The following is a work of fiction. The story may contain profanity and references to gay sex. Any relation to similar events or persons, fiction or real, is completely fortuitous. If such content offends you please leave now. The author retains all rights to the story. Do not copy or use without written authority from the author. Write Bobby at with your comments.

Have you forgotten all I know, and all we had?
You saw me mourning my love for you
And touched my hand
I knew you loved me then

I believe in you
I'll give up everything just to find you
I have to be with you, to live, to breathe
You're taking over me

Taking Over Me © by Evanescence, 2003

Control. It's extraordinary the tactics people employ to obtain it. Some rely on deception while others engage in outright trickery. Then there are those who resort to extortion. Why do we fight so hard for control? Because we know to lose it is to put our fate in the hands of others. And what could be more dangerous?

© by Marc Cherry, 2005

Taking Over Me 07

Many things were difficult to ignore as Trevor lustfully thrust into me last night. The first was that our eyes never connected. Not one time. His touch was absent. The only body parts touching were our lower bodies. From this, you've probably guessed, he never kissed me, either. Probably the worst part of last night was when he finished deep inside of me, he got dressed, said thanks and walked out of the house as if nothing had happened.

As I laid in bed brooding over what had transpired, the most powerful feelings of cheapness, regret, and disgust flowed painfully through my veins. So much so that when I contemplated killing myself I didn't even flinch. I came close. I held a bottle of sleeping pills in my hand. Then I considered other options. Hanging myself seemed too macabre, and I wouldn't want to suffer before perishing. The mountains came into mind. All those tight curves and steep drops into ravines hundreds of feet below would be perfect. A burnt, mangled body would take days to identify. Tyler and them, on the other hand, would know it was me immediately—what with a missing car and a missing child. The overdose on sleeping pills seemed the easiest and least painful for everyone.

I had poured a few in my hand to start. But staring down at the blue, oval-shaped death bringers I realized killing myself wouldn't solve anything. "Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem" as so many anti-suicide advertisements have claimed. Isn't that what suicidal people want, though? A permanent solution. I think they should think of a new slogan that doesn't work in favor of us mentally disturbed.

The pills went back into the bottle, back into the cupboard with the other medicine. Coming down from a near suicide attempt, I became a little shaken up. I changed into a pair of gym shorts, laced up my running shoes and went down into the basement to use the treadmill. Seven miles later I was in my bathroom standing under a flow of cold water that seemed to not only wash my sweat away, but also wash my grief away. I dressed into some ratty clothes I use as pajamas and went to bed.

Waking a few hours later I was in a bright mood. Tyler was happy to see my pleasant demeanor and made sure to let me know. I drank some fresh juice and ate a couple of pieces of whole grain toast. Everyone had to leave well before I did, giving me plenty of free time to sit on the couch in my boxers and watch TV. Around an hour later here I am sitting in a stadium-styled classroom with Claire waiting for oceanography to start. The bastard—meaning Trevor from here on out—has yet to arrive, and when he does I'm going to show no interest.

"Why are you so cheerful?" Claire asked out of random. She was doodling on a piece of paper while we waited.

It's true. Since I've woken up this morning I've just been so damn cheery; it hasn't lessened whatsoever. Perhaps it's the notion that I'm finally free from Trevor both physically and emotionally.

"I just had a very awesome morning." I smiled broadly.

"What was so awesome about it?"

"It was just awesome." I said. What was I supposed to say? I tried killing myself last night after my ex finished using me? No, cannot tell her any of that. I'm embarrassed and ashamed by both actions, but that's behind me now. I'm in a better place because of them.

The professor walked in with Trevor right behind him. They were clearly talking about something, but it was hard to hear casual conversation from up in the top rows of the lecture hall. The door opened again and in came Olivia. She didn't even have to look up to know where Claire and I were sitting.

"Hey, guys!" Olivia said happily as always. Her eternal glee is her best trait. It seems like nothing in this world can bring that girl down. She sat on Claire's left.

"Traffic coming up here was horrible. Why does it seem like construction never stops along Brush Canyon?"

"You're telling me." Claire sighed. "Remember last semester when they were redoing two of the parking lots? Why do that during the busiest semester? Like, honestly." Everyone remembers that. I quickly learned I had to arrive at school close to half an hour early just to find a regular spot. Any later and I would've been forced to park super far from campus. I'm not lazy by any means, but the street is on a steep hill that is a total bitch to trek up.

Trevor sat in the fifth or sixth row looking semi-upset to be here. The professor began his lecture and I quickly forgot all about the bastard who's sitting several rows in front of me. The topic of today's lecture was actually pretty boring, though. Who needs to know the history of oceanography? Teach me some freakin' marine life. According to the syllabus, the fun stuff won't be focused on until about March, which really sucks.

Class ended. Claire, Olivia, and I went to our usual spot and hung out until we needed to go to our separate classes.

"Why did we take oceanography?" Claire asked, taking out her cell phone.

"Um, you wanted to." I reminded her. True, taking the class was her idea and she didn't want to do it alone so cue in her best friends.

"I didn't think it would be so boring."

Olivia interjected. "It's only the beginning of the class. I'm sure it'll be far more exciting in the coming weeks."

"I don't mind too much. I mean, I love the naps I get."

I rolled my eyes, snickering. I caught Trevor across the way. He looked happier than earlier for some reason. Perhaps it was a disagreement with the professor. I turned my attention back to the girls.

"The sun feels so good. I want it to be summer already!" Claire dramatically cried. "This cold shit is working my last nerve."

"I find the cold invigorating."

"You would, Travers. But some of us aren't built to survive the cold Alaskan winters."

I busted up laughing as did Olivia. "Okay, two things wrong with what you said. The first is we don't live in Alaska. The second, of course, is that I am definitely not built for the cold. I only weigh one hundred and thirty-eight pounds!"

"Yeah, but you've got some muscle ergo you're built better than I am."

"Wait, Travers, you used to weigh one fourty-four." Olivia pointed out.

"The break up made me lose a few pounds."

"That's not healthy. You need to get your weight back up."

"I'm well aware of that. I need to tone up, too."

"You should come with me to the gym some time. I can take a guest whenever I want."

I had totally forgotten about that. I used to go with her when I didn't feel like working out at home. The only equipment we have is a treadmill anyways, but various other activities would keep me basically toned. I'm not looking to be buff. I never was, just toned.

"Yeah, I'd be down for some gym time."

"Sorry, guys, but I have to go to class. I am too cold out here." Claire grabbed her purse and scurried off.

"Later!" Olivia and I shouted to her.

"Total wimp," I chuckled.

"It can't be less than sixty-five out here, plus the sun is out."

A moment of silence passed between us, an awkward moment of silence. I wasn't sure of what to say. We're best friends, but right now I just can't think of anything.

"So, how are you doing? You look a lot better, even if you have lost a bit of weight."

"I'm doing great. I think I'm finally starting to move past him. I can look at him and not feel murderous now." She laughed. "How're you?"

"Nothing to complain about, not even school."

This is yet another reason why I love Olivia so much. She's such a positive person. I try to be positive ninety-seven percent of the time, but we all know there're those times when negativity simply cannot be restrained. Not Olivia, though. I've never seen her angry or upset.

"How's little Zachary?"

Zachary is her five year old brother. Any time his parents need a babysitter and Olivia is busy, they come right to me. They're such nice people I do it for free, but having said they're nice people they never actually let me. Many a times have they made Zachary drop forty dollars in the house when picking him up before racing off in their vehicle.

"He's been asking when he gets to see you again."

"What can I say? Little kids love me."

"Everyone loves you, Travers. I don't think I've ever heard anything bad about you. Ever."

That made me smile. "I'm sure some people don't like me."

"Well, I've yet to witness that." Olivia's cell phone beeped. "Oh, new text. Let's see . . . Lizzie wants me to tell you to get your ass to class."

"Why would she text you to tell me that?" I whipped my phone out. I do have a missed text from Lizzie. I guess I was too enthralled in Olivia's and my conversation to notice the vibration. "It is time. I'll see you later, huh?"

"For sure. Bye, Travers."

I'm tremendously anxious to find out how much work I've missed in English. The professor is all about assigning critical reading work. She's a tough nut to crack. The second week of class—we're only in our fourth—she assigned a three page essay that needed to explain the underlying theme of Mrs. Dalloway. I've always considered myself a solid B student in English, but I received a C- on the paper. Few others fared better.

Lizzie was sitting in her normal seat with one saved next to her. I sat down and set my backpack on the floor.

"Nice to see you!" Lizzie said jubilantly. "Dude, okay, first thing's first, are you ready?"

"Oh, God, please don't tell me we have a test today!" Should there be a test I am totally not prepared. I cannot receive an F!

"For the party on Saturday."

"Oh," I sighed, clearly relieved. "Yeah, I'm counting down the minutes. Only the second day back and I just want to crawl back into bed."

"We're gonna—Oh, wait. You don't drink . . . That's right. Well, there will be plenty else to do there."

"Actually, I'm thinking about drinking a little bit, or more, depending on how it goes."

"Sweet! Then hell yes it is going to be a blast!"

Moments later, the professor came in, head held high and mighty. She's not only a homework junkie, but also a stuck up old hag. It goes without saying that she believes she's the world's greatest professor. I'd be down to think like that as well, but truth be told her teaching methods aren't effective. In fact, there really aren't any teaching methods ever put into play. She assigns homework and expects us to read and learn on our own, like we're already supposed to know everything. So, what do we discuss over an hour and a half of class time? Well, though her methods aren't effective, she does go through certain lessons. But still, if we're unclear on something it's best to rummage in the textbook in place of asking her for clarification. Lizzie and I could've, and should've, dropped the class and added a different one, but it's a lot of work. I only hope we make a good grade in this class.

It was easy to notice that Trevor isn't here, not that it matters much to me. I wonder where he ran off to? I remember seeing him walking with a grin on his face. I didn't think he was happy about coming to English, so what else could it be? It wasn't because he saw me, nor was it because I gave him incredibly satisfying—for him—sex last night that almost caused my demise.

Oh, my God.

What if he was smiling because he was going to meet someone? Could I handle seeing him with someone else already? Of course not! This morning I only just let him go emotionally. But what am I saying. It's much too early after the breakup to be dating already. The other person would only be a rebound.

Am I ready to date? As Tyler once put it, "The best way to get over someone is to get on top of someone else." Okay, so that's not exactly what he said, but it's what everyone else says. Clearly, by my obsession to brainstorm where Trevor could possibly be right now, I'm not ready to date. It would be nice, however, to party for a little while. I haven't been single or dated in years. I'm not even sure how to. Regardless, I'm not ready. That's all there is to it.


Monica sat Parker on the couch and gave him a quick parental lecture on how to behave and what will happen if he misbehaves. Honestly, though, I've never had any behavioral problems with him. The only thing he does is watch cartoons and color, and maybe even eat before he passes out.

"Now, remember Parker. If you're good tonight, then we'll go out for ice cream tomorrow, okay, sweetheart?" Monica softly spoke, hugging her son.

"You got it, mommy." Parker replied in his delicate, childish tone.

Austin came in from the kitchen looking more than ready to get out of here. "Honey, happy hour stops in fifty minutes. I'd rather not spend a fortune on drinks tonight."

"Sometimes, Austin," she sighed in annoyance.

"Don't worry about us, guys. Parker and I are going to have a great time tonight." I stood next to him on the couch. "Ain't that right, kiddo?" I ruffled his hair playfully. Parker loves his hair rubbed. It's always a surefire way to sedate him, too.

Monica grabbed her purse and blew a kiss to her son. I walked them to the door and waved goodbye. Parker already had cartoons playing on the TV. The little guy is so adorable. From Austin, he gained the bright blonde hair and emerald eyes, but from Monica, he took her nose and chin. The best of both worlds, as Jared once put it.

"Want anything to eat, bud?" I asked, sitting next to him.

He looked at me with those big eyes of his. "No, thanks, Travers. Can I color?"


While he got busy coloring outside of the lines in his coloring book, I took the opportunity to run upstairs and check on Keegan and Torry. The two of them were going at it hardcore on some shooter game.

"Fuck you, Torry! That was such bullshit! That idiot from Idaho shouldn't have fucking shot there. If he wouldn't have done that I would've beaten your score!"

"Hey!" I angrily interceded. They both turned around. "Watch your mouth, Keegan! Parker's just downstairs."

"Whatever," he grumbled, turning his attention back towards the game.

"I came up here to ask if you guys wanted anything to eat. Jared left us some money to order pizza." I glared at the back of Keegan's head.

"That sounds bomb right now." Torry grinned.

Keegan didn't say anything. I took his silence as confirmation.

"Okay, well it'll be here in a bit. Keep it down, guys." I turned and went back downstairs.

Parker, still coloring in his activity book, paid little attention to me as I ordered the food for the four of us. He'll be hungry when he smells it. Once ordered, I decided to finish the few dishes in the sink. As I scrubbed the filth from the utensils, I wondered if the party tomorrow would be such a good idea. Last weekend I let myself drink a few bottles of wine coolers, but that was in a controlled setting. The party probably won't be a controlled setting. There will be plenty of other people drinking. I just don't want to slip back into old habits. Of course, since I recognize the risks I don't think I'm in much danger of succumbing to life altering temptations. And since I've moved on from Trevor my depression has all but disappeared. So I'm probably worrying about nothing. Tomorrow night is all about having fun and letting myself get a little crazy. I deserve it, anyhow.

"Travers," Parker came padding into the kitchen, "can I have some juice, please?"

"Yeah, little dude. Let me get your favorite cup." Whenever he's over he must drink from his special Star Wars cup. Tyler bought it for him for Christmas a year ago. If he's served a drink in this house and it isn't in that cup he won't drink it. The cup is pretty cool, I have to admit. Darth Vader is on it, and he warns not to underestimate the power of the Dark Side. I've always been a fan of his work myself. Favorite character and villain ever!

"Thanks," So polite.

I opened the refrigerator door. "What do you feel like? We have apple, orange, grape-cranberry, and a tropical blend."

"Just apple,"

"A cup of apple juice coming up." I grabbed the bottle and poured some into the cup, filling it up more with water to dilute the strength. Putting the bottle back into the fridge, I heard the unmistakable clank! of a mess on the floor. I looked down at the ground and a puddle of apple juice sat at Parker's feet. He stared at me, awaiting punishment.

"I'm s-so sorry!" he whined cutely.

"No worries, Parker. Accidents happen." I took the bottle back out and poured him some more. "There you go. I'll get this mess cleaned up. You go color some more."

I went into the utility room and grabbed the mop. I figured I'd just clean the entire floor. After I finished, I went back to the living room to watch over Parker. Several minutes later the doorbell chimed. The pizza guy was a total stud and I made darn sure to check out his butt as he walked away with a fifteen dollar tip. I'm pretty sure he knew I was checking him out.

Keegan and Torry came barreling down the stairway still arguing over their dumb game they were playing. They served themselves up a few slices while I set Parker's stuff up in the dining room. He came to the table without a fuss. I think he might've been feeling guilty or shamed from the spilt juice still. I was about to say something when the one of the two barnacle brothers interrupted.

"Can we eat upstairs?" Keegan asked, his mouth full of half-chewed pizza.

I grimaced. "God, Keegan, it's like the etiquette of not talking with your mouth full of food never existed with you or something." The only response from him was a smug grin. "I don't care, but ye be warned if food stains thy carpet." I imitated a gruff pirate, which made Parker grin—success!

"You are so weird,"

"Argh, who be the weird one, mate? The man who listens to the weird one or the weird one who speaks the truth?"

Keegan didn't say anything. He stared at me, confused, thoughtless. "Whatever. We'll be careful."

When they were away, Parker said, "I thought your pirate voice was cool, Travers!" A child's enthusiasm is one of the most precious things on the face of the Earth. I love this little guy.

"Thanks, matey," I chuckled, knowing full well that my imitation could use some fine tuning. "Now eat up. I'll make us milkshakes afterwards."

"Awesome!" he chirped. "Can you make 'nana milkshakes?"

"Sure, sure,"

The two of us, alone, in silence except for the low sounds coming from the cartoons, ate our way through two slices of pizza each. I felt hardly any guilt seeing that on my half of the circle of goodness was bell pepper, olives, and mushrooms—plus, it's thin crust. No shame. Unlike other kids I've seen eat, Parker is very focused on his food. He sits and eats almost without saying anything at all. This, actually, is odd for a different reason, because Austin and Monica are so outgoing. It seems like their son didn't inherit that trait, or he at least hasn't grown into it yet. But like a child, he hates the crust. Other than two crusts there was nothing left on the plate. He went back to watch cartoons.

Torry came down eventually with his and Keegan's dishes. A quick thanks was said and he raced back upstairs. I was back on the couch watching over Parker. Coloring had become monotonous by this time and it was growing late. The yawns he expelled only gave proof to the fast approaching end of consciousness. I went upstairs to fetch a small blanket for him. Before I even finished laying out the blanket over him, he was fast asleep in my lap.

"Enough of this cartoon crap," I muttered softly, changing the channel to a program with a bit more edge.

. . . It's funny. One moment I'm watching one of my favorite movies and the next I'm being woken up by the sounds of someone entering the house. I pushed the info button on the remote and checked the time. Holy shit, it's two in the morning. I can't believe Tyler and them are just now getting home. They must've been having loads of fun.

"Oh, my God, that was so much fun!" Tyler exclaimed loudly. From the slur of his words and pure enthusiasm at such a late hour I could tell he was beyond wasted.

"Shh, babe," Jared said on a much quieter note.

"Where're my boys?" Tyler again spoke too loudly.

Austin and Monica appeared through the dining room. Clearly they hadn't drunk nearly as much, if at all. Austin tiptoed to the couch and carefully picked Parker up in his arms. I stretched, watching them walk away. Monica reached into her purse and—not so slyly—dropped a folded piece of green on the floor. I rolled my eyes, and stood. She looked over her shoulder and smiled. Her and Olivia's mom probably know each other and wager against my politeness. Near the front entry, Jared held his hand over Tyler's mouth while our friends left with their sleeping child. Right when the door closed and the hand came from his mouth, Tyler began laughing uncontrollably.

"I felt like a secret agent just now! Holy hell, Dickman!" he managed to say.

"Tyler, damn it, be quiet!" Jared seethed.

"It's cool, Jared." I said calmly. "You know the boys don't wake up to yelling."

He nodded in agreement, a smile finally on his face.

"Yeah, Jared," Tyler mocked. "So let's party!"

Tyler stumbled towards the kitchen. I followed him in just to make sure he wouldn't break anything, or spill anything on my newly cleaned floor.

"Can you watch him for a second? I need to use the bathroom."


"You know," Tyler started once Jared was already gone. "I love you so much, Travers. You're such a good boy and I . . . I am so proud of you."

Tyler is a very loving and happy drunk, had it not been entirely obvious thus far. For that, I am grateful. I've read the stories and heard through word of mouth about how violent and angry some drunks can be. I haven't ever been subjected to that, but just the thought of being abused—well, I can only imagine how difficult it must be to live in a household such as that. The constant fear of being the victim of anger, waiting for it to happen. Every time a raised voice is heard, "Are they fighting again? Please don't let it be me. I'm so scared. I hate this." I feel very fortunate I never had to deal with that, at least not here.

"And you know what . . . what else?" he mumbled, staring me directly in the eyes. "Fuck Trevor! You can find someone way better! Someone who treats you like a king! That fucking bastard. We should go fuck him up."

Okay, I started to laugh. He was so serious, but so not serious because of his state of mind. There was no response appropriate enough. I kept silent, apart from my giggles.

"Okay, I'll take him from here." Jared stepped into the kitchen, rolling his sleeves up along the way. "You should think about going to sleep, Trav. It's really late."

"No!" Tyler yelled dramatically. I giggled some more. "We can't go to sleep yet! It's . . . it's, like, only early and stuff so we should party some more. Travers, grab a bottle and let's watch some crazy stuff on the boob tube."

Oh, my God, when he's drunk he turns straight! Maybe not, but this is so hilarious. I've never seen Tyler so fueled up on alcohol. He's never been so wasted.

"Tyler, you need to quiet down." Jared sternly ordered. "Come on, let's go to the bedroom."

Tyler's eyes shot open. He stood, staring intently at the two of us. "Jared. We. Should. Totally. Have." He paused, looking around. "Sex." The way he said it was so dramatic and so ridiculous, not even his husband could resist laughing as uncontrollably as I.

I grabbed a cup and filled it with water. However funny he may be, Tyler needs to hydrate himself. I foresee a horrible hangover later today. He took the cup from me—plastic, of course—and drank it all down. That probably wasn't the best idea, though. For when he set the cup down, a grumbling came from his stomach. He clutched at it, appearing suddenly green. Before any more moves were made, Tyler burped and covered his mouth, fleeing towards the bathroom.

"I'll let him practice a new career for a bit."

"Gnarly," I muttered.

"How was your night?"

"It went smoothly. Parker just colored and watched TV. We fell asleep on the couch."

Jared smiled. "You know, Austin and Monica really appreciate when you babysit for them."

"I know that," But it always feels heavenly to learn I'm appreciated.

"Just saying. Do you want kids?"

Many a times have I thought about that question. Would I ever want kids? They can be a handful, no doubt about that. Look at Keegan and Torry. They can also be rather expensive. What, with diapers and food and clothes and school. But children are also adorable and it would be nice to have a true meaning to life. I don't know. I'd love kids, but the circumstances would need to favor the decision. I would need to have my life sorted out. I wouldn't want to be in school still. I'd want a very secure, profitable career as to take excellent care of the child. It also wouldn't be bad to have a significant other to help raise him or her. Actually, no hers for me, only hims; I don't know the first thing about girls.

"Someday in the distant future I think having a couple of kids couldn't hurt."

Jared nodded in agreement. "As long as you're able to take care of them." A loud crashing with the sound of breaking glass came from the other side of the house. "Not my candle! Tyler!"

Well . . . he has his feminine moments . . .

Hey, hey, hope you all enjoyed chapter seven. I know it's super late. The worst case of writer's block bombarded me. But hopefully the content made up for it. Let me know what you thought!

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