firefly 𑁋 salvis.

III

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The door creaks shut behind Kenneth. He had allowed Travis to take the lead as they entered, which quickly backfired as Travis felt two hands land on his shoulders and push. He didn't even try to stop himself as he fell forward, coming into contact with the cold entryway floor. As he lay there, head pulsing from the hit, he wondered if this was how Sal had felt. It must have been. Travis grimaced, gripping his head with one of his hands. The other grabbed blindly at the floor, trying to find something to hold on to, but coming up with nothing.

A foot came into contact with his ribcage. The air in Travis' lungs exited quickly with a grunt, and the foot retracted. Not for long, though. It quickly came back into contact with his side, leaving a bruising pain in its wake. His eyes screwed shut from the pain, knowing that by the end of tonight, he was going to be painted in purple. As if he wasn't already... This was just going to be more to add to the mix.

"Maybe this will teach you not to be so fucking stupid." Kenneth annunciates his words with another kick, and then he's walking away. Tears build up in Travis' eyes, a few escaping and making a trail down his face, landing on the floor. He tries not to sob, but the pain is just so much. It's not like he hasn't experienced worse pain, though. He has. This is nothing compared to previous punishments. Travis can get through this, and he will. He won't be weak about it, either.

"Get up, fag." Travis hadn't even realized Kenneth was back until he was speaking. Travis swallows thickly, grimacing at the dryness in his throat, and does as told. He shakily moves himself to stand, quickly wiping away the tears on his face. It's not like that matters, though. Kenneth already saw them, and Travis knows it.

Kenneth leads the way down the basement stairs, to a place Travis knows all too well- His prayer closet. It's exactly what it sounds like, a shabby under-the-stairs closet. It's where Travis usually gets taken for his punishments, where he is told to pray until he's learned his lesson. Aside from his bedroom, it's the place in the house where Travis spends the most time.

Kenneth opens the door once they reach it, and Travis knows better than to complain or beg. Neither of them says anything as Travis enters. The door shuts behind him and the sound of the lock clicking echoes in the small room. He sniffles, but he doesn't allow himself to shed the tears that have come back. Travis just tries to make the room as cozy as possible, though it proves to be difficult.

It's a tiny room, so short Travis has to lean to fit when he's standing up. The walls are littered with religious paintings and wooden crosses. A single blanket rests on the floor. A candle, bible, and lighter rest in the corner. Travis is meant to pray here and read the Testaments until he's let out. Usually, he spends a bit of time praying, and the rest of it imagining a life with a family that loves him for who he is.

"You'll stay in here until you learn your lesson." That's always what Kenneth said once the door was locked. Travis doesn't respond, trying his best to make himself comfortable. His hand shakes and his stomach growls. He bites his lip as he sinks to the floor, taking his place on the blanket. He's reaching for the lighter and candle when Kenneth speaks again.

"Tomorrow I'll let you out for a bit. You need to visit that queer and his family. It won't do any good for us to get sued over your lack of brains." Travis flicks the lighter on, letting Kenneth's words sink into his brain. He sniffles again, lighting the candle.

"Yes, sir." Only then does Kenneth leave. Travis listens to his footsteps walk off, followed by the creaking of the stairs above him. When he hears the basement door click shut, he finally allows himself to let go. He cries as his head and side throbs. Kenneth's words echo through his brain... He was so stupid. Travis was just a stupid faggot. He deserved to suffer. He didn't deserve anything good. Travis wished someone would just kill him already.

He flicked the lighter on again. The heat was tempting, the knowledge of the pain that would flicker across his body if he were to ignite his skin. He waved a finger above the flame, relishing in the painful heat. The finger traveled lower, lower, lower, and then it was on fire. Instinctually, Travis screamed, throwing the lighter as far away as he could. What's done is done now, though. His finger burned, and he watched in the dim candlelight as the skin puffed up and turned red.

Travis looked around the room. Saints stared down at him from their places on the walls, reminding him of his place. He was a lowly sinner, and they were holy figures. They were watching him constantly, making sure he was doing as he was supposed to. That's why this room existed, and why he currently sat on the dusty floor. He was here to be put back into his place.

Travis clasped his shaking hands together, hissing at the burning the contact brought to his finger. His lips trembled as he bowed his head to the figure in the painting above it- Jesus, staring down at him. He moved to sit on his knees, and he prayed.

-x-

Someone's whispering his name. Travis looks around, but can't find anyone near him. He wasn't even in a room, he was in an endless abyss. Darkness surrounded him, but there was a light far off in the distance. His name was repeated. The voice sounded familiar, but the name of who it belonged to was trapped in the abyss.

He stepped towards the light in front of him. When nothing happened, he continued walking. No matter how far he walked, though, the light never got any closer. It stayed a million miles away, at the end of the tunnel Travis seemed to be caught in. He felt hopeless, but he had to reach the end. He had to get out.

His steps turned to a sprint, and suddenly there it was. A bright, pulsating light. Travis lifted his hand, staring at it for a moment. It was perfect, not a scar or blemish in sight. He lifted his other hand to find the same result. He looked down, trying to analyze his entire body for the marks that littered his tan skin, but he was covered from the neck down in robes.

The light in front of him whispered his name once more. Travis lifted his head to look at it, trying to see if there was anything on the other side of it. The light seemed to tower over him, it was infinite. He could easily step inside it and disappear. Maybe that's what it wanted from him. He moved a hand, and soon it was swallowed by the light.

He felt warmth, and then burning hot fire. Travis tried to pull his hand out, but it was stuck. He was stuck, being burned. His only chance of escaping was to step inside the light. A sob escaped him at the sheer pain of the burns, but he persevered. He had to, there was no other choice. To end his suffering, he would have to go through hell.

One by one, Travis' limbs were pushed through into the fire, until he was swallowed whole by the pain. It lasted only for a second, and then suddenly he was somewhere else.. He felt weightless. He opened his eyes, not even realizing that he had ever closed them in the first place.

Travis was hanging from a cross, crucified. Pain suddenly swallowed him once more, attacking his wrists and ankles where they were nailed to the wooden cross. It spread to his back, where he had been lashed as he was walked up to the cross before his crucifixion. Finally, the pain moved to somewhere that he couldn't explain the reasoning for- His right eye.

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