firefly 𑁋 salvis.

XVII

︶ ♫ ˚ ̟

Travis comes to in his bedroom. He's fully dressed in the same clothes he put on before the robe. For a moment, he thinks he was dreaming all of it. That is, until he moves to sit up and feels pain. The pain seems to come from everywhere all at once. He winces, investigating each source of pain as he can. Bruises on his wrists, on his ankles, the burn on his shoulder, the soreness in his throat.

Hands clamping around his wrists, around his ankles, the sound of his voice screaming for them to stop. The clanking of his belt buckle, and then feeling of that stale basement air on his legs as the last thing he had left is taken from him. His dignity.

He feels sick. He has nothing left, now. Everything has been taken from him. His childhood, his family, his happiness. All that is left is Sal. Travis has no friends. Only Sal. But he can't even tell Sal about this. Sal wouldn't believe him. No one would. Travis may have his boyfriend, but truthfully, he is alone.

He stands from his bed, slowly. The bruises on his arms are perfect imprints of hands clamped over the skin. It hurts to move, everything hurts. And God, he's just so tired. But he can't lay around. He feels so disgusting. He feels violated. He was violated. Travis wants nothing more than to claw away his skin, every layer of it, so the feeling of the hands goes away.

He can't do that, though. All he can do is wash it away. And that's exactly what he will do. He makes his way to the bathroom, turning the shower on to the hottest setting it will go, and strips. Travis steps into the steaming shower, relishing in the burning heat of the water beating down on his abused skin. He shuts his eyes for a few moments, eyebrows furrowing at the burning, hardly able to bring himself to open them again. He does eventually, though.

Travis takes his sweet time in the bathroom. He stands under the water and scrubs at his skin, scratches at the scabs and bruises, trying desperately to wash off all the impurities. Tears of pain and betrayal and sadness escape from his eyes, his sobs mixing with the water hitting the floor of the tub. He can never go back to how he was before. He is changed, permanently.

He does not know how long he spends in the shower. After a while, his skin burns and blisters from the water. Red, claw-like marks litter every part of his body he could get his hands on to scratch. Still, everything hurts. Still, he is impure. Travis will never be pure again.