•The Note• {Travis x Sal}

8

TW: abuse, gore?, and vomit (I'm not normally going to do tw's because they're already in the description, but I will for this chapter. I'll also put a start and end in bold letters so if you wanna skip it you can.)

Travis POV:
Gore-ish stuff starts here

Travis didn't know how it started, but it did.

He felt one punch sock him in the jaw, and then another on his eye, in then another on his nose.

Snap.

He felt blood pour from his nose. "Oh god, oh god." He began murmuring as Kenneth continued laying punches on Travis. He felt blood ooze from his eye, too. The same eye where he already had a black eye. Kenneth shoved Travis to the ground and kicked his ribs. Over and over. Each sharp pain and crunch impacting his rib cage, he felt each individual bone dislocate and stab into his flesh. It stung with pain.

At this point, he just wanted to die. He didn't want this to continue anymore, he couldn't take it. That's when Kenneth had pressed his steel-toed boot onto Travis' chest, pressing down. Travis gasped for air, choking on his own spit and blood. Kenneth pressed harder and harder, making each moment even more dreadful for Travis than it already was.

Kenneth released his foot and walked away, leaving Travis to scramble up and run to his bathroom upstairs. Each movement hurt so, so bad. He leaned against the bathtub's walls for support and threw up into the toilet. The stinging sensation of acid and blood swirled together burned his throat, Travis hated it. Each convulsive movement caused his dislocated ribs to stab further into him, and he knew he couldn't go to a hospital. They wouldn't do anything. He'd just have to deal with it.

Gore-ish stuff is over

"Oh god.." Travis whispered through a hoarse breath as he began to pass out, but he had to stay upright. He couldn't pass out, he had to go to school. He couldn't skip, and he most definitely couldn't pass out, or sleep. He wiped his mouth with a nearby rag that hung on a nail that protruded from the wall. He threw the washrag into a hamper and stared into the mirror.

He looked awful.

The bruise on his right eye had nearly doubled in size, and was bleeding quite a lot. It was dried blood by now, and all he had to do was wipe the leftover with his thumb. He hissed at the touch, biting his lip. "Damn it." He cursed as he continued looking at his face. His nose had broken, too. There was nothing he could do. He just needed to get into the shower.

He took off his pajama shirt and stared into the mirror at his chest and sides. There was so many bruises, so, so many. At least 5 traced along his ribcage, on both sides. It was very obvious many of them were dislocated or broken. And a yellow-ish-brown faded footprint bruised uncomfortably on his chest. You could see each individual line and groove Kenneth's boot had. And even the indents of the rocks he had lodged into the groove from walking around on the churches gravel pavement.

Travis stared in disbelief as he traced a finger along each bruise, flinching as he did so. He sighed and turned the shower on, lukewarm. Just enough to where it didn't hurt, but still somewhat warm. Though, he paused. No, he deserved this pain.

He doesn't deserve to be comfortable, his father beat him for a reason, therefore he doesn't get too be comfortable. He deserves to feel pain.

He twisted the cold knob off and twisted the hot knob all the way on, until you could see the steam wavering off of the water. It wasn't much of a change, but it'd hurt, somewhat.

He took off his remaining clothes and stepped into the shower, immediately clenching his jaw and holding back a scream. He felt tears begin to pour out of his eyes as he laid his forehead against the wall of the shower, feeling the water beat down on each bruise and cut.