victim// a salvis fanfiction

four~ inside the mind of the victim

Hey!! This chapter will have mentions of child abuse and violence, watch out for the *!

This chapter, like most chapters, will contain harsh language that maybe be inappropriate for certain audiences and should be read with that in mind!

I also somehow managed to accidentally write this entire chapter in third person without noticing, I hope that won't be an inconvenience for anyone!Thank you for understanding!

Enjoy!! :)

~Travis Phelps~

When Travis came to his first instinct was to open his eyes. This he would soon regret, being blinded by the beaming lights surrounding his tattered body lying barely conscious in the nurse's office of the school's shabby infirmary. The ache in his head became more prominent as he dared to sit up from his uncomfortable position.

Eventually, after gaining enough courage too, he stood from the sorry excuse for a bed and forced himself down the decrepit halls.

**The nurse, a kind lady by the name of Mary Lane, was nowhere to be seen. At first, Travis just figured he had visited Nurse Lane before classes started like he would every day to keep the bruises and cuts from his father in check, but when he saw the bloodstained floor everything came back to him. **

**He remembered what it felt like to be trapped under Sal, the rapid racing of his heart, his fear, and confusion leaving him defenseless. The blue boy's expressionless mask revealing only eyes full of rage. The wave of pain each time Sal punched him spreading across his face like wildfire. The cheers of encouragement from the students around them was the last thing he heard, echoing in his head as his grip on reality slipped away. **

A fit of newfound anger bubbled up from within him, if Sally Face thought he could just outright disrespect Travis like that and not face the consequences? That little prick had another thing coming.

And then he remembered before the fight, the hope in his heart as he made his way through the crowded halls looking for that "little prick." Maybe Travis deserved what happened to him, he was definitely never the nicest to Sal and his friends, the opposite really. Maybe it was time he got what was coming his way. Sure, maybe Sal hated his guts, he couldn't say it was much different for himself, but he shouldn't let that discourage him from trying to fix things. Maybe there was hope for Travis. Maybe if he could earn forgiveness from the people he'd hurt, then just maybe he could forgive himself.

***

By the time Travis had come to, he had slept through all the school day except his last class which meant he didn't have to face Sal which was definitely in everyone's best interest. Sure he didn't want to hurt Sal anymore, but he wasn't sure if he'd be able to stop himself.

Sal made him lose control, and as much as Travis knew that wasn't Sal's fault he found it difficult not to put the blame on the other when he was such an aggravating person to be around. With his freakish mask and stupid blue pigtails and the way he just never cared about anything.

Sal really never cared about anything, it was infuriating. No matter how many insults and punches Travis threw Sal always managed to come out on the other side laughing.

God, his laugh.

***

One thing Travis had failed to consider after his encounter with Sally Face was facing his father. Of course, he could try to come up with some elaborate lie to save his ass, but he knew he could never pull it off. Talking to his father normally practically made him tremble with anxiety and fear, the thought of trying to lie to Kenneth Phelps seemed to be truly impossible.

So, Travis's plan was not to trick his father into thinking he took down ten kids in some huge fight so he would seem heroic. No, it was simple. Just to not say anything.

One blessing and curse of his father was how he never, truly, paid attention to Travis. Of course, he'd ask the occasional "How's school?" But he never really heard Travis's answer.

So as long as he stayed out of Kenneth's radar, he'd be fine. If anything, Kenneth would probably assume he'd done the hurt to Travis himself.

This plan proved to be flawless as Travis entered his house, calling out a greeting and running up the stairs into his room slamming the door behind himself and sinking down onto his bed. The comfort of the knitted blanket gave him the peace of mind to allow himself to relax.

Looking up at the bare ceiling before him, Travis admired of the array of colors painting the blank white canvas of his dismal bedroom. The sunset beyond the windows casted a warm glow on the walls, bringing them to life with remarkable beauty.

Travis was never one for sunsets or flowers or anything considered to be "beautiful" as he knew those things to be feminine. Admiring such delicacies would make him out to be a faggot, a pathetic disgrace. But in this new warm comforting privacy, Travis Phelps turned to look out his window and watch the sunset.

***

August 20, 1985

I don't know what I should do. I want to be nicer, I want to find ways to enjoy my life, maybe express myself even. I just don't know how.

Do I paint a picture? What would I paint? Something I like? I don't even know what I like.

Sal fought me today. Well, I never fought back so I guess a more accurate way of saying it would be Sal beat me today. I wondered to myself if that was how he felt when I would hurt him, trapped, confused, angry, scared.

I never felt remorse for the things I would do to him. Maybe I should have, maybe I'm some kind of sick twisted freak for not feeling anything. But if I'm being honest, if I had felt anything, it would've torn me apart.

I can't put a number on how many times I hurt him, with words or with violence. If I had to guess it'd surely be in the hundreds. At some point I had forgotten why I was doing it. I still don't really know.

Maybe if I knew why I would feel remorse, maybe if I knew him I would feel remorse. But I don't think he wants to know me, especially based off of today. I think I can say with confidence that Sal Fisher hates me. And I can't blame him, not in the slightest.

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