victim// a salvis fanfiction

five~ villain's partner in crime

Heyo!! This chapter contains mentions of child abuse! Watch out for the *!

And this chapter, like all chapters, contains harsh language and should be read with that in mind!

It was that same day when Larry came back from his vacation, arriving home a little over an hour after school had let out. I was thankful, desperate to talk to someone who I knew would understand me.

As soon as the elevator doors opened I was bolting out of them and within mere seconds, knocking on the Johnson's door, practically buzzing with excitement.

Lisa opened the door, looking down at me with a loving smile plastered on her face. Immediately, I've been enveloped in a comforting hug I had been needing a lot more than I had anticipated.

"Hiya Sal," she said, letting go of the hug and instead holding me at arms distance, looking over me as if she was checking for any injuries. I put my hands in my pockets. She smiles again, seemingly satisfied with her health check, "How ya doing, sweety? Everything been alright? It's only been a week, I know, but I've missed you."

I nodded, "I've been doing just fine Mrs. Johnson, how was the trip?" I knew I came down here to talk to Larry, but Lisa's just so sweet it's easy to get distracted.

She patted my head and held the door open a bit more, "Call me Lisa, Sal. And it was amazing, shame you couldn't come. Next time?"

I took a step inside and watched her shut the door behind me, "Of course, I'd love to come."

Lisa smiled, pleased, and turned to the kitchen. "Larry's where he always is, I'll be checking over the pipes if you need me." Before I could respond she was already busying herself with a box of tools I'd never be able to understand.

I opened Larry's bedroom door to see a complete disaster. Clothes and empty soda cans scattered across the floor. Stray papers gracefully gliding through the smoke filled air, and in the middle of it all stands Larry, tossing papers carelessly behind his shoulder as he scourers through his desk.

"Larry?"

He pauses for a moment at my voice only to continues his rampage, moving on to his drawers of painting supplies. Brushes and bottles thrown haphazardly around the room.

"Larry, what the fuck are you doing?"

He finally turns to me, a look of horror and distress in his eyes. "My weed! It's missing!"

Immediately I follow him in his search for drugs. "What do you mean it's missing?" I demand, crawling under his bed and pulling out a collection of shoe boxes. "If your weed is missing what are you smoking right now?"

"I mean its missing! Some dickwad must've snuck in my room while I was on vacation and switched it out with oregano!"

I stop, suddenly overcome with laughter. "And you fell for that? You smoked oregano?"

Something hits me in the head, presumably an empty paint bottle. "Fuck off!" I only laugh harder and after a few seconds I hear Larry laughing too.

Somehow, we've cleaned his entire room within a matter of minutes and now we lay on his floor, starting up at the ceiling in silence.

"What happened to your hand?" I turn over and look at him, but his eyes never left the roof. He saw it as soon as I came in his room, didn't he?

"Travis happened, the usual."

"The usual is his hands looking like that, you never fight back. What happened, Sal?"

"I fought back. He beat me up on Monday and then I saw him this morning and I decided I was tired of it so I beat him up." The anger in my voice is more aggressive than I thought it would be, but can you blame me?

Larry is quiet, the silence slowly killing me from the inside out. What is he thinking? Why won't he just say something?

"I'm proud of you. You know I've always supported the idea of giving Travis what he deserves. I guess I'm just concerned. I mean, you never let him get to you. Out of all of us, you were the last one I expected to fight back, you know? Did anything happen?"
***
"Right, because you're weak."

His fist flying toward my face. The fear leaving me a trembling pathetic mess.

"See? Weak."
***
"Nope, just tired of Tavis's shit I guess." I chuckle a bit, a nervous one but to Larry its one of amusement. And that's what I need it to be.

I don't know why I feel like I can't tell him about it, we tell each other everything. From our deepest secrets and traumas to how we both failed the English test. Some things matter, and some don't. But we've always said everything, always been truthful with each other. I just can't, I can't bring myself to tell him this.

He sits up and looks down at me, one eyebrow raised. Why can't he just believe me? If I wanted to tell him I would. He should get that. It's not his business.

Maybe my annoyance is visible in my eyes because he quickly shrugs and stands up, leaving the room without a word. I let my shoulders relax, closing my eyes and exhaling slowly. I let my mind wander, from the vast emptiness to the depths of anger. One face stays persistently planted in my thoughts like an invasive weed. Travis Phelps.

God, I hate him.

"I hate Travis Phelps." Does he read my mind? I look over to see Larry standing in the doorway, a cup of water in hand. "I've been tired of his shit for years and no one else seemed to be that bothered. Thought I was going crazy. Hey, what do ya say Sally Face? Just one of us wrecked him in a matter of minutes, yeah? Imagine what we could do together." I've never seen that fire in his eyes.

"Oh, Larry Face, you know I'm in."