*Bottled-Up Emotions* ~ A Slavis Fanfiction *Sal Fisher x Travis Phelps*

~ Sunrise ~ 1

Travis' POV - 

He rolled on his side groaning, his unkept dirty blonde hair shielding his bruised and swollen face. An alarm roared in his ears, flashing the number 5:00. His father always made him wake up early, he was lucky if he had even gotten a good 7-hour sleep, but he knew his father would never allow that.

He rubbed his eyes and winced in pain as he did so, recalling last night's events that led to his right eye's unfortunate condition, the bruise throbbed painfully. It didn't look like it would be healing anytime soon, but he deserved it for sinning, his bruises were reminders to behave.

He sat up, letting his blanket fall down his body. He got up quickly, not wanting his father to punish him for not waking up at his 5:00 alarm. He recited his usual morning prayer; slowly lowering himself to his bruised knees, bringing his hands together, and forcing a weak smile.

"Thank you for protecting me from sin. Help me find the right path, and help me embrace you as my Lord and anything that comes my way as an opportunity to serve you.  Amen"

He gritted his teeth, an uneasy feeling lingered within him. He got up quickly and staggered to his wardrobe, observing the very few clothes that hung neatly. He decided on wearing his favourite purple sweater, paired with some blue-jeaned shorts and his green sneakers. 

He was aware that the purple sweater was considered 'feminine'. His father had always told him that purple was a girl's colour, but he didn't care. Purple was his mother's favourite colour, it was a piece of her that Travis couldn't lose, he found comfort in it when times were tough, it holds her love in it, the love that Travis yearned for every day.

-

Leaving his trail of thought, He grabbed his rosary from his bedside table and made his way to the bathroom. His rosary was a gift from his mother before she disappeared. Travis's father had always said she left them; that she had left them because of Travis, but he knew this was a lie, she wouldn't leave them. She wouldn't leave him.

When he reached the bathroom, he glanced at the mirror, studying his face which was beaten black and blue, he hated how much it resembled his father's, the only thing he inherited from his mother was his soft, brown eyes, but you could hardly see them behind the layers of anger and hatred his father had imprinted in his skin.

Travis was hoping the bruises wouldn't be too visible, but God seemed to have other plans for him. Dried blood clung under his nose from the previous evening. He hadn't bothered cleaning it. He was just too exhausted.

He wiped his nose and attempted to cover as much of his bruised eye as possible using concealer, his father would have killed him if he knew Travis was using makeup: "makeup was for girls and girls only". That's what he had always been told, but he had no choice.

He couldn't risk anyone becoming suspicious. It was surprising how no one had questioned why he always arrived at school with new bruises. But he figured that people assumed it was from school fights, either that or they simply didn't care; this wouldn't surprise him. People always tried their best to avoid him. He was the school bully, he was feared. And that was how it was going to stay. This was his life now.

Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his backpack and made his way downstairs.

-

Pushing his fears aside, he spoke up.

"Good morning Sir," Travis said as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

His Father, not averting his gaze from the paper in his hands, grunted in response. Travis could smell the alcohol on his breath from miles away, but he decided to ignore it; he didn't want to irritate his Father. He cautiously made his way to the front door.