✞ ℍ𝕠𝕝𝕪 𝕎𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣 ✞ (salvis)

1

AN: Hey! Just another trigger warning if you didn't heed the last one. This chapter will describe abuse and homophobia. Please proceed with caution.
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It was the first day of school after a long summer. My face was sunken and my ribs poked from my skin. They were hidden by my baggy purple sweater. My soft jawline looked sharpened by the thinly stretched skin. I almost looked grey in tone. Maybe it was my bathroom lights. I took the old concealer I hardly used anymore and used it to hide my deep dark circles. I sighed softly. I ran a hand through my long hair. It was blonde like my father's. I hated it. I slowly inched open the bathroom drawer and pulled a pair of scissors from the drawer. I stared at myself and took a deep breath.

"You can do this," I whispered. I took the scissors to my hair and when I was done it didn't even touch my neck. It was short. I scoffed at myself.

I took a deep breath after cutting my hair and moved to clean the hair from the floor and sink. As I was finishing the cleaning there came a knock to the door. I flinched. The long hair was a punishment. I cut it. Now I would be in trouble.

"Travis," my father spoke. "You've been in there a while. Are you ok?"

"Y-yes father," I whispered. I quickly flushed the toilet, where I had dropped the hair. I watched as the toilet flooded. "Just a moment!"

"Are you sure?" His gruff voice came through the door and then I heard the knob turn.

"Yeah! I'm fine the toilet just clogged," I called to him.

"I'm coming in," he said. I heard the door swing open and cringed.

I heard his foot steps stop as I plunged and flushed the toilet. It was so quiet I could almost hear my heart beating in my ears. The silence felt to drag in forever as my fathers black eyes bore into me.

"I'm sorry," I squeaked out. I said it simply to break the silence.

"You're not fucking sorry," my father scoffed. "If you were sorry you wouldn't have fucking done it."

I whimpered as he walked over me. He grabbed me by hair and drug me down the hall by my shirt. He was taking me to the prayer room. It was this room in our house with Bible pages plastered in the walls. A table with cups of wine set under the two large windows of the room. A single candle sat on the table as well. The floor was wooden like the other floors off the house. He pushed me to the ground and I knew what was coming. I sat in my knees and prepared for what I got.

I pulled off my sweater, exposing my soft skin to his harsh punishment. I'd rather my skin be busted and bruised than to bloody the sweater in my hands. I sobbed into the sweater as my father pulled a thick wooden cane off the wall. It came to my father's hip and was about as big around as his grip. Mind you, my father was not a small man. The top of the cane was a bird's head. The eyes of the bird were dark red gem stones. I braced myself as the can cracked across my back. I cried out, but no one came to my aid. No one would. This room was soundproofed.

"What. Do. You. Not. Get. About. Honoring. Thy. Mother. And. Thy. Father?!" He shouted at me. With each word I felt the cane hit my back. He pushed me rather roughly and I fell forward onto the hard floor. I sobbed into the sweater, gasping for air. "Get ready for school, Travis. When you return home there will be no fucking dinner waiting for you."

With that I heard my father leave the room. I wasn't sure what to do for a moment. I shakily stood and limped down the hall way. It felt as if I would collapse with each step. I found myself in my room. I pulled a little box from under my bed and opened it. I used the mirror in my room to tend the wounds.

My bus would be along shortly. Another hellish year with kids who only knew me as the pastors faggot son awaited me. They didn't really think I was gay, but they liked how it pissed me off. They liked pushing me around. Maybe I'd try pushing them around this time.

I grabbed my backpack, not throwing it on as I usually would, and struck out the door to the stop on the corner of my street. I watched the bus pull up, I climbed onto the bus, and I took a seat towards the back.

I was in my own head, honestly half looking for a target on the bus. Someone I thought I could easily pick on and push down. I found no one until we arrived at the Addison apartments. Usually it was Larry and his fag friend alone, but today there was a new person. She was a girl with blue hair and pigtails. She wore a weird mask and a skirt with a black jumper. She sat with Larry and Todd right across from me. At least I thought it was a girl until he spoke. I chuckled.

"Hey Larry! Was one faggot not enough? You really tryna expand your homo parade?"

"Shut up Travis," Larry went to stand up but the new kid laid a hand on his shoulder.

"It's not worth it Larry, just ignore him," the guy said.

"Aww, is that your boyfriend Larry? I didn't know you were a fag I just thought you felt bad for em!" I laughed.

"Travis," the new kid said softly. "Shut up. You don't know me and—"

"I know plenty about your kind, fag boy," I barked at him. "Larry and his little faggot posse. Trust me I know enough."

"Leave Sal alone," Larry demanded. Now I had a name.

"Aww little Sally?" I chuckled. "What kinda fuckin nam-"

Before I could even process what was coming I felt Larry's fist meet my face. I reacted by pushing him. We wrestled on the bus as other kids watched and cheered us on. A foot met my rib, my fist met his face, I felt my nose start bleeding after being hit. It was all so fast. The bus driver pulled over and stood up.

She shouted, "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!!"

Me and Larry stopped and I stared at him. I felt the warm blood rushing down my face. I could already feel my eye swelling. He had my blood on his hand and shirt. Sal and Todd pulled him away from me.

"Travis Phelps, Larry Johnson... Larry you're sitting up front near me," She said firmly.

"What?" Larry chuckled. "He was fucking calling my fri-"

"Larry. Now. The rest of you sit the hell down," she demanded.

I knew why she was defending me. I was a good church boy. Daddy was the pastor and she was a churchgoer. If she didn't defend me my dad could hear about it.

Larry begrudgingly walked to the front of the bus and shortly after we pulled into the school lot. I walked past Larry on my way to the cafeteria for breakfast. I was starving.

"You're fucking dead Phelps," Larry shouted at me.

I ignored him and continued into the cafeteria. I just wanted food for once.