-God's Will-

-Sinner in the Making-

Travis POV:

"God forgive me. I repel my sins and I wish you guide my sinner thoughts and make me go to the rightful path to salvation. Amen..."

I prayed. I surely had to. I was thinking like a sinner right now. A faggot. It was because of him. The new kid from Jersey that came around freshmen year. His unnormal blue hair, and his stupid blue eyes. I drowned when I stared into them, they gave off a sparkle when he was happy. I never talked to him before, just gazing from afar. His emotionless mask covers that mysterious face of his. I wondered... "Travis, night honey," my mother said softly. "Night ma'am," I said. I love my mom. She was my rock, my safe space, my hope when something was bad. She protects me from my father's attacks. She was the only person I respected really; I couldn't be that way with my father. I hated him. Hate, a strong word, I hate his whole entirely, and despised his being of existence. Because he's the pastor in my town, he's all high, and mighty. A serious goodie-two-shoes.

Sometimes it baffles, and yet wonders me, how my mother met him. Wondering how she could be with him from the beginning, then having me. I wonder what she saw him, or what she used, think of him. I never seen him as a figure I respected, I would never think of him as my "true" father. A being I was forced to follow, a shadow hovering over me. Making every decision for me and forcing his ways onto me. His flesh, and blood. I gaged at the thought of me being related to that fucker. A man people in the stupid town never got to see, but me, and my mother. We got his true wrath from him. I saw the devi him, but I could never say anything. Who's going to believe a pastor, a man of God, to be bad, and horrible person. Surly not me, not his son. If I could, I would call him by his first name, Kenneth, but that would be the result of sharp slap across my already bruised face, and yelling.

I sat in my bed, holding my cross. My mother gave it to me to turn evil way, it didn't help. That evil was Kenneth, and it would never leave. This house was hell itself, and the devil was sleeping in his room, with that an angel of a women, my mother. He wasn't always like this. My mother told stories of him. A man who was the opposite of Kenneth. That he was that of a "normal" guy. I had this one picture. Mom gave it to me, it was me. Will I was little, siting with my mother. Having a picnic at Wendigo Lake. He was fishing in the background. I wish I seen that side of him again. Knowing my luck, that time will be never.

I turned away from the picture, and I turned my lamp off. I would hate the next morning, he always woke up, "on the wrong side of the bed," I woke up to his yelling, and screaming at my mother, with me fearful in my room. I prayed to the being called "god" again. "Dear lord..I pray that you, just make my mother have a good morning tomorrow. I wish for him not to be a raging devil, but peaceful... Just one morning, give her peace. Amen..." I dropped my hands in my lap. I turned for the night, hoping my praying would work. Hoping that being in the sky would answer it though, but would it ever happen. Why would they?

I woke up to screaming. I knew it. Praying never helped anything, I didn't even why I try anymore. I was in my blood to pray, to turn to a being in the sky, with questions, and hope for answers. None. None ever be answer though. I woke up and got ready for a hellish day at school. I put my work in my school bag and pull it on. I walked down the stair, trying to be quiet. If I did as make much as creek on the staircase, his target would be me. I looked over at my mother, who had a bruise on her eye.

"Good morning honey," she snivels, wiping her noses. I look over at the table, my father glazing through me. He looked piss, but that was him. Good, old, wonderful Kenneth Phelps. "Whats you lookin' at boy?!" he aggressive said, tapping his fingers on the table. His brows screaming with anger. I looked over, away from him. "Nothing sir," I wasn't lying. He was nothing to me. I stared at the ground, waiting for a cue to left. "Get going to school," he ordered. I when to the door, not wanting to be there anymore. I looked back at my mother, who was doing dishes, hoping she be alright. I hated to leave her with that man, who was the farthest from holy, and pure, you'd even seen. I open the door and starting walking to school.