east of eden 𑁋 salvis.

IV

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Travis blinks his eyes open right as his alarm goes off. The sound is muffled, as rather than getting sleep on his bed like usual, Travis had ended up getting maybe two hours curled up in his closet. Last night's beating had been particularly harsh, ending only when Travis barricaded himself in the closet. Still, Kenneth had remained there for hours, beating on the door and telling Travis to open the door.

Travis stands, wincing as the gesture angers all the aches and pains remaining from his own self mutilation as well as yesterday's punishments. He exits his closet, blinking at the bright sunlight that greets his eyes as soon as he's left the dark room. He makes quick work of turning his alarm off, if Kenneth were to hear it go off for too long, Travis would just get another punishment dolled out to him.

Travis quickly gets himself ready, changing band-aids on old wounds and covering newer wounds, grimacing as he's yet again greeted by the word etched on his arm. He'd forgotten that was drawn there by none other than his own shaky hands, in his own messy, blocky writing. Once he's all bandaged, he gets dressed in the usual: a sweater-today's color being grey-and a pair of shorts, tacking in his green converse along with the mess of an outfit, if it could be called that.

Travis catches a glimpse of himself in his bathroom mirror once he's ready for the day, and, in short, he's a mess. Dark circles under bruised eyes, a busted lip, a bruised nose, a slice through his eyebrow, it was obvious he'd gone through Hell last night. His dark roots were growing into his yellow hair, his back aching from the blows delivered to his back last night by Kenneth's belt. He looked like he had one foot in the grave, and to be totally honest, he probably did.

Travis sighs, quickly turning away from the mirror and leaving his bathroom. There's no time to waste here, he smells breakfast being cooked downstairs, and his clock says it's 6:30 AM, meaning his bus'll be arriving at the bus stop in ten minutes. And if he were to miss the bus, well, he'd be in deep shit.

He grabbed his backpack, making sure everything was packed on his way down the stairs. Right as he reached the bottom, a handful of church pamphlets were being shoved into his face. He sighed, though this was typical. At this point, Kenneth didn't even have to command Travis to hand them out, he already knew what to do. With a nod, Travis takes the pamphlets and shoves them in the side pocket of his bag, fully intending to just throw them away at lunch.

"What was that, boy?!" Kenneth shouted, causing Travis to jump a bit. He was extremely on edge, shaking and anxious, though that's not out of the ordinary. Between consistent beatings and hardly eating, Travis was almost always shaking.

"Y-Yes sir." He stuttered out, tossing his backpack onto his shoulders. It harshly hit the open wounds on his back, his sweater providing virtually no cushion against the hit. Travis winced a bit at the pain, which of course just made Kenneth angrier. Kenneth always thought that if Travis showed he was in pain, then that made him weak. No matter what you were feeling, you aren't a real, strong man unless you were keeping it hidden.

Though Travis was luckily saved from another punishment as Deborah called out that breakfast was ready. Kenneth glared at Travis for a moment before going to sit at the table, Deborah sitting across from him. Travis knew he wasn't welcome at the table, not even saying goodbye as he left the house.

Travis sighed, relieved to be out of that house, even if it was just for eight hours. That was better than nothing.

He walked to the bus stop, arriving right as the vehicle pulled up and opened its doors. Travis entered quickly, taking his usual sight right at the back of the bus. Or, he was going to, until he saw a familiar head of blue hair in that seat, accompanied by none other than Larry Johnson.

"Hey, fags. Get the fuck out of my seat." He muttered, eyeing the bus driver as he was yelled at to sit down. Travis didn't listen, of course, he was gonna teach these freaks a lesson if they didn't listen. Larry looked up at him, shrugging before looking away.

Travis quickly let his annoyance at their presence in his seat turn into anger. He doesn't say anything else-Travis Phelps does not, does not, repeat himself-just grabs Larry by the shirt and yanks him out of the seat. He's yet again yelled at, but he just continues to ignore the bus driver as he kicks Larry a few times. All Travis has to do is glare at Sarah and she's out of the seat as well, giving it all to him.

He sits as she crouches down to check on Larry, helping him to stand. The two glare at Travis, but he just glares back until they walk off to find a different seat.

Travis sighs now that he's alone, feeling a bit of guilt for the way he treated the freaks- er, Sarah and Larry. Though in his defense, they were in his seat! And- Those fags need to be taught a lesson by someone. They need to be kept in line!

He shook away the thoughts, unzipping his backpack and pulling out his bible. He had never actually read it, though he pretended to all the time. All the fancy, old-timey words were too much for him to understand properly, and he thought that the stories inside just also didn't really fit right together-like a puzzle missing too many pieces.

Regardless of that, Travis pretended to read it and understand all of it. Only things relating to God or the bible were things that Travis was allowed to intake, only movies about God reviving people or music about how great He is. Understanding the bible was the only way for Travis to fully understand all the other content made about it, so he at least had to pretend.

He opened to a random page, staring at the words until he zoned out and began to think. That's usually what he did, pretend to read but actually be in an entirely different world in his mind. A dream world, one where he has a good father and a mother that didn't leave and where he liked girls and not boys. A world where he had a good life.

Though when he came out of his daydream as the bus halted to a stop in front of Nockfell High, his heart hurt. It ached for that world, ached for the fact that world isn't and will never be reality. He just pushed the hurt away until he was yet again numb, shoving his bible in his bag and getting off the bus. No time for feeling things now, Travis. It's time for the closest thing you'll ever get to Heaven; school. A short escape from everyday life.

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