"Church Boy."

Enough

TW-VERBAL-MENTAL-PHYSICAL-EMOTIONAL-ABUSE-EATING DISORDER-SELF HARM-SHOOTING-NEAR DEATH-SATANIC SYMBOLS

We arrived home and my father began to smile. I knew what was going to happen, so I ran up to my room and locked the door behind me. My father was now right outside, banging so the door rattled. 

"Open this fucking door!" he screamed, jiggling the handle and banging some more. "Please! Don't!" I cried, hugging my knees to my chest. The banging and yelling stopped. "Travis, please open this door." he kindly requested, stifled anger surging through his voice. "No! I'm not falling for that! Leave! Kick me out, even! I don't care!" I screamed, voice wavering and shaky. "Then leave."

A few minutes later, a loud cracking sound could be heard from right next to me. The door had been split through the center, a large ax through the cheap wood. "You-" I muttered, seeing my father standing there, body shaking. 

"Please..." I whispered, watching as my father charge toward me and knocked me to the ground. He took his hand and balled it into a fist, striking my face as I did my best to cover it. He grabbed my chin and forced me to face him. 

His green eyes shot through me as he slapped me across the face. He then used his other hand to slam my head into the ground. I screamed but he covered my mouth. "You make another sound," he whispered, lowering himself to say it into my ear. "I'll break your jaw..."

A shiver went through my body, and I felt blood gushing from my nose. His hand was on my forehead, forcing my head down, and the other one was by his side and clenched. He raised his fist and struck my eye; a deep bruise would be there soon...

I could barely see now, only out of one eye. He smeared the blood from my nose all over my face, slapping me as he did. "I wish you were never fucking born!" he screamed, spit flying out of his mouth as he yelled. " So do I!" I boldly retorted, letting the pained tears fall from my face. 

He sat up and removed his belt, quickly smacking my torso with it multiple times. He stood up after even more hits, beginning to kick my body as I curled up to protect what I could. "You pussy." he hissed, kicking me so I rolled onto my side. Stomping a foot into my guts, he spat onto my face before leaving. 

I gasped for air as I lie there, shaky and bloody...

It's time to leave...

I tried to sit up but before I could, he was back in my room with a knife. He got on his knees and flipped me effortlessly onto my back. cutting the back of my shirt and exposing my scarred skin. Slowly but violently, he traced the blade down my back, breaking the skin and causing crimson blood to spill out. 

I writhed but to no avail. "The more you squirm, the more I'll hurt you." he threatened, not once removing the cold blade. I knew he was drawing something; I just couldn't figure out what. 

Eventually, he lifted the blade and got off the floor. I felt blood seeping off the sides of my body, contrasting with the cold of the wooden floor, the warm liquid pooled around me. 

I felt dizzy as my father laughed and left, closing the door behind him. "Fuck..." I muttered, putting my hand on my back to evaluate the damage. 

Before I closed my eyes, I could hear screams and gunshots emanating from the rooms beyond mine. "I found him!" a boy shouted, though I couldn't figure out who. "Where?" a woman's voice frantically asked. "Oh my..." she muttered, gasping. "Hurry! He's alive!" he yelled. 

Soon, I felt someone lifting me and putting me on another flat surface. Drifting in and out of consciousness, I heard more people talking and crying.

Sal's POV: 

Ms. Gibson and I broke it, she had brought her gun and wasn't afraid to use it. 

We heard screaming from outside, and even worse, we heard silence right after. We busted in, running into the blonde man who had been at my home. He had blood dripping from his clothes and off of the knife he was holding.

He swung at me, hitting a spot in my arm. Ms. Gibson pulled out her gun and shot him in the arm, causing him to drop the knife. He screamed and I ran up the steps to see if I could find Travis. "I found him!" I yelled, taking a step as I looked at the bloody boy in front of me.

The back of his shirt had been sliced open and his olive skin was exposed. He was bleeding and had the word "Sinner" carved into his back along with a pentagram. "Where?!" Ms. Gibson yelled, following suit. "Oh my..." she muttered, gasping for air.

I picked him up and he nodded in and out of consciousness. We called the ambulance and they arrived quickly. Once they were here, Ms. Gibson and I carried him down and placed him on the stretcher. 

He muttered something that I couldn't have made out if I tried. The paramedics sat with him while one of them cleaned my wounds separately. Once they were finished with me, they went and tended to Travis. 

*Time Skip*

We arrived at the hospital, and they wheeled him out. Once we were inside, they brought him to a room and allowed us to see him after a few hours. I didn't leave the waiting room, not once. 

Ms. Gibson went home as I sat there by myself, sobbing and wishing I could've been there sooner. Wishing I could've said something to save him. 

Wishing I would've never loved him.  

Wishing I could've had some control and stayed away.  

Wishing I never became his friend.

 Wishing I could take back everything I'd ever done.

 Wishing...

 Wishing is never enough...

Hoping he would be okay...

Hoping he'd forgive me...

Hoping he didn't love me...

Hoping that he'd recover... 

Hoping is never enough...