, and will end about Buu saga.

I hope you enjoy some Gohan torture. Parts are written like Gohan was saying them, but not first person point of view. (Second person…third person?) IE: He only looked at Bulma, who was looking at him, and he didn't know what she wanted. Written like that.

I hope you enjoy the story!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything!

It was never peaceful.

No matter how times they said you were safe, it was all lies. There was supposed to be peace, even if it was for a short time. At least you could hope. When you're a child all you want is peace, happiness, and some freedom.

Peace, happiness, and freedom weren't for one child.

Chains on the wrist that were attached to the ceiling. Chains on the ankles connected to the ground. There was no food, no water, no warmth, and no light.

How long has it been? How long was he here for? The chains attached to him were tight on his swollen wrists. He lost feeling in his feet a long time ago. His energy was gone, and his body became light as air. Tortured, raped, beaten, and starved to death. He's been untouched for a while, left in his cage to die.

They got bored with him. He was alone. He couldn't wait to die.

How did this happen? He was taken away, right out of his father's arms. He was a toy. There was a time where he counted the days he was here. Five days…fifteen days…one hundred and twenty eight….two hundred...he stopped counting. No one was coming to save him. He gave up hope a long time ago.

Why won't his final breath just come?

There were noises. They were coming back for one more play date. It didn't matter what they did. He wouldn't scream any more, he stopped begging for mercy, he had no more tears to cry. This was why he was left here to die. Maybe they were just going to kill him. Make him experience a painful death. He wouldn't feel it anyway. His body was numb.

There was a light, but his long black hair blocked it from his face. There were mumbles, new mumbles. One was shouting, but he couldn't make out what he was saying. His cage door must have opened, because there two hands touching him. The hands were shaking. Why were they shaking?

Something wrapped around him. It was warm. It covered his head and most of his body. His chains were being tugged at. He tried a long time ago to break away, but he wasn't powerful enough. There was a loud cry, someone screaming a name. There was a golden light that flashed in front of him.

Oh…this must be an angel. He was dying, and she was trying to break him free from his chains.

His left arm fell limp, and then his right. The chains were supporting him up, but something caught him before he fell. His arms were quickly wrapped in the warmth. Soon he was lifted. The angel must have broken his ankle chains as well. The light from the door blinded him, and he tucked his head down.

So this was the light he heard a lot of people talk about.

He was warm, and being held. Oh…this is nice. There was a breeze that brushed across his face. The chains weight heavy on his wrists and ankles. He was too weak to lift them, to touch the angel. There were more mumbles, and he attempted to open his eyes.

Everything was blurry and bright. It was hard to see anything, but he did see colors. Orange and blue. Weren't angels supposed to be white, yellow even? In an attempted to lift his head he could see in a distance a blotch of blue, or was it purple? It was really hard to see since it was too bright. He hasn't seen light in a long time, and it was giving him a headache. There were more mumbles, and the blue-ish purple blob was closer.

Green?

Where did the green come from?

These weren't angels.

His eyesight wasn't getting any better. He couldn't even form the blue-ish purple green thing into…a person? Alien? He was looking at it for a while, as it talked to him, or the person who was carrying him. Either way, there was nothing he could do or say. He closed his eyes, wondering if the last thing he would see is the three colored blob.

(PG)

Mumbles.

There were more mumbles, but they were distant. Some part of his brain was trying to understand what they were saying. It was still difficult to hear, but it was getting better.

There was something covering his body. He wasn't wrapped, and there wasn't any wind. Whatever was on top of him smelled…clean? Clean and warm. His arms were on top of the cover, but he could feel something wrapped on his arms. Were they chains? No…they were not chains, but he couldn't feel the chains on his wrists. His feet felt funny too. There was this weird tingling sensation, so he shook his feet.

Oh! He can move them. He wiggled his toes. They work too!

He opened his eyes to some more light, and he used his arms to block some of it.

His arm…he can move it!

A rush of adrenaline shot through his body as he shot up. He clenched onto the fluffy thing over his body. A shot of pain hit him in parts of his body, but he bit his lips to hold back a scream. Once the pain settled down he looked at his surroundings. The fluffy thing he was holding was a white blanket. He hasn't seen on of these in a while. His arms were bandaged up, but his left arm had a plastic tube in his veins. It was connected to a plastic pouch that hung on a silver hanger. He heard the machine on the stand click, and watched as the bag let out a few drops.

What was this machine called again? TB? LP? IV? IV…it was an IV machine. He couldn't remember exactly what the machine was supposed to do, but he knew that it was helping him.

He touched his wrists where the chains used to be. They were gone, but they were wrapped up as well. He moved his fingers one by one, then clenched his hands. When was the last time he was able to do this?

He took the blanket and flung it off. It landed on the ground next to him. He looked down at his skinny legs. They were pale, like his arms, wrapped in bandages. He wondered if he looked in a mirror if he would look like a skeleton? He felt his hip bones, ribcage, shoulder bones...his face sunken in, his hair shorter?

He was cleaned up. All the dirt, grime…everything! He even smelled clean, and was dressed!

Partly dressed.

It was a gown that tied around his body, and boxers.

He leaned back onto his pillow, looking up at the ceiling. He wanted to get up out of bed, walk, run, fly, but his legs were a little heavy to even bend. He rolled over, which he was surprised he could do that, and used whatever strength he had to bend his knees. They did, with a struggle, bend slightly.

He was getting better. He wriggled his fingers once more, and clenched on his gown. Maybe it wasn't a great idea to toss his blanket off the bed. It took all he could to bend his knees, but it was worth it.

There were footsteps coming closer, but he wasn't ready to face his saviors. He closed his eyes, and waited for the footsteps to stop. He could hear voices…oh voices! Words! They weren't mumbles.

"Think he still wants the blanket on top of him?" It was a male's voice. It sounded familiar, but his memories were out of whack. He's been hit in the head so many times he forgot his own name. When he tried to recall his past, bits and pieces were there, but nothing really pulled together.

"In his state he needs it." A female's voice. She sounded familiar too. He has to know these people. The blanket covered his body once more, and he wiggled a little to get more comfortable. "He likes it."

"When do you think he'll wake up?" He just did.

"Hopefully soon. Once he wakes up we can see if he wants something to eat."

Eat…like food? FOOD!

"Goku, why don't you stay with him for a while and see if he wakes up?"

Goku…Goku…come on brain work! WORK!

"Thanks Bulma."

Another familiar name. Thinking was giving him another headache, but he wanted to remember these people, Goku and Bulma. He remembered hearing Goku before, saying Bulma's name, saying a lot of names. Think brain think! Before being taken away, what was the last thing he could remember? He had to think of people that he knew, faces, and hopefully names. What did he think about before he was 'toyed' with?

Where was his family? Why didn't they save him by now? The chains contained his powers, they couldn't sense him. He tried to communicate to Piccolo to tell them…Piccolo? Piccolo!

His eyes shot open, and pushed himself up from the bed. That blue-ish purple green thing was Piccolo!

"Gohan," Goku exclaimed. "Gohan what's wrong?"

What's a Gohan? Oh…he was Gohan. That was his name. The last time he heard his name was when his father was screaming it when he was taken away. That man, Goku, that man is his father!

His brain was started to work, but as soon as it started his lack of energy consumed him. His father's voice became distant, the room started to spin, and he was surrounded by darkness.

(PG)

Something smelled good.

Something smelled really good. Rice with peas and carrots, chicken soup, and fresh baked bread. Even if he couldn't remember faces and names, he could always remember what food smelled like.

He slowly opened his eyes to the ceiling. There he was, lying on his back again. He wiggled his fingers and toes to make sure they were still attached. It was still hard to believe he wasn't locked up anymore. Chained to the ground by his ankles, his arms hung from the ceiling, they would come in and-

He didn't want to think about it. He was safer now, and not around them.

What happened to them anyway? Maybe they were dead. He hoped they were dead.

"Are you hungry?"

He wasn't alone. He looked over at the voice and saw another woman. Her hair was black and pulled into a bun. She wore a yellow dress with a purple apron. Did her know her? She didn't sound familiar.

He nodded. This time he was extra careful when he sat up. The last thing he wanted to happen was to pass out again, especially when there was food to eat!

"Do you need me to feed you?" The food was placed on a table beside the IV machine.

He was weak, but not that weak. He shook his head as she handed him the bowl of rice. There was a spoon in the bowl, but he chose to ignore it. He used his hands and grabbed handfuls of rice and shoved them in his mouth instead.

Oh sweet food. Sweet, sweet food. The carrots kicked alive his taste buds, giving the bland rice a flavor of its own. It was gone in mere seconds, with rice still stuck on his face. He reached for the bread and quickly made an end to the loaf. The hot chicken soup burned his throat slightly, but he swallowed it down in seconds flat.

He looked at the empty plates and bowls in front of him. Maybe he shouldn't have rushed the whole thing. He tasted some of it. There were still some pieces of rice on his face that he pulled off and ate. There was a cup of something, hopefully for him, and he took it off the table. He took a small sip of what he found out was orange juice. He wanted to take his time, and not plow through like he did the food. The small sip soon turned into a big sip. The big slip was now gulps. The cup was empty.

His throat was moist, slightly scratchy from the soup, but he found himself swallowing his spit for moisture. He can't remember the last time he could do that. He looked at the lady sitting by him, smiling. She wasn't shocked that he ate his meal in less than five minutes? Maybe she can give him more food.

He grabbed his bowl and raised it up.

"Do you want more food?" He nodded. "Okay. I'll get you more food."

She picked up the dishes he dropped on his bed. He picked up some rice that has fallen and quickly ate it. He was wide awake now, waiting for more food. His stomach was growling in anticipation. When she came back there was no food. Did she lie to him, like they lied to him?

"We have lots of food in the kitchen," she said. "I'm going to take you there. Can you walk?" He could barely bend his knees. He wanted to try again, but if it took to much energy to where he passed out he wasn't going to attempt it. He shook his head no. "Okay. I'm going to get Bulma to take the IV out, then we'll head to the kitchen."

She smiled at him. Within minutes Bulma appeared, taking out the IV. Bulma…he first met her at some guys house who had a turtle, then again when they went to Namck to bring Piccolo back to life with the Dragonballs. His brain decided to work today!

The woman with the purple apron picked him up out of bed. She smelled nice, like flowers. Things were starting to come back to him, little by little. He could remember a lot about Piccolo, and some things about his father. His thoughts were quickly distracted when he saw a table full of food. There was more rice, chicken, turkey, sushi, vegetables, potatoes, and many more. He wanted to eat it all.

She placed him in a chair, moving his legs under the table. Before anyone could say anything he grabbed the nearest piece of food and chomped it down. He didn't want to flavor the food; he just wanted his stomach full. The dirty dishes were taken away by Bulma while the other woman gave him cups of water. He couldn't remember when he had a meal this big, but he would think about it later. Right now he wanted to eat.

His stomach was getting full, a feeling he hasn't felt in a long time. There was still a lot of food left, but he wasn't able to eat it all. He wanted to, he really wanted to, but his stomach kept saying no. He leaned back in his chair and put his hand on his stomach. His skeleton like body had a belly. His hands were a mess though. Before he could lick them clean the lady with the purple apron cleaned them off with a rag, along with his face.

"Full," she asked. He nodded his head. She picked him up once more. He leaned his head on her shoulder and held onto her collar. Sleep was near, and this time he didn't mind it. He had a full stomach.

He peeked around the corner to see if anyone was nearby. So far he couldn't see anybody, so he decided to step out. After a few days he got his legs moving. He couldn't go very far without his legs feeling heavy, but today he was going to make a break for it. Today, he was going to run.

He jumped up and down a few times to warm up his legs. He looked left, then right, then left one more time. No one was around. He took a deep breath, and took off down the hallway. He passed by a few robots, zigging and zagging in the hallway, and jumping over a table. His legs started to hurt, but he ignored it. He needed to get his legs stronger so he didn't have to be carried around.

"Where do you think you're going brat?"

He stopped dead in his tracks. His legs had shooting pain from the stop, but he ignored them. He turned to the voice and saw someone new. There stood a man, spiked black with a v like shape on his forehead. He didn't look familiar either, like the lady with the purple apron, but there was a voice yelling in the back of his head that he should know who he is. Nothing was coming to him.

"Well?" What was he supposed to do? The slightly scary man looked at him. "Do you even know who I am?"

Did the spiked hair man see his confusion on his face? Was he mad at him for running in the hall?

"Speak up brat!"

He took off down the hall. He wasn't sure where his legs were taking him, but he ended up running up a set of stairs and bursting into a bedroom. His legs gave way as he sat on top of them, catching his breath. He tried to move his legs, but they were lifeless. He pushed a little too much today, and he wasn't sure if he would make it back to his room before he got in trouble.

Oh no…

What if they thought he was escaping? Are they going to chain him down like them so he doesn't escape again? Are they going to take his food away? Is that man he just saw…is he going to…

He started shaking. He tried to stand on his feet, but when he looked at them he saw the chains. He looked at his wrists that showed identical cuffs like his ankles. He tried to crawl away, but there was a wall. C'mon legs! Move. MOVE!

Footsteps.

He looked around, but he could see nothing. They were coming for him. They were going to hurt him. The door opened with one of his torturers standing there. He couldn't see him, but he knew that he was smiling. Was everything that happened earlier just a figment of his imagination? The days passing? The food? Did he completely lose his mind from being locked up for so long? He was going to get hurt again, either by using him as a punching bag or some sort of sick torture. He couldn't run, there was nowhere to hide, and his torturer was getting closer.

He screamed, yelled for help, and scratched the wall. Someone had to hear him. ANYONE!

Vegeta stopped walking towards Gohan. The kid was freaking out, trying to scream but nothing was coming out. The paint was being ripped off by his fingernails, attempting to escape. Gohan's eyes were mere specks, nothing but fear came out of the young child.

"For heaven's sake brat I'm not going to hurt you," Vegeta said. Gohan still clawed, shaking, and stuck in some sort of cruel flashback. Vegeta rolled his eyes and walked by the door. "Kakarot! Something's wrong with your brat! Tell him to stop clawing off the paint on my wall!"

He could hear Goku running, followed by the footsteps of Chi-Chi and Bulma. Party at Vegeta's room.

Vegeta stepped out of the way to let Goku in the bedroom. Bulma and Chi-Chi stopped by the door, not sure if they should help or stay back.

"He was doing so well," Chi-Chi said as tears filled her eyes.

"Then don't look," Vegeta said as he closed the door in their face. He looked over at Goku, who didn't know what to do to control his son. "Talk to him Kakarot!"

"What do I say," Goku asked. His son was crying.

"Tell him to toughen up! It's a bad nightmare! I don't know but he's ruining my wall! I just had it painted!"

"Vegeta I don't care about your wall!"

The window in Vegeta's room shattered. Piccolo stepped over the glass on the bed, and made his way over to Gohan. He looked at Goku, who was terrified himself, then back at Gohan. He squatted down in front of Gohan.

"Kid," Piccolo spoke. Nothing. "Kid!" The scratching stopped. "It's okay kid. You're just remembering something traumatic. You're okay. No one here is going to hurt you again."

Goku watched as his Gohan began to relax. Whatever he was remembering was fading away, and his senses were coming back.

'I see now,' Goku thought as Gohan wiped away the tears on his face. He couldn't let the fear from Gohan rub off on him. The fear, the shaking…Goku didn't know how to help his son. He was paralyzed.

"Better," Piccolo asked. Gohan nodded, trying to shake the images from his mind. "Good."

Piccolo got up from the ground.

"You better fix my window Namck," Vegeta sneered. Piccolo looked over at Vegeta and smirked.

"Put it on my tab," he said before he took off. Vegeta growled.

Goku took a deep breath as he walked over to Gohan. He sat down on the ground next to him, hiding his worry from earlier.

"You had a good run, didn't you," he asked. Gohan looked at him, surprised that he knew he ran. "That's good though. Your legs are getting stronger, and before you know it you'll be flying too!"

Gohan hasn't talked since he was rescued, but no one was pushing him to.

"Yeah, yeah yeah…the brat is feeling better, so can you get him out of my room," Vegeta barked. "I have to fix a broken window so I have a place to sleep!"

Goku stood up on his feet.

"Can you get up," he asked Gohan. Gohan was a little hesitant, biting his lip wondering if his legs had the strength to stand. Goku put out his hand. "Here. Grab my hand and pull yourself up."

Gohan's facial expressions gave away what he was thinking. He didn't know how to stand from the ground, but if he could pull himself up them maybe he could take a few steps. Gohan grabbed Goku's hand, and attempted to pull himself up. Goku was proud that his son was still a fighter, but he still needed a helped hand.

Without Gohan knowing, Goku lifted his arm up slowly getting Gohan to his feet. Once Gohan was on his feet he stood there, testing his leg strength before anything else. Goku saw a small smile on his son's face. It was a small accomplishment, but a big step in Goku's eyes.

Gohan took a few steps, but the steps were slow and short. He wasn't going to make it very far. Goku swooped Gohan up in the air and put him on his shoulders.

"You did enough for the day son." Goku said as he opened the door. Chi-Chi and Bulma, who were eaves dropping the entire time, put on fake smiles to hide their worry. "We're going out for some ice cream!"

"You can't take him out yet," Chi-Chi hollered as she walked behind Goku. "He's still not healthy yet! He needs to rest Goku!"

"He needs some fresh air Chi-Chi. He hasn't been outside yet." Goku turned around to face Chi-Chi. Both Goku and Gohan were pouting. How can she say no to that?

"Fine," she said, shaking her head. "But if he comes back sick-"

"Thanks Chi-Chi!" Goku began to trot off.

"Goku he's still in the hospital gown!"

"So? It's just ice cream!"

There was no point in arguing anymore. Goku still lacked some sense, but that's what Chi-Chi loved about him. Besides, the agreement she heard behind her was louder anyway.

"I didn't break the window woman," Vegeta shouted

"Oh, so some sort of window breaking fairy came in instead," Bulma retorted back.

"It wasn't a window break fairy, it was the Namck!"

"So where is 'the Namck'? I see nothing but you and a broken window!"

"He flew out the window!"

"Right, and then the tooth fairy came and put a dollar under your pillow." Bulma rolled her eyes and walked out of the room.

So what did you guys think? I know it's a little bland right now, and the story of how Gohan was captured will be explained later in the story. Please be kind and review

Thank you.

Love,

CrazyGohanGurl