"Church Boy."

The move

*A good majority of this story is from Sal's Pov, occasionally being from family, like his dad, or friends like Larry or Travis*

May 13th

TW: SELF-HARM-PILLS-DEPRESSION-MEDICATION-MENTIONS OF ADDICTION-ANGST

My father and I approached the dingy apartments. Whoever thought that neon green would be a good color to paint the windows on a rusty red brick building should have their career ended. 

Terminated. 

Abolished, even.

I'd take it that far.

A warm hand on my shoulder yanked me out of my trance as it pulled me closer. "I think this is good for us, don't you? It'll be a nice change of pace." my father asked. "Yep, sure do." I muttered in agreement, not wanting to disturb what he thought was peace. "Good to hear!" he chuckled, squeezing my shoulder before letting go and letting his hand fall to his side. 

I held my hands open in front of him and he knowingly searched his pocket before an audible "Ah ha!" was heard and then the sound of keys being placed into my hand. "Thanks, Dad. See ya in a few." I called out, sprinting up to the brown door and pushing it open. 

The smell could only be described as a 'must'. It was forced into my nose as I walked into the lobby of the apartment. I walked past silver mailboxes all huddled together on the wall and a bulletin board with flyers and papers for things I didn't bother reading. 

I looked down the brown hallway and just sighed. I noticed the elevator and started making my way over. Pressing the up button, I waited for the metal door to slide open. Once they did, I stepped in and pressed for the fourth floor. I remember that we lived in 402 because my dad recited it to me the whole ride. 

The elevator's ding shook me out of my little zone as it stopped on my floor. I stepped out as the doors slid open just enough for me to slip past, I didn't want to wait for them to fully open. Stepping out, the same smell greeted me, and I subconsciously flinched at the wretched smell. 

"Yuck..." I muttered, walking down the hall and to my door. "401...402!" I thought, pulling out my keys and fiddling with them before finding the correct one. I unlocked the door and was immediately sent into a coughing fit. After swatting away what I could, I took in the interior of our new home. 

I could only see part of the living room, basically, just the parts of the room that the light from the hallway would allow me to. Anyways, I walked in and flicked on the light. It was bigger than I'd imagined. I shut the door behind me and locked it for extra measure. 

The couch was assembled and so was the coffee table. The box with the TV sat next to it. I entered the room nearest the door. It had my dad's desk and computer along with his bed next occupying the farthest wall. 

This was my dad's room. 

I exited and walked to the next bedroom, assuming that one had to be mine. I guessed correctly because my bedframe, TV, and table were already in there. At least my bed was assembled so I'd have somewhere to sleep. 

I threw myself onto the mattress, sighing as my back hit the soft material. "Nice..." I muttered, spotting the box full of my posters. 

*Time Skip*

Dad had come up to the apartment a half hour after me. I decorated the walls with my posters, put my clothes up and put my bedsheets on, also filling my bed with covers and pillows with a very important stuffed animal. One my mother had given me when I was younger.

Gizmo was laying on my made bed, all snuggled up and cute. "Fuckin' meatball..." I muttered, rolling my eyes at the obnoxiously loud but cute purring that emanated from the ball of fur. An agitated meow replied, and I smiled again. 

Setting my alarm clock, I unbuckled my mask and sat it on the windowsill. I slid my shirt off and accidentally looked in the mirror. My heart ached as a scarred face stared back. Those baby blue eyes that always seemed to be brighter than last time...

Always...

I put on an oversized shirt and some shorts. Flicking my lamp on and turning the overhead light off, I stared at my legs and feet. On my thighs, little white lines covered them down to my knees. Those were the scars of nights when I only had myself to get through them. I had nobody to help. 

No friends.

No mother.

No father.

Just me. 

I wanted to forget but the scars made that very difficult, damn near impossible. 

I popped my eye out and sat it next to my bed in the glass of water I had collected much earlier. With a 'plop!', the glass eye was now sitting at the bottom of my cup. It always made me giggle. "Septic eye." I thought, smirking to myself.

When I was younger, my dad would call me his little Cyclops because I always destroyed the little Lego cities he and I would build. The nickname stopped after the incident. Guess my dad never thought his son would actually be a Cyclops, did he?

Guess I'm just full of surprises! 

I sighed again and took down my bushy hair from its two pigtails, allowing it to fall to my shoulders. Only for a moment, though. I quickly collected it again and threw it into a tight, messy ponytail. 

After hours of tossing and turning, my alarm beeped loudly, and I sat up. The bed was comfortable, but I didn't have time to dawdle. The school was waiting and so was my dad. I knew he'd be awake to make sure I got up before my first day. He always did on the first day. Always had to make sure.

"I can't keep doing this..." I scolded myself for another sleepless night. Grabbing my eye from the solution, I popped it into place and moved it, so it looked like a normal one. I brushed out my shoulder-length blue hair and threw it into two twin pigtails. 

I looked in my mirror and jokingly did two little finger guns, knowing I truly hated how I looked, Humor sometimes helped. 

I grabbed a black, turtlenecked sweater and some rusty-red ripped jeans, and the deep blue Converse I wore everywhere. I grabbed my prosthetic and slid it over my face. Buckling it, I made sure it wasn't lopsided and then I moved my hair, so it wasn't all mushy and gross like under the mask was. 

"Alrighty, I don't stink so..." I said, smirking. "Guess no shower since I'm already dressed!" I finished. I left my room after giving Gizmo a few loving pats and scratches. As I had said earlier, my father would be waiting for me. 

And he was.

At the table, reading his newspaper and drinking coffee that he got at the gas station. "Hey, Dad." I greeted, making my way to the fridge to grab water. "Morin' Sal!" my dad way too enthusiastically responded. "What? What's up with you?" I asked. "Nothing, just excited for your first day again. Feels like yesterday that we put you in kindergarten." he responded, smiling sweetly. 

"Dad, stop. You do this every year." I said, rolling my eyes. "I know, I know. It's just hard, seeing my young man grow up so fast." my father said, jokingly wiping underneath his eyes. "Whatever, I get it. I'm growing!" I continued. "If I'm getting so old then why am I still 5'2?" I rhetorically ask, knowing my dad is still going to answer. 

"Just genes, accept it, Sal."

"Oh god, I'm leaving. I need to get going anyways."

"See ya! And be careful!" 

"I will! Love you."

"Love you, too."