Domination

WELL..... look at that...... I actually decided to put the rest of this story on here......... not that I'm a huge fan of AFF, but i might as well since i had half of Domination on here. SO, shall we continue?

Disclaimer: I do not own DB/Z/GT. They belong to Akira Toriyama. But i DO own all the OCs. Do NOT take my OC's without permission, especially Dillon. That OC is my pride and joy.

Warning: Sex, Violence, physical abuse, drug and alcohol abuse

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Domination Chapter 15: Abuse.


Goten’s POV

Fields of gold and rivers of blood… this pure beauty cannot truly be seen in reality. Only in the extent of my crazed mind can I find this escape and this serenity. When the world has become too much for me to handle, I run away to the inner workings of my brain and submerge myself into the fantasy. It is always warm here, the blazing sun shining down onto my bare skin and over the golden strands of long grass. With the warmth comes a breeze to always follow, making the valley look like a beautiful gold ocean. My feet lead me to the bank of a river of red, the stench it causes no longer bothering me like before when I first stumbled upon this place. I knelt down to look into the river, seeing the body parts float by. This no longer scares me, but instead is very welcoming. I reach down into the river, letting the blood rush over my arm, purring at its warmth. ‘How did I get here?’ The question that I had thought to myself echoed all over the area, making me look up.

Intriguing…

But really, how did I? I usually do not end up in this escape unless something traumatic happens to me on the outside. Reaching my arm up from the river, I look to see that my arms had bruises on them that were not there before just minutes ago. They reminded me of finger bruises, from someone holding onto my arm too hard. I shook my arm to rid myself of the blood and stepped over to an open area where the grass had not grown. This was intriguing as well, considering this field never had patches in them. I kicked at the dirt, the brown dust floating up into the air to stop in front of me. Looking a little harder, it gave a sepia looking mirrored image of me, making me see my own reflection.

The sight was shocking. Seeing my face in this dusty mirror, I was baffled to notice that it looked like I had been beaten bloody. I had 2 purple and black eyes, a broken nose with blood still running down from it, my lips were cut and my jaws were splotched with purple and black bruises as well. At realizing someone had hurt me, I found myself coughing up blood and spitting out a molar. I parted my lips to see that I had bitten my tongue, a chunk of the muscle pierced from my sharp teeth and missing, that too bleeding profusely.

The wind blew harder, causing the dust-like mirror to disappear, making my hair twist and turn. I didn’t feel the pain of the apparent abuse I underwent, but I could tell how awful the beating had left my face when I touched it. Something was trailing down the back of my neck, catching my attention. Reaching back and moving my fingers up the trail of liquid, I found a gash in the back of my head. No wonder I felt so… out of it. Maybe that is why I just suddenly appeared in my favorite recess of my mind. But, what happened?

As the wind continued to blow, I looked up to the dark, storm-like clouds in the sky. The sky had never been gray and black like it was now, and to tell the truth, it frightened me. I watched as a face was formed in the blackened clouds, my fingers still pressing against the gash in my head, feeling the muck and meat, warm blood coating my hand.

Seconds later, and I was looking at my lover, Dillon. He had a dark, teeth-clenched scowl on his handsome face, seething with hate and rage. His eyes were burning with that same haunting emotion. The distortion made him look demonic, the blackened clouds only helping to add to that image of the Devil. I had never seen him like this. What felt like my safe haven in this field of gold now felt like judgment day with Dillon looking down on me like that.

The panic that came to me awakened my instinct to run, to get away from the face in the sky. The ocean of gold seemed never ending as my legs carried me from the fear. The dark storm clouds followed me and grew into enormous size, lighting from the black formations struck at the ground, bringing fire to my once beautiful valley of gold and red. I tripped over the rocks in the field and fall to my face with a groan. I feel my heart beating like a thousand drums as the presence of evil is felt around my body.

Shaking, I look over my shoulder to see a dark, shadow-like figure with glowing red eyes and large horns on its head glaring at me. I felt frozen where I sat as the wind blew around me, the demonic looking man standing over me. As I tried to speak, the demon put his hand up and closed his hand to silence me, feeling my throat tighten as he blocked my air with his powers. With the movement of his wrist, my body floats up into the air and stops in front of him. I struggled desperately to breath, clawing at my throat to stop the suffocation hold. Just as I was about to scream out a cry for mercy, I was able to get a good look into those red, demonic eyes. I stopped struggling, recognizing them anywhere, no matter what color.

‘Dillon…?’

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A soft hand on my face.

Fingers running through my hair.

“Goten…?”

I groan. My whole face was on fire and throbbing in pain, the world around me black because my eyes were closed shut. There are those fingers through my hair again. And that silky, velvet-like voice. “Goten...?” I know that voice.

Opening my eyes slowly, painfully, I lock them onto a pair of artificial ones. I blink a few times to rid myself of the blur in my sight, groaning again, and open them fully to stare at Raven. He is looking at me in concern and worry, helping me to rise up from my downward position. I hurt all over, mostly in my face and head. “The hell…. happened….?” I try to speak, my voice hoarse and quite, looking down at my hands to see them covered in dry mud and something red. I lift them to sniff; blood.

“Y-you don’t remember….?” Raven speaks to me, going to touch me again but I flinch away.

“If I remembered, do you think I would ask?”

Raven looked down and tucked his hair behind his ear in a nervous habit, but the black silk fell back in place. “I guess not…” He stood up, saying he would be right back and left me where I was. I winced at the sharp pain behind my left eye, clenching it shut until it subsided, then took in my surroundings. I was sitting on a mattress on the floor with pillows and blankets all over it. The thing was pushed into the corner of a small room that had stained beige walls and a filthy carpet to match. Next to the mattress was a radio alarm clock on the floor and a window with broken blinds. The wall next to the window had a bookshelf against it, with books and trinkets of Raven’s personal interest filling it. Across from the mattress I was on, was a sliding tin-door that led to a closet, which was next to the door. On the door, was a mirror.

The door opened, making the mirror slap against it and Raven came inside with a washcloth, a first aid kit and a bottle of pills. “Where am I?” I asked him as he plopped down next to me, his eyes avoiding my own.

“My apartment…” He spoke softly still, popping open the pills and pouring out several of them. “I brought you here after you ran off from Voorhees’s house…” He handed over the pills and I just looked at his hand, confused. My head began to hurt again as I tried to remember the past few hours.

“Voorhees’s house….” I mumbled, lifting my hand to hold my head but quickly pulled it away, feeling a gash, fresh blood and scabby crust on my fingers. I looked to Raven in serious panic.

“Don’t freak out!” He grabbed my shoulder and held me in place, bringing the washcloth up to wipe at the blood that was now running down my forehead. “You really took a beating…” He sighed and dabbed at the cut in my head, making me wince at the pain. I looked at him curiously, my eyes hurting immensely, watching as he tried his best to keep himself together in front of me. “H-here…. Take these pills. It will help with the pain…” He put the pills in my hand, continuing to doctor me up.

I swallowed down the pills and grabbed his wrist, pulling it away and looking into his eyes. “What happened to me?” I asked none too nicely, wanting answers now.

He looked away, almost ashamed, and sighed again, “Go look in the mirror….” He gestured to the mirror on his door and I couldn’t help my curiosity, standing and staggering over to the reflective glass. At first, I thought it all had to be a trick my mind was playing, like it always did to me now. But reaching up to my face and touching places here and there, I could not deny the clear evidence of a brutal ass-kicking it had undergone. Raven had cleaned my up pretty well before I awoke, but the injuries were clear as day.

I had 2 purple and black eyes, a broken nose, my lips were cut and my jaws were splotched with purple and black bruises as well… Panic crossed me again, finding the coincidence of my injuries in reality and in my “dream” almost too similar. I leaned closer to the mirror, opening my mouth to see that yes, I had bitten my tongue severely while my back molar was chipped. Thinking about the gash in the back of my head, like the dream, I skimmed my fingers up my neck to feel an injury that was sticky and gel-like.

“Don’t mess with it too much. I don’t have a lot of gauze left…” I heard Raven speak up, turning around and looking at my bruised arms, unwanted tears slipping from my bruised eyes. I couldn’t move, too much in shock at what I had just seen.

The hybrid Android was at my side in an instant, leading me back over to the bed slowly, luckily the pills he had given me making the pain I was feeling start to simmer down. I sat down in the mass amounts of pillows and blankets, still unable to comprehend what had happened to myself. “R-Ray…?” I whimpered, desperate for an explanation at this point.

I knew he didn’t want to be the one to tell me. I could see it all over his face, how torn up he was, feeling awkward and sad at the situation. “W-well……… where do I start….?” He looked all around his room, fidgeting with his pants. “Voorhees…. If you remember, he was throwing a party at his house, since his parents were out of town and his Nanny had the night off. He invited us and a ton of other people that he had met from God knows where…” He looked at me, wondering if anything rang a bell. I thought about it all and nodded a little, vaguely remembering a huge mass of people in Voorhees’s home. The more I think on it, it dawns on me.

“I was on some serious, new medication from my psychiatrist…” I nodded and Raven nodded with me, encouraged to continue since it was slowly coming back.

“Yes. I was worried about you being there with all of those people since….well… you know…” I could tell he was referring to my illness and I told him to just go on. “But Voorhees said we had nothing to worry about since you were on some new medication that was supposed to seriously mellow you out but help you to relax and socialize. And, at the start of the party, you were fine. Like, eerily fine… Talking, dancing a little, and functioning as if… you were normal…”

I chuckled at the idea of me being normal. How long had it been since I developed this mental instability? 3 years now? I forget what it was like being the “normal Goten” with all of the medication changing my brain chemistry to fight against the schizophrenia, or the schizophrenia alone. Raven looked at me, waiting to get my attention again. “Sorry, go on…”

“I should have known it was too good to be true… I know I haven’t been around that long, but I do know that when Voorhees has anything to do with trouble, he takes it to the extreme. Everything was just fine until he broke into his parent’s alcohol and let everyone have at it. Next thing you know, I was seeing weed and bongs, ecstasy and cocaine. He even took out a huge mixing bowl and filled it with all sorts of pills and medication, telling everyone he was dying to know what a ‘pill party’ was like. After all this, it got a little out of hand. Voorhees was way out of his mind with booze, coke and pills. But…. It’s not like I was completely innocent, either…

“Needless to say, I was fucked up. Voorhees was fucked up. Everyone was. As for you and Dillon…” I watched as his eyes flickered at the name of my lover, sensing something wrong from the sound of his voice and how he looked around nervously. Interesting… “From what I recall, you two were having fun. You got into some alcohol and pot, even though we all knew it wasn’t good for you. Dillon was getting a little upset at all of us letting you indulge, but we said that you needed a good night of getting stupid after everything you’ve been through. And, as we all know, Voorhees doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut. He told Dillon to relax and just let go, have a few drinks, smoke some pot and be a teenager for once in his life. Then, YOU told him to do the same. I guess since he saw you were fine after some vodka and weed, he finally caved in and let go…”

Raven’s POV

It had been quite easy to tell Goten what all had happened up to this point. Nothing had happened too extremely terrible that I felt the need to skip over. He wanted the truth, didn’t he? Recalling the event from just 2 hours ago, I saw all of the stupid mistakes that led up to Goten’s injuries. We shouldn’t have let Goten have alcohol and weed while on medication. We shouldn’t have pressured Dillon into boozing it up and “letting loose.” Hell, we shouldn’t have invited them. How were we supposed to know what would happen if Dillon did JUST that; let loose. How were any of us supposed to know Dillon’s family history of violent alcohol abuse?

I took a deep breath, ready to continue with the story. It all came back too clearly for my liking…

//Loud music, bodies rubbing together, alcohol and E getting passed along, lines of cocaine on any flat surface, joint after joint of pot; it was a crazy party. Were those people having sex on the kitchen table? What did it matter anyway? I was too messed up to care. I danced throughout the house with a drink in hand, flirting with guys and girls alike, grabbing ass with whomever I felt, sometimes getting pushed against a wall to make out with a horny teenager.

Man, if daddy could see his little boy now.

It felt incredible to do this. I’ve never really been to a serious party like this. Even the clubs I’ve snuck into out of curiosity weren’t as insane as this. I now knew how one could get so easily wrapped up in the party scene, finding it an incredible escape from my normal life. I had no cares as I did shot after shot of vodka, took turns taking long drags on some pot and shot gunning it with someone else, making sexual advances with anyone I considered hot while having the mouth of a sailor. Worked up and very horny, I felt it was time to give in to Voorhees’s own advances on me and find somewhere to fuck our brains out. Of course, not all before vomiting in a nearby plant.

I made my way upstairs to the loft overhead, high and drunk, searching for the adorable Australian slut only to find Goten and Dillon amongst a large group of people, surrounding a beer pong table. Instead of the drinking game, Dillon and a man of about the same size were matching each other shot for shot of Jagermeister, Jack Daniels and Goldschläger. Goten was at Dillon’s side, cheering him on with everyone else, spotting me and telling me to come over and rub Dillon’s ass for good luck. How could I refuse a delicious offer like that?

The closer I got, the more I saw just how trashed the famous Dillon Santinni was. It was definitely shocking to see such an under control and professional guy wasted beyond his control; sweaty, cheeks blood red with extremely glazed eyes, leaning to the left as he was unable to keep himself upright. I wonder if he could even think straight. Goten had his hands all over me as we watched Dillon suck back the alcohol, his frown getting deeper and deeper. From our fucked up points of view, we saw a drunken man trying to concentrate on the competition at hand, growling with each shot he took as he tried not to hurl. We were having fun; why think that the scowling, slurs, and grunts from the Italian-born man were that of a churning, black hate coming to the surface quite fast?

Across the table, his competitor tried to take a shot but fell backwards, hitting the floor and passing out instantly. We all cheered and crowded around Dillon, whom was trying not to fall over as well. He held onto his head and swayed back and forth, glaring as he looked at the floor, groaning while his upper lip twitched. As high and drunk as I was, I knew something was wrong right then and there. “Ok guys give him some room,” I remember saying, but no one listened to me. I wish they had because before we all knew it, Dillon spun around and brought his fist across a guy’s face, sending the teen to the floor.

I felt something start to rise in Dillon, as if he had actual ki he could control like me or Goten and his family. He gave no mercy to the man he punched, grabbing a chair and breaking it over the guy’s back, making him scream out. Everyone hurried to stop Dillon from causing anymore drunken harm but he pushed and shoved them all away. Goten got to the Italian before I could and everything after that happened so fast and out of control that there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Dillon gave a cry of rage, that same thing inside of him that I was feeling earlier spiked up immensely, causing my entire soul to shake. He grabbed Goten’s head, shoving him forward to crash against the wall, smashing Goten’s nose in. I gasped and yelled Goten’s name, stepping forward to bring everything to a halt but Dillon moved at an incredible speed, continuing to smash the Saiyan against the wall, breaking a hole in it. I attempted to grab him but he swung Goten around and followed after him. “Dillon stop!!!” I yelled but was too drunk to function, let alone stop a drunken man from beating the hell out of his lover.

I tried my best to keep up with the two, watching Dillon smack and shove Goten around with that deep, dark glare on his drunken face until Goten was on the floor. Goten moaned a “stop” but Dillon kept at it, savagely breaking his face in, blood starting to splatter against the walls and carpet, holding him down with his knees and free hand. People around us stopped and simply stared in shock as Goten now started screaming and pleading with the Italian man to stop. What felt like an eternity was only a few seconds when I caught up to the two and jumped on Dillon, pulling him off of Goten.

Dillon’s elbow came up and socked me in the jaw with immense strength that I didn’t think he held in that human body of his, making me wonder if he were human at all. In that instant, I sobered up fast, watching Goten try his best to get away but Dillon grabbed his ankle and dragged him across the loft past everyone and hurled him down the stairs. “GOTEN!!” I screamed and watched in horror as he fell down and landed with a bad thud on the back of his head, whining. Enough was enough. This had to stop. Dillon was going to kill him at this point.

As Dillon reached the bottom of the stairs, I jumped from the loft over the banisters and down to the first floor, running forward and tackling the man down. We slid across the hardwood floors as I brought my fist back and struck him in the face hard. When he was still moving, I did it again. And again. And AGAIN. When he stopped moving, I got up and looked around, trying to see where Goten was. “Goten?!?”//

I looked at Goten to see him staring down at his bruised arms again, shaking his head a little, tears trapped in his chocolate eyes. I didn’t know whether to continue or not, feeling my heart break for the Saiyan that I didn’t know very well. The awkward silence was killing me so I kept talking. “S….. Someone told me that you ran outside and down the street. I couldn’t just let you be alone like that so I went after you. You ran and ran for miles until you just dropped in the middle of a highway… I…. I picked you up and flew you back to my apartment… we’re on the west side. Trust me, no one will think to look here…” I reached out and stroked his arm softly.

He didn’t flinch this time when I touched him. Just looked at me with sad, sad eyes. “Ray…” he whimpered, letting those big tears fall from his eyes.

“I’m sorry Goten…. I’m so sorry….” I scooted closer to him and hesitantly put my arms around him, gasping as he threw his around me. I wasn’t much for physical contact due to having none as a child, but I would do anything to comfort Goten at this point. I was so terribly crushed for him. I stroked his wild hair and let him cry in my arms, feeling a bond form between us with this moment, knowing that we were tied for life.

“Stay with me as long as you want, Goten. I’ll be here for you.”

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Goten’s POV

I stayed with Raven that night, but sleep never found me. The throbbing pain came back in my face, but not as much as in my heart. Dillon hit me… Worse, he beat the hell out of me. I know that Dillon has always had a violent side to him; I had seen it. He had no remorse for those that crossed him and felt that to have power and respect, one must fear him. All of this, but he never raised a hand to me. Never once threatened it or implied it. Though he was stern with me, he was nothing more than loving and gentle otherwise. But… all of that didn’t seem to matter anymore…

What is it that they always say about an abusive partner? That once they stop, it will never falter? You will become trapped and co-dependent on them, always making excuses to not leave the horrid situation you were in? So what if this was a one-time occurrence? I am already convinced that it will happen again.

Raven is awake again and throwing up next to me in a trashcan. I reach over and rub his back for comfort as he yaks away, the alcohol and drugs having a really bad effect on him. He saved me, and he didn’t even have to. I owe him everything knowing that if it weren’t for him, Dillon would have surely killed me. We didn’t even know each other that well; his father hated mine. All of those factors, and he still went out of his way –drunk and drugged- to protect me. I loved him for it.

He groans and collapses again, body shivering in the spasms of sickness he was feeling. I continued to rub his back, feeling as he started to sleep once again, my thoughts drifting off to Dillon again. What was I going to do? How could I even think to go back? How could he just wail on me like that? What had I done to provoke it? How would I be able to never do it again? What was the point?

I’m so torn…

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“Goten….. oh my goodness…. What happened to you…?” Simoko stared at her patient as he walked into the cozy therapy room, suddenly seeing the bruises and swelled cuts on his face. She stood, instantly worried and fearful for her patient, walking over to him and helping him to sit down on the lounge. Like a mother, she ran her fingers through his thick, messy black hair. “Did someone hurt you..?” She looked at him with concern and slight anger, being a strong advocate of Violent against with the Mentally Unstable.

Goten didn’t answer her but just stared ahead, in a daze from his medication that he took earlier in the hour. She patted his shoulder and stood, excusing herself and stepping out to find his father. Goku looked at her and stood as well, walking with her down the hall a little so that they had privacy in the building. The Saiyan man knew instantly what it was all about.

“I know… I should have called ahead of time to tell you……” he started, nervous around the fiery psychiatrist.

“What happened to him???” She crossed her arms and stared at Goku.

“I…. I really don’t know. He won’t say… He took off with Dillon and this new friend of his and was gone for nearly a week. When he came home, he was all beat to pieces. I’d like to think that he just got into a brawl with someone who had something to say –like in school- but that hasn’t happened in… god.. nearly a year? Dillon has always been there to prevent it or stop it as it happens…” Goku looked up at the stunningly beautiful doctor.

Her presence always made him nervous or even giddy. She had been in their lives for almost 6 months now, always seeing her 2-3 times a week when bringing Goten to his sessions. Each time, he was more and more anxious to see her. The poor Saiyan man had been having it extremely rough in his own personal life, without the issues of a schizophrenic son hanging over his head. Dr. Simoko Chan was a blessing in disguise, talking to him more and more with each visit. And God, did he crave that intimacy with someone.

“I have to wonder if that Briefs kid did this… he’s always had it out for Goten… Don’t worry, Mr. Son. I’ll get to the bottom of it… You have my word.” She smiled and stroked his arm for comfort, and it made Goku really feel that things were ok. He watched her turn and retreat back to the room that Goten was in, smiling to himself, drinking in her image and figure.

An hour and a half later, Simoko appeared with Goten next to her. Goku was relieved that some life had come back to his withdrawn son, seeing the boy finally smiling a little and talking softly. She motioned for Goku to join her and the man did as he was asked, stepping into the room and feeling at home in its décor and comfort. Simoko came in and sat behind her large desk, pulling out a bobby pin and letting her gold locks fall all around her face and shoulders, sighing to herself. Goku had to catch his breath at the sight.

“How ever do you do it..?” he asked softly, meaning her job.

She looked at him with those sharp green eyes, smiling and leaning back in her chair, relaxing. “It takes a tough demeanor and the ability to withdrawal emotions so that your heart isn’t on your sleeve. I couldn’t do this job if I got emotionally involved with each patient—as hard as that is.” She locked those intelligent and beautiful orbs on him.

He swallowed a bit, rubbing the nape of his neck in famous Son fashion. “S… So…. What happened to Goten..?”

She sighed and leaned forward, clasping her hands together. “Mr. Son… he told me he got into a fight. With Trunks. It was just as I suspected.” She looked at him, seeing him stress right in front of her eyes. Of course she didn’t believe her patient. She could read people like open books, and she knew that Goten was lying to her. She knew he was protecting someone. And the worst part was she had a strong inclination as to who had beaten him bloody. “My best suggestion is to get him out of that house, Mr. Son. Before some more damage happens to him. He cannot live in an environment of violence with his condition.”

Goku rubbed his eyes, just so tired from everything. He felt like he was drowning, always gasping for breath and suffocating as he fought his best. He had never been through anything like this. It wasn’t a physical battle, nor was it a threat against the human race. It was his son—his crazy son. If the world’s strongest fighter couldn’t solve this problem, then what good was he?

He snapped out of his daze when he felt the couch move next to him. Simoko was sitting by him, smiling and patting his hand. “Mr. Son, I know it’s hard.. trust me… I work with people like Goten all the time and it’s very stressful and difficult, so I cannot even begin to fathom it as a parent. You have to be strong. You cannot give up on him. When it comes right down to it, family is the only thing that people have. Goten is lucky to have someone who bleeds for him everyday like you…” She held his hand and Goku’s heart raced. How long had it been since he had simply held someone’s hand?

He looked at her and back to their hands, thinking to himself that it felt right to have this touch with someone. Especially someone as… gorgeous as she was. “I…” he shook his head, getting himself out of those strange thoughts. This was Goten’s psychiatrist for God’s sake! He tried to crack a smile, pulling his hand away. “I’m sorry… it has been rough.. I’m really trying. The things at home haven’t been helping, ya know?” He tried to laugh it off, not wanting to believe his own situations behind closed doors.

Simoko felt his desperation. She could tell he needed someone to talk to. He was crumbling on the inside, not having a soul to turn to about his problems. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, smiling at him still. “You know… you can talk to me, Mr. Son… I promise I won’t charge you for it.” She giggled.

He looked at her, confused. “Huh..?”

She ran her fingers through her golden locks. “I said, ‘you can talk to me.’ I’m not just a psychiatrist for schizophrenics, but I’m also a friend. I’m not allowed to see my patients outside of this office, but that doesn’t mean anything when it comes to others…” She grinned, “All I’m saying is, if you need someone to talk to –who will actually listen to you- then I’m here. I don’t just worry for Goten, Mr. Son. I worry for you as well.”

Goku couldn’t stop the stupid smile that spread across his face. He was happy at her offer and nodded, taking it immediately. “Th-thank you… I would like that very much!” He couldn’t stop himself from hugging her, just so so happy to have someone like her now. God, how he had wanted someone to talk to. A real friend that would listen and not criticize, unlike those others who claimed to care but really didn’t. Simoko laughed and patted his back, telling him there was nothing to it. He also couldn’t stop his heart from beating wildly in his chest at the beautiful woman in his arms. He owed her everything.

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“So, mate, what the hell happened last week?” Voorhees sat with Raven on the local city bus, riding to Raven’s apartment that he shared with his alcoholic “father.” Raven sat quietly in his seat, looking out at the window and keeping to himself. Ever since the beat down at the party, he had felt this heavy weight and burden on his heart. It had taken everything to stay away from Dillon who was desperate and angry to know what happened to Goten. Even just the day before, the man was randomly at his job, demanding to know what happened to his lover…

/// ”Dammit Raven, I know you know what happened!! Don’t try to be fucking stupid!” Dillon was screaming, rain pouring down on his large body as he stood outside of the backdoor to the nice restaurant. He was desperate to find Goten, wanting to apologize and make sure he was ok. Raven didn’t want any part of it, but like it or not, he was stuck between the two.

“I swear Dillon, I don’t know where he is! Look, he ran off during the party. I tried following him but I was just as fucked up as everyone else! You can’t get angry at me because I don’t know what happened to him!” He yelled back, scared of the man, in disbelief that he found where he worked, even though he had told no one of it. ///

He was lying his ass off of course, knowing just where Goten was and how he was doing. He had been in constant contact with Goten throughout the entire ordeal. Goten didn’t want to see Dillon just yet, or maybe it was because he was too terrified to face the man. Either way, Raven kept his ground no matter what, keeping Goten’s whereabouts’ secret.

“Hey, are you listening to me?” Voorhees reached over and grabbed Raven’s hair, pulling to get his attention.

Raven looked over at the teen and sighed. “I’m sorry… I just have a lot on my mind… look, they both drank too much and Dillon couldn’t handle it very well… I promised not to say anymore… If I tell you, then the entire school will find out.” Raven rolled his eyes, picking at his jeans.

“Oh that is such bull, Raven. We aren’t even in school anymore. Our last day before summer break was yesterday!” Voorhees pushed him, hating that Raven wouldn’t tell him what had happened. “I’ve known those two longer than you. I can’t believe that Goten won’t confide in me! What do you have that I don’t?”

“Fort Knox lips, that’s what.” Raven pushed him back, jerking forward as the bus stopped at his stop. He stood and grabbed his bag, shoving Voorhees out of the seat to walk down the small aisle. He hated that the teen had insisted on coming to his house for a few hours, mostly because he hated bringing anyone back to his ratty apartment. ‘As a matter of fact, he’s been asking to stay with me all week long,’ Raven thought and found that interesting.

They both stepped out onto the slummy streets of the west side, Voorhees scrunching his nose at the smell and sights. “I told you I lived in the slums and Projects.” Raven said over his shoulder, knowing Voorhees would be turned off by it all instantly.

“Yeah but I thought you were just shittin’ me….” Voorhees hurried and walked next to Raven, looping arms with him, not liking the people that watched them. “Please tell me you live in one of these buildings close by.”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Voorhees. Geez. It’s not that bad when you’ve lived here for almost 10 years.” Raven led the way to his apartment complex, Voorhees attached to his hip like a dog, getting into his building within 10 minutes. They both walked into the place and up the stairs to the main living area, the whole place smelling like cigarettes from his father. “Home sweet home, huh?” Raven looked around the place, seeing a large bottle of Jack –empty- next to an ashtray. Thank God his father was gone to work.

“Well, I’d offer you some food, but you’ll have to find some first. My dad and I don’t eat much, so we don’t keep much. If anything, I can just order pizza.” Raven stretched and put his things down next to the black leather couch, falling back onto it with a sigh. “And I’ll apologize ahead of time. I’m a terrible host.”

Voorhees looked around the place, never really seeing anything like it. All his life, he had been exposed to the finer things; lots of money, big houses, yachts, country clubs and fancy cars. Those lower on the economical food chain were simple “commoners” to him and his family, and he had overlooked them for a long time. He had never been in the poor areas, let alone stay in them for hours on end. It was silly how he was crazy about the blue-eyed teenager on the torn leather couch considering how he was raised rich. It still surprised him.

He walked over and sat next to Raven, looking out at the torn vertical blinds on the sliding glass doors with the teen, the gray light coming in from all the rain and dark clouds they had had recently. “It’s better than nothing…. Right..?” Lately, Voorhees had come to appreciate the smaller things due to his own personal reasons. No more stepping on those less fortunate than you, especially when you had nothing now.

Raven looked over at Voorhees, looking at his soft profile, his skin discolored from the gray light coming in. “Yeah…. Well, being homeless isn’t too terribly bad…” Raven looked back at the same torn blinds. He sensed Voorhees looking at him, his eyes asking the question that hung in the air silently. Raven smiled to himself. “My dad’s alcohol habits had us out on the streets for about 7 months when I was 10. We lived under a bridge for a while with a group of homeless people just like us. Then we’d move to a shelter. Then we’d be back on the streets. My father refused to stay in the shelters because of how strict they were, considering they were ran by the catholic churches on the East side. It was… really interesting.. He was real annoyed at having me there and having to take care of me. I went hungry a lot, but luckily I’ve never been one to eat much.” Raven shrugged.

“S-So… how did you get back in a home?”

“Ohh…. My aunt found out what all had happened and was enraged that my dad was living on the streets with a 10 year old. She put us up for about 3 months and got him a job working construction and hard labor in the city. He finally got his feet on the ground, made money and got us this place. We’ve been here ever since.” Raven sighed and leaned back onto the couch, looking at the ceiling now. He had such a sad existence when he thought about it. “Not that a job keeps my dad from drinking his life away. I’m waiting on the day that we’ll be thrown out again.” Voorhees leaned back as well, slowly moving his head to rest it on his shoulder. The move was nice, and touching. Raven sighed again and opened up some more, liking to have someone to talk to, even if it was Jason “Voorhees” Kemp, the spoiled rich Aussie.

“My father hates me, Voorhees… and it’s not like that stupid teenage angst thing that we all think. He literally does. He’s told me plenty of times for me to believe it… I’m not what he wanted. I could never be what he wanted… He just… he wishes he could have just thrown me out in the trash and start all over on another ‘son’ who did as he wanted. He’s never given a damned about my life. All he does is work, drink, smoke and sleep. I wonder what things would have been like had his sister not kicked his ass every time she saw us. He’d be happy if I were dead and gone…” Raven felt Voorhees’s hand on his leg and he grabbed it, wanting the comfort.

“I know the feelin, mate… I’m not very close to me ‘rents. Especially me dad. I don’t even call him dad. It’s always ‘Sir.’ I’m not close to me mum either. The only one I love in my family is me Nanny Abigail. She’s the one I’d call me mum… but…. That’s awful about your dad. To have no one love you like a parent should.. I’m sorry mate…” Voorhees stroked Raven’s leg and turned into his body, resting his head against the hybrid’s chest.

“Well aren’t we a pair…?” Raven chuckled and inhaled Voorhees’s sweet scent, loving how he smelled compared to the cigarette smoke of his apartment.

His thoughts drifted back to the party, like it had been doing for a week now, reliving the drama that unfolded. How scary it all was. How just… just… awful it was. ‘But….’ Raven looked down at Voorhees, reaching out and stroking his curly locks. ‘At least something good almost happened….’ Voorhees pulled away from Raven’s chest to look up into those unique blue eyes.

Hearts thudded and adrenaline rushed. Lips pressed together and tongues touched. There was no going back at this point.

The hybrid android pushed the Aussie down onto the leather couch, tossing aside unwanted clothes, moaning as skin rubbed together. Voorhees clung to Raven as the blue-eyed teen touched him and kissed him all over. He was left breathless at the android’s assault on his gold-kissed skin, saying his name and wrapping his limbs around the teen. The soft moans turned into a few cries of passion as Raven started to move inside of Voorhees, the Aussie’s nails tearing down Raven’s back as pleasure overtook his body.

Raven was a different kind of lover than Mr. Gohan; he was swift and fluid, keeping at a steady –but fast- pace, worshipping the body under him with kisses and moans of delight, making sure Voorhees got as much pleasure possible. He wasn’t rough and hard, like Mr. Gohan. He didn’t bite and he didn’t smack him around fierce enough to leave welts on his ass and hips. Raven was passionate and giving, a different person than the hybrid who sat with him at lunch. Raven didn’t fuck; he “made love.” And it brought tears to Voorhees’s eyes as he climaxed all over them.

Raven’s POV

An hour went by and we found ourselves in my bedroom, eating a pizza that I ordered after our romp. Voorhees was quite, smoking a bit of his tasty Australian weed, which was a change from his usual annoying self. We lay next to each other on our stomachs, naked, eating and smoking in silence. Something was up; I could sense it in the tension-thick air. What was wrong with him? I looked over at him, taking in his curves and muscles. I ignored the fact that evidence from his romps with Goten’s brother were all over him; bites and welts, scratches and bruises. Shaking my head, I let my robot eyes lock on Voorhees’s ass, blushing and clearing my throat. He was a gorgeous guy with the body of an athlete for sure. More built that I was, yet not as strong. I think the only one that can compare to me in strength would be Goten. God, I wonder how he’s doing…

“Ray…. Can I tell you somethin…?” Voorhees’s voice caught me off guard and I looked back up at him, to see him laying his head down in his arms, having pushed the pizza away.

“Yeah… what’s up..?”

He was quite and I could tell he was struggling with telling me what was on his mind. Voorhees never really opened up, just like me, so I was very curious to what he was about to tell me. The boy had a perfect life. The hell did he have cooped up in his closet of skeletons? Furthermore, why do people always feel the need to open up to me? Do I scream “psychiatrist” or something?

“Me ‘rents… they kicked me out….”

I couldn’t stop my jaw from hanging open in shock. “W… what?”

Voorhees looked ahead, looking out of my window outside at the smoggy, rainy evening, taking a drag on the pot. “Yeah…” he breathed, blowing out the smoke. He was quiet again and I saw the strain in his eyes, how he was trying to stay strong. I scooted over so that we were arm to arm, taking the pot and having a sip, putting my leg over his. I didn’t pester him into telling me what happened. He was just like me in a sense that when he was damn good and ready to open up, he’d do it.

Patience is a virtue.

-------
Goten’s POV

So this was it.

I was finally facing him, after almost 3 weeks now. I had done well in keeping myself hidden and scarce, never staying in the same place twice. ‘Take deep breaths, Goten. If he tries to hurt you, tear his eyes out…’ That last part didn’t make me feel too well.

I sat in his living room in the large Italian mansion that I had come to know as my true home. Next to me was the Rottweiler puppy that I had gotten, sitting at my feet obediently. Tanya had offered me some food, but I refused it politely, my stomach too jumbled to even get food down. I could hear Dillon slam his door and hurry across the hall when one of the house keeper’s told him I was here. My heart raced, watching him come down the stairs, looking quite the emotional mess.

“Ohh Bella, gratzi Dio!” He took me into his arms and held me close. My stomach was in my throat and my heart skipped a beat. God I was so happy to be in those arms again. He smelled so damned good.

‘Oh that body… How I’ve missed it…’

His lips were on mine, keeping me close to his body, kissing me over and over again, apologizing with each time he pulled away. It was sickening how easily I could succumb to his touches and kisses, finding myself in his arms and in his room suddenly, completely worked up beyond a point of return. He wouldn’t let me talk, nor get back to reason as he ravaged me, making up for lost time, completely blowing my mind with spine tingling sex for hours. I could hardly speak by the end of it all.

I was left breathless and unable to move my sore body, just watching Dillon run his fingers up and down my stomach, singing to me in Italian. I let tears fall down my cheeks, feeling trapped and helpless and weak. How could Dillon do that to me? How could he think to harm me? How will it ever be the same?

Better yet… why didn’t I want to walk away?

-------
“My brother, Giuseppe, raped me when I was 6 years old.”

Dillon was turned towards me, his golden-green eyes full of deep emotion, looking in my direction, but not at me. He was far off in his own world, whispering more to himself than to me as he spoke about his dark childhood. I was… shocked at his confession. A man like him; raped. And by his eldest brother! My heart broke for him.

“Shit had really gone down between my father and a powerful rival family, the Perillo’s,” he started. “He was supposed to meet with Stephano Perillo to work out some form of agreement between both families, and brought my brother along. At the time, I was 6 and desperate to please my father and follow in his footsteps. It was Giuseppe’s first time tagging along to show to father he was worthy of stepping up and getting his foot in the door to be the heir in Italy of our business.

“Long story short, it didn’t go down like originally planned. I had followed them, wanting to learn more about our business and what it took to be what my father was. When I snuck around the corner to a warehouse that they had met in, Stephano Perillo had shot my brother in the leg and was beating the hell out of my father with his revolver. I ran in and tackled the man to the ground, grabbing his gun and pointing it at him. I was terrified and shaking with adrenaline, standing between my father and the dirtiest crime boss around at the time. All he did was look at me and laugh while I shook, finding it hilarious that a little kid such as myself would be doing what I did. He kneeled down and smirked at me, calling me a pussy ass little child, daring me to shoot him. I just stood there, staring at him, crying and scared while he pointed and laughed at me.

“He said ‘C’mon. Try it. I dare you. Can the little faggot kid take out the big bad mobster?’ And he laughed and laughed, making me feel like shit, mocking me in front of my father and my brother. So… I just… pulled the trigger. And I kept doing it. I shot him again and again and again and…. He was already dead on the floor but I just kept filling his body with bullets until the gun was empty. My father had to pull the gun from my hand and pick me up, getting me out of there with my brother. After that, I was the talk of the family; a son completely worthy to be part of the family business already. My brother, he was pissed…

“He got tired of my father obsessing over me. How was I, a 6 year old scabby knee boy, better than him? Why wouldn’t my father give him another chance? He had had enough and came into my room one night. He woke me up saying that if I really wanted to prove myself, I had to keep my cool in rough, terrible situations. So, he held me down by my neck and raped me…”

I looked into those beautiful eyes, watching the emotions collide with one another, conflicted with how to feel about it all still. “How long… did this go on for..? Did you tell anyone..?”

He shook his head. “It went on for several months before he was back in my father’s limelight. After that, he didn’t really give me a second glance. I haven’t talked to him since we moved here.”

It was completely baffling hearing about this part of my lover’s past. I’m not even sure why he decided to tell me about it, but I was touched, and completely in mourning for his destroyed childhood. I knew Dillon had grown up in a bad situation, part of Organized Crime the moment he was conceived in his mother’s belly. It was all he ever knew and it was something that he loved to be known for. It fit his sociopathic personality greatly, even if it came at the cost of not being a normal kid. I knew he was physically abused most of his life from his alcoholic father, I knew that the mental abuse from seeing death and killing for the first time at the age of 6 granted him with a less than perfect mental health, I knew that emotionally, he was still very scarred from all that had happened to him. But sexual abuse –rape- was the last thing I would have guessed that my Dillon had suffered through. God, it was no wonder Dillon never talked about his brother. What a burden, to carry such horrid knowledge his entire life and not tell a soul. Maybe that was why he told me about it… to find some sense of closure so he could finally move on?

I couldn’t even understand why he was interested in men as much as he was, now that I knew he had been raped by a man. If I had been raped by my brother, I know that I would have stayed as far away from men in any sense of a relationship for the rest of my life. I asked Dillon about it, and I believe that was the hardest thing for him to tell me about. There was no going back now.

“I’m a sick person, Goten…” He would whisper against my chest as I held him, stroking his hair.

He then went on to tell me how after a while when his brother was raping him, he started enjoying it. He had orgasms –be it that they were pre-mature- and loved how it made his body feel. When that happened, he no longer fought his brother off and cried. Instead, he welcomed the “rapes” with open arms and would take pleasure in everything that Giuseppe did. He thinks that was the reason why Giuseppe stopped raping him all together; because his little brother fucking loved it.

“I went on to be a pervert as a child. Making little boys pull down their pants and looking under the skirts of little girls was something I totally thrilled in as a 6 year old boy. As I got older, so did my cravings for sex and power. I wanted to steal back what my brother had taken from me, but in the same time I wanted to find that bliss again. When I was 10, I raped a boy my age that was in my elementary class in private school. When I was 13, I seduced an older girl behind our school building and had my first heterosexual experience. By the time I was 15, I had sexual relationships left and right with anyone willing to come hither at my beck and call. At 16, just when I was at my peak of sexual prowess, I happened to run into a scared Goth boy that stole my heart away at first glance…”

It all made sense then. Why he was so skilled in the bedroom. Why he was able to pull an orgasm from me with just a few kisses and a single touch. Why, with just a look, he could have me moaning in my seat, my body begging to have him come to me. Why I would never be allowed to fuck him. Why he had a kinky mind. All my questions about the sexual side of Dillon had been answered in his dark confession. I was in love with a rapist and a murderer. It seemed almost… bittersweet for a psychopathic schizophrenic such as me, right?

He was a little over 18 now, and he felt that he had a clean slate now that he was legally responsible for all his actions. “No one found out about all that I did. No one but you, now.” He held me close, stroking my skin. “I was from a very powerful and rich family. Any bad things that may have come about would easily be erased with money to the families. I was free to do whatever I wanted… no child should have that power.” He positioned himself on top of me, resting his chin on my chest, looking up into my eyes.

“There. Now you know about my darkest secrets. You know mine, and I know yours. Isn’t it wonderful, Bella? We were made for each other…” He whispered with a true genuine smile on that handsome face.

It was very much true. I couldn’t hate him for what he did, nor did I have any desire to hold anything against him. “I forgive you…” I purred softly, meaning not just for his evil acts as a child, but for what he had done to me. I had to forgive him.

What else could I do?

-------
June 14

I think I should start by letting those out there know that this is not Goten, but Raven, writing this journal entry. I’ve never really done this before so bare with me… Goten, he is unable to write much anymore. His words and phrases are constantly jumbled, scattered, and confusing. He came to me at my apartment and asked me to write down a legible entry in his journal so that he could come back to it and know what had happened earlier was real. That, and Goten is too distraught and lost from reality to even hold a pen. So, I guess I should start.

A package came in the mail for him today, all the way from Venezuela. Inside, buried in all of those foam peanuts, were pictures, 4 extra large spiral-bound notebooks filled with writing and notes, a video DVD, a small handmade cloth bear with button eyes, a military dog tag necklace, a sketchbook, a smaller journal with poetry inside, and a worn photo of Goten and his father when he was just a 7 year old boy. The remaining 200 some odd pictures were all of an attractive and feminine-looking Latino teenaged guy as the star. Big green eyes, wild and chopped up black hair with blonde mixed throughout and a gorgeous, but sad, smile. There were many photos of the teen with tubes in his nose, an IV in his arm, a shaved head, and an oxygen mask over his mouth. In others, he was laughing, or sobbing his eyes out, or surrounded by his family, or lying naked in a bed. Some photos made me blush, others made me a little horny, but the majority made me sad.

I asked Goten who the kid was, and he sputtered out the name, “Zoomie.”

He ran his fingers over all of the photos, looking at each one with intensity and deep, troubled emotions. He told me that the kid was someone he knew in middle school; his first lover. He said that because he made me responsible for this journal entry, I needed to know everything. And so, he told me the whole story of Hayden “Zoomie” Marlo. Zoomie, a kid that was in love with Goten from afar, diagnosed with Polycythemia Vera; a rare blood cancer.

With Goten, we looked at all of the items in the large box. There was a note attached to the handmade bear to its back. On it, written in Spanish, was an explanation for everything from Zoomie’s mother: “Goten, it has taken us almost a year to get this to you. It was a long and difficult process in finding your address and mailing this package to you. Please handle with care, for these items are a precious gem to our family, and hopefully to you. You are always thought of. Love, Chilo Marlo & Family.”

Goten started to cry.

He held the bear close to him, learning that Zoomie had made it for him himself. I put the dog tag necklace around his neck, reading it to see Zoomie’s full name inscribed in them. Together, Goten and I flipped through the sketchbook to see all kinds of drawings that Zoomie had done while in and out of hospitals; some morbid and depressing, others jaw dropping, and only a few happy-looking. There were many sketches of Goten that the teen had done as well. The notebooks had been numbered so that we could follow them in order. They were Zoomie’s personal journal entries that had spanned over the 3 years since they had seen each other last. The first one started with Zoomie saying that he wanted to write everything to Goten so that in the future, he hoped that his only love would someday read it.

I promised Goten that we would read them when we had time. He agreed and leaned against me like a lost and scared child as we continued to go through the contents of the package. The little black book of poetry was all Zoomie’s poems as well about inspiration, fear, hate, rage, cancer, love, sex, family, the color black, death, heaven, God, hell, illness, and Goten himself. There would have to be another time for when we could read all of the poems.

And then there was the video DVD. I popped it into my DVD player and sat with Goten, watching what it was. It didn’t take long for both of us to realize that it was a video blog of Zoomie, just wanting to talk to Goten and tell him how things were going, and how much he loved him still, and how much he missed him. I skipped forward and stopped at a very personal and x-rated video made especially for Goten, Zoomie wanting to show his Saiyan lover just how much he was still crazy for him. I turned it off before it got too much further.
The last and final thing in the bottom of the large package was a tall photo frame wrapped in bubble wrap. Once taking that off, Goten and I both looked to see a stunningly beautiful head shot of Zoomie smiling to the camera with that incredible smile. My eyes scanned all over the photo, taking in his attractive features when Goten suddenly started screaming.

“NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!!!!” He screamed, starting to cry and snarl furiously and pull at his hair. He collapsed, sobbing in his hands and shaking all over. I felt panicked and looked at the photo, knowing something had caused it to make Goten breakdown. And there it was, written on a small plaque under the headshot.

Zoomie’s blood cancer had finally taken him away the year before in a Venezuelan hospital.

He was dead.

--Raven Gero [compilation with Son Goten]

-------
Goku’s POV

Ever since Goten had gotten that package in the mail, he hasn’t been the same since. He won’t eat. He won’t drink. He doesn’t talk. All he does is sit alone in his room, curled up on his bed and stares out at his curtains. Even Dillon isn’t able to get him to leave his room, which definitely sent up red flags. I called Dr. Simoko for an emergency house call, seeing if maybe she could figure out what was wrong. I sat in the kitchen sipping on some herbal tea alone while Dr. Simoko had a session with my son in his bedroom. This is just what I didn’t need. I had a terrible night with Vegeta and a whole week of constant police and investigators at my door about Chichi’s disappearance. My schizophrenic son starving himself to death doesn’t really help either.

I perked up, hearing Dr. Simoko walk into the kitchen clearing her throat. She didn’t look too confident, and I knew something was wrong. “Do you uh…. Would you like some tea..?” I offered, starting to stand up.

“Ohh no no, that’s alright Goku. I’ll be fine.” She gave me a warm, apathetic smile and sat down on the other end of the table. I nodded and sat down, fidgeting with my hands and tapping my fingers on my cup.

“S-so…. What’s wrong with him?” I kept my eyes down, looking into the tea that was steaming, ready for the worst.

She gave an audible sigh and I looked up to watch her lean back in the kitchen chair. My heart pulled a little, unable to deny the attraction that I had to the woman, it being the reason why Vegeta and I had a terrible spat the night before. He knew I was looking at her. He knew I was attracted to her. And he definitely didn’t like it. “He’s experiencing the negative symptoms of his Schizophrenia. Negative symptoms include problems with motivation, social withdrawal, diminished affective responsiveness, speech, and movement. He’s showing the apathy, lack of emotion, poor or nonexistent social functioning because he has most likely gone through something traumatic, which caused the sudden switch in symptoms.” She looked right at me, as if I was supposed to know what the traumatic thing was.

“W-well…. Umm…… he did get a package in the mail and since then he changed…” I stood, ready to go find the box but she took my wrist, having me sit back down.

“I know, Goku. Zoomie died.”

I stared at her, definitely shocked. I had remembered very few things about the kid and that he had had cancer, but I did have memories of Goten and him in a short relationship. “I wasn’t aware… S-so… that’s why he’s… withdrawn..?”

She nodded, her hand still on my wrist. The simple comforting affection was so nice and I craved more of it, taking her hand in mine. She blushed, slightly confused but looked back at me, smiling softly. And there it was; a connection. It was intense and new, and it took my breath away. Maybe it was because I was desperate for attention and love, maybe it was because I hadn’t truly been touched and smiled at for many years, or maybe it was because I was in an emotionally and physically abusive relationship… but I knew then and there that I wanted her.

“The hell is going on?” I nearly jumped out of my seat hearing Vegeta bark at the kitchen door. He was standing in just his training shorts with a towel around his neck, sweating from a workout, a dark scowl on his face. I instantly took my hand away from Simoko, smiling at him nervously.

“Nothing, Vegeta. She was just telling me what was wrong with Goten.” I rubbed the back of my neck in nervous habit, just like my sons, still trying to smile.

“By holding your hand?” He growled.

Simoko got up from her chair, not fazed by his apparent anger. “I was comforting Mr. Son. Goten is not doing well and Goku needs all the support he can get. He doesn’t seem to be getting any from you, so I took it upon myself to show my sympathy by simple physical touch.” She stood her ground as Vegeta walked into the kitchen and over to the fridge, each of them giving challenging stares to one another.

“If you have figured out what is wrong with the boy, then I do believe that your time here is done, woman.” He spat at her and I blushed in embarrassment and shame, lowering my head.

Simoko slipped something into my hand while Vegeta had his back turned and gathered her leather briefcase satchel, slinging it over her shoulder. “I left a small dosage of Zoloft in Goten’s bathroom to help with his depression, Mr. Son. Please give that to him with some food in the morning and have him come in first thing at noon. By then I will have a full prescription for him.” She then turned and walked out of the kitchen and then the front door. I looked up to watch her pull away in her convertible Mercedes, hiding the thing she had hidden in my hand from Vegeta.

I went to take a sip of my tea but was cut short when I felt a strong hand push the back of my head roughly, making me slam my nose against the table. Vegeta then grabbed my hair and yank my face back up, screaming into it, daring me to as much as look at Dr. Simoko again. How dare I do such a thing? Was he not good enough for me? Did I not realize that no one would want to have me but him? How could I not see that I was incapable of having someone love me? Especially a woman? My past should prove that enough, so why bother? I just sat there and listened to him scream and let him smack the back of my head and spit in my face. It’s not as if this just happened over night; the old me wouldn’t have allowed such abuse from anyone. It has taken 3 years to get me dependent on him, afraid to leave, believing he was right about everything, so blind to the reality because of the love I had for him. I was a pathetic excuse for a man and a Saiyan.

When he finally left, leaving me shaken and a little bruised, I let out a ragged sigh. It was just another stab to my already mutilated heart. I looked down at my fist, opening it to see what it was that Simoko had given me. It was a small white business card with her personal cell number on it. When I flipped it over, I closed my eyes and didn’t want to believe it had come to this:

“STOP DOMESTIC VIOLENCE!! HOTLINE FOR BATTERED AND ABUSED PARTNERS: 1-800-555-2217. PLEASE CALL.”

-----

Gohan and Voorhees rode together silently in the man’s car again. Each were quiet, listening to the rain hit the car as Gohan drove the Sedan. They had spent a more than unpleasant time with each other in a cheap hotel, being that Voorhees told Gohan he loved him. The Saiyan man rejected him instantly and threw the boy out to walk home, not wanting to deal with Voorhees’s sudden feelings for him. He figured the Australian teen had finally gone and slept with Raven, dropping Gohan from his sexual life. So why tell him that he was in love with him? He didn’t dare say he was jealous about the situation with Raven, but it sure seemed like the right word to use…

Then, he felt bad the moment it started to storm and went looking for the kid. He picked him up on the side of the highway and offered him a lift. Voorhees was hesitant, but jumped in when lightning cracked overhead. The ride seemed to take forever, Voorhees shivering in the passenger’s seat from the cold rain that soaked him to the bone.

Gohan looked over at him, letting out a silent sigh, trying his best to just relax and stop gripping the steering wheel before he broke it off. Voorhees looked pathetic as his curly hair stuck to his face and his eyeliner ran down his cheeks, while some of the gold dust he liked to have on his shoulders stained his arms in a gross brown mess. The Saiyan felt utterly sorry for him. Something didn’t seem right with his student lover. A once vibrant, happy, cocky and slutty Aussie was suddenly a depressed, uninterested, sick-looking lump on the seat. Gohan opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it as he turned into Voorhees’s rich neighborhood area famously known as The Hamptons.

He stopped in front of Voorhees’s large brick home and could sense the boy’s heart race. “If you want to wait till the rain stops, you’re more than--”

“I’ll be fine. Thanks for the ride.” Voorhees cut him off, gathering up his backpack that he still carried around even though school was out, starting for the door.

Gohan grabbed Voorhees’s arm to stop him, making the teen look at him with startled eyes. “Is everything ok…? At home, I mean…” he asked, searching the Australian’s face for an answer. His student lover looked away, grimacing, too proud to admit that things were horribly wrong at home; that he didn’t even have a home.

“What’s it to you?” Voorhees spoke quietly, jerking his hand away. He got out of the car and slammed the door, running to his house in the pouring rain.

Gohan sighed and pulled into another driveway to turn around. He had a feeling that Voorhees was simply pissed at him for not returning his feelings and that was why he was distant from him. Leaving the road that had Voorhees’s house on it, Gohan looked in the rearview mirror to see the kid slip inside the front door.

Who knew it would be the last time he saw the kid?

---

Goten’s POV

He’s trying so hard. I can see it. I can feel it; His lips on my neck and his hands on my bum. Usually, I would shiver at this point and moan, but I offer nothing to the table. Sometimes I feel like he doesn’t understand why I am like this now, sensing him start to get frustrated with my lack of interest in his attempts to get me in the mood. But he keeps at it, pulling my clothes off and ignoring the fact that I’m starving myself, the evidence clear as day with my skinnier body. Food is unappetizing and tastes like sand when I try to eat. I usually end up throwing it up anyway.

Dillon pushes me against the wall and I can feel how hard he is against my leg. He sucks on my neck and I finally feel a bit of a blush form over my nose.

Dr. Simoko had told me during the house call that withdrawing –as caused by my schizophrenia- is not only going to affect me, but others around me; my sex life would literally crumble underneath my feet along with loss of interest in eating or simple hygiene. She said if I didn’t pull myself out of my schizophrenic depression before it was too late, I would be lost forever.

When I snap out of my daze, Dillon is on his knees in front of me and trying his best to get me just as hard as him. I feel something stir in my loins as he licks my head, but we both knew it was going to take a lot of convincing to get my motor running. I blame the Zoloft.

Dr. Simoko also told me that she is very worried for my father. She didn’t want to make it seem that it was my fault for his troubles, but that she was only expressing concern for him. She hoped maybe I knew or had seen something. I only shook my head, hardly hearing anything she said to understand what was asked of me most of the time.

Finally I moan as Dillon’s fingers start brushing against my prostate, my dick springing to life finally. I looked down with hazy eyes to see him smirking at me as he moves some fingers in and out of me. I hadn’t even felt them go inside, but now I could feel everything and it was great. My Italian lover continued to finger-fuck me and bob his head back and forth on me. It scared me to know that this may very well be the last time I enjoy sex like this, so I tried my best to swim out of my medicated and depressed fog.

Dillon saw that I was finally ready to go further and stands up, lifting me to wrap my legs around him. He pulls out his throbbing cock from his pants and pushes into me, causing me to groan. He wastes no time in moving in and out of me, moaning in my ear about how hot I was. Instead of the euphoria that I normally feel with our sex, I simply feel pressure and numbness. I whine as my erection died and just stay against the wall, taking it like the bitch I was. Dillon knows just how to hit the perfect spot inside of me, but even that feels numb. He doesn’t notice me crying as he continued to fuck me against the wall, too lost in his own pleasure to stop and see if I was ok.

But I was never going to be ok. Zoomie was dead, and that was too much of a blow to my heart. My schizophrenia is too strong to fight against anymore. I’m so fucking tired of fighting the thing inside of me that wants to pull me away. With each breath, it only seems to get stronger. I just don’t see the point in trying anymore.

So I won’t.

TBC.