Get Me To A Church

CHAPTER 20: LAST

TRAVIS

           I don't even remember the dream, but I fucking hate whatever happened in it. I wish I'd just taped my eyes open and stayed awake.

           I do know that Sally Face was in it. It felt good — the dream, I mean — but it was sinful. What we doing was wrong.

           I woke up and... I don't want to get into the details. I just— you get it, don't you? Motherfucking Sally Face was in it. I don't even know what happened! I just know that it was good — but it wasn't, it was sinning — and he was there, and so was I. And when I woke up... I looked down. I had to take a cold shower, just like my dad told me to if this were to happen. Except he probably thought I'd be dreaming of a girl. Either way, it'd be sinful. This was just worse.

           It felt like I had no control over anything anymore. I just wanted to go to home... I just wanted to go to Heaven. Maybe God would send down a flood like in Noah's Arc. He could kill me, he could kill Sally Face. He could kill us and all of his friends. Then I wouldn't have to suffer. Then I could be home again.

           I took my backpack and walked to school without stopping for breakfast. Dad would get onto me for that. Or maybe he wouldn't. He was unpredictable like that.

           My dad can suck my ass.

           I walked faster down the street, past Sal's apartment building. I didn't want to wait for him like I'd been planning to. If I saw him again, I'd do something I'd regret. Like kiss him. Or kick him in the balls.

           If I walked faster, maybe the day would go by faster, too. Like a hamster wheel. I tried it. It didn't work. Oh well. I took longer strides.

           My birthmark is burning. It feels like I've opened a wound on my arm. Fucking faggot sinner. You're making it hurt with your disgusting thoughts. You should just go to Hell.

           I arrived at school. I want to set the building on fire with everyone inside. What the hell is wrong with me?

           Classes happen. They seemed long and torturous while I was in them, but as soon as the bell rang, it felt like no time had passed. I went to lunch. I ate my gross food. No bologna. I nearly laughed. I nearly cried. I couldn't believe that a lunch meat was holding me together.

           Sally Face stopped me in the hall. We talked. I don't know what we talked about. I just remember thinking about specific sentences he said, out of context. It's somehow more interesting. I thought about them as I walked to my next class. School's over. I went home. My dad was angry. I didn't care. I didn't even know what he's mad about.

           "Fuck off," I said.

           He looked at me like a poked bear. "What did you just say?"

           I gulped. "Fuck off."

           He advanced towards me, so I ran out the door. It was raining outside. Usually, I liked the rain. It's peaceful and it was always fun to sit outside in it when my father wasn't home to tell me not to. I didn't that day. I slipped on a puddle of water and landed flat on my back. All the air left my lungs. My dad leaned over me, his shadow making everything darker. He punched me in the nose. Blood gushed out. He grabbed me and pushed me towards the front door. I struggled out of his grip and kept running. He screamed after me. I didn't care.

           I ended up at the church. I pushed the door open and run inside with muddy shoes before the receptionist lady with too-perfect teeth can stop me.

           After I push open another set of doors open, I push a potted plant in the way of the door to stop my dad — if he was still following — from getting through. I was in the garden, with all of its statues of angels. There's one of Jesus and one of Mary. 

           I walked up to Mary. I wished she was my mom instead. Well, not instead of my actual mom. Instead of my dad. Then I'd have two moms, which would be a sin, I guess. Who cares?

           I walked up to the statue of Jesus. He looks so good and perfect. I'd never be like him.

           Finally, I walked to one of the angels and clutched my rosary. I'd said Sal was like a guardian angel to me. It was true. I wished I'd listened to what he'd said when I talked to him last instead of looking at his blank mask and thinking about his pretty voice. Fuck you, Sally Face.

           I sat down on the wet stone tiles below, curling into a ball. Rosary in hand. I fell asleep there, but I didn't dream this time.