Beneath the masks | 𝘀𝗮𝗹𝘃𝗶𝘀

3. why are you like this

Travis pov:

As lunch ended, I walked through the bustling hallway, feeling like I was moving in slow motion. The laughter and chatter of the other kids faded into the background as my mind replayed the morning's events. I could still hear Sal's voice, his words of thanks, and the surprised look in his eyes when Ash and Larry came to his defense.

Why did I act like that? The question was more than just a passing thought—it was a heavy, painful ache deep in my chest. It wasn't the first time I'd played the bully, but today it felt different. It felt wrong. The image of Sal's mask, his hopeful yet guarded eyes, haunted me.

I walked faster, the corridor seeming to stretch endlessly before me. It wasn't just about control or fear anymore. There was something else—a gnawing guilt that I couldn't escape. Sal hadn't done anything to me. He was just trying to get through his first day, and I made him the target. It was like I was trying to prove something to myself, to others, but all I ended up proving was how deep my own insecurities ran.

I remembered the first day I came to this school. I had been the new kid, too. I remembered the loneliness, the desperate hope that someone would reach out, that maybe I'd find a place where I belonged. And I remembered the crushing feeling when I realized that wasn't going to happen easily. So, I adapted. I learned to protect myself by being the one who struck first, by being the one who seemed invincible.

But now, seeing Sal's face, I couldn't shake the image of what it was like to be him. The mask wasn't just a physical barrier—it was a shield, a way to hide from a world that felt unwelcoming and cruel. And I was the one making it worse.

As I reached my next class, I felt the weight of my actions settle heavily on my shoulders. I slumped into my seat, the room blurring around me. Every glance, every sneer I'd thrown at Sal this morning now felt like a betrayal of everything I had once hoped for myself.

The irony wasn't lost on me. I was scared of being alone, so I pushed someone else into that isolation. I was terrified of not fitting in, so I made sure Sal felt even more out of place. It was a cruel, bitter cycle, and I was stuck in the middle of it, unable to break free.

I stared blankly at the front of the room, the teacher's voice a distant murmur. My own thoughts drowned out everything else. I couldn't stop replaying Sal's face, his uncertainty, and the quiet resolve of Ash and Larry. They didn't seem to care about his mask or his place in this school. They just accepted him.

And that was the hardest part to face—knowing that someone out there was getting what I had desperately wanted but never had. Someone was being welcomed, truly welcomed, while I continued to build walls around myself, hiding behind the facade of control and toughness.

As the class droned on, I felt a pang of sadness that I couldn't quite explain. It was about the part of me that was still that scared, lonely kid, hiding behind a mask of my own making. And right then, I wasn't sure how to fix it.

All I knew was that for now, I had to keep playing the role I'd created. But inside, a small voice whispered that maybe, just maybe, there was a different way to be. A way that didn't involve hurting others to protect myself. It was a voice I wasn't ready to listen to yet, but it was there, and it was beginning to make itself heard.