TRAVIS POV AND WARNINGS FOR BRIEF MENTIONS OF RELIGIOUS TRAUMA AND ABUSE.
I stared in disbelief at the man who I swore I would never speak to again that fateful night I left. He glared at me, his blonde hair fluffed up around his face. His hand on the bible clutched harshly as anger flooded his eyes. I flinched at that look, I was used to it. That was the look I got before many, many punishments that left my young body scarred, bruised, a sight nobody wanted to see. I shuddered at the thought of his purifying treatments 'my father' would give me after I would visit my mom. "Those sinners are leaving dirt on your body, and your body is a temple for God. You want a clean, pure temple for the Lord don't you?". I clenched Sal's hand, causing his masked face to look over at me. Confusion left in his icy blue eye. Sal broke the tension with his voice, the only source of comfort I had. "You're Travis' Dad? I never would have guessed. You two seem so...... Different." Father put on his best fake smile, one nobody saw through. "Travis! My son, where have you been? The church missed you. You left before we could even get you prepared to work with us. That makes you seem quite rude son." My voice was gravely and broken but I spoke. "I went to art school, Father." "And last I heard, you flunked out. Humiliating wasn't it?Hm?" I grit my teeth and balled up my fists in a familiar fashion. I was angry. But there was something more than anger. I glance over at Sal's prosthetic face and eye my down, ignoring my father's conversation with Henry. Sal and I already had sex and even proposed a potential relationship within a week. Something drew us in together. It felt so wrong to be with him, I assumed just my past with the church. But it was more. It felt wrong, so wrong. Especially with father here, he doesn't even know it yet. I look over at the coffee table where I have a small necklace sitting. The symbol on it is something I have seen everywhere at my church. I was told it was a fashion statement by some, and a protection item like sage by others. I remember the day I got it. Father pricked my finger and pressed my blood against it. He promised it was a Catholic traditional item. I wasn't skeptical until I left the religion years later. I always kept the necklace in the belief it wards off evil. But something about it, connected me to it. It was a forced connection, like a family gathering. In my brain it interfered with my connection with Sal. Is this religious guilt? It fes worse. As if the necklace is a real person that was betrayed by Sal. And I'm rubbing it in it's face by being with him. It's tormenting me. I got lost in this train of thought until Father got my attention. "Travis Obediah Phelps... Are you listening to me? It's rude to ignore guests. I raised you better than that. I raised you better than these heathen clothes too..." My mind swam with anger. Who was he to dictate my fashion??? I wanted to beat him with a bat-No a chainsaw. I wanna murder him in the mist gruesome way possible.
A/N- I have so many more things I wanna write but I gotta space them evenly. Is this what edging feels like?
YOU ARE READING
Strange Neighbors to Strange Lovers
Fanfiction(look at the first parts from Robbie_Is_Rabid, that's the beginning of the story) Sal has just left his abusive wife via the help of a blonde man that moved in next-door. Their relationship has blossomed within less than a month, moving extremely fa...
