Meet You at the Graveyard.

Chapter Ten

(SMALL ABUSE WARNING)
I wake up in my bed, my eyes adjusting to the light as I sit up. I rub my eyes as I slide out of bed, walking towards the bedroom door and down the stairs.

My eyes meet my father, and suddenly fear floods through my body as I stare up at him, and I could practically feel the anger and hatred radiating off of him.

"What the fuck are you looking at?!" He shouts, his hands balling into fists as he stares at me, and I quickly advert my gaze, staring down at the floor.

"Sorry." I mumble, my hands trembling at my sides slightly.

"What did you say?" He asks, already walking towards me, his shoes coming into my vision.

Should I look up at him? Or do I not?

"What did you say?" He repeats, and when I was about to open my mouth to answer, he slaps me across the face so hard I fall to the ground, my whole body trembling.

Don't cry.

"I said I'm sorry..." I whisper, my hand cupping my cheek as I force myself to look up at him, which I instantly regret.

"Did I say you could look at me?!" He barks, his hand balling into a fist before he suddenly swings his arm back before he hits me right on the eye, my hands covering my face.

I bite down hard on my cheek to keep the cry that wants to leave my throat at bay, my face burning in pain. My eye was basically throbbing as I stare at the carpet below me, then a drop of blood falls onto the nice, clean, carpet.

"Did you just ruin the fucking carpet?!" He screams, grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling me towards him, a small cry managing to escape my lips before he hits me again and again and-
(END OF ABUSE)

I wake with a jolt, my heart pounding so fast I feel like I could have a heart attack. What the fuck was that?

It wasn't... It wasn't me.

That nightmare wasn't about me. It wasn't something that ever happened to me. I've never lived in a two story house... I've never even had white carpet.

Who the fuck did I just dream about?

It couldn't of been any of my friends... And since it's not them, I have no clue who it could possibly be.

I run my hand over my face, trying to calm down. But it was no use, my heart was still going crazy as well as my mind.

I don't even remember what the man looked like. Or if I ever saw what he actually looked like. I didn't pay attention to what I was wearing, because it all seemed familiar, like something I was used to.

My mind acts like it knows exactly who it was about, but I can't come up with the name, or a picture of what they looked like. My mind was just... Blank but had thoughts all at the same time.

Should I go tell Larry about it? Maybe... Maybe he'll know?

I grab a sweatshirt off of the floor, tugging it on as I slide out of bed, already deciding to go see Larry.

When I step out of my room, dad was passed out on the couch. I shake my head before I slip out of the apartment, heading towards the elevator.

As the elevator slowly goes to the basement, my mind drifts to my conversation with Phillip.

"What's up, Sal?" Phillip asked, his voice laced with confusion on why I would be calling him, of all people.

"Hey, I know this is strange... And not my place at all, but I know that you and Travis are friends."

Phillip was silent for a moment too long before answering. "Yeah, what about him?"

What about him? Why didn't he just ask what about it?

"Uhm... I noticed you were gone today but that's beside the point. I just noticed that Travis was really... Off, today. I know he'll kill me if he finds out I went as far as telling you about it, but- He clearly wasn't okay."

"How was he acting?" Phillip asks almost immediately.

I was a bit shocked and confused, but continued, "He was just... A mess, really. He would space off in class, didn't eat anything during lunch, and I ran into him and... I saw pain in his eyes."

I could hear a deep sigh through the phone. "Thanks for telling me, man. I appreciate it." Then he hung up.

It was such an odd conversation, and it wasn't how Phillip acts at all, so it kind of worried me. There's something going on with Travis that nobody other than Phillip knows about, and I shouldn't care, but I do.

I keep thinking about how he looked at me in the bathroom.

It was like he wanted to push me away, but also wanted me to push him just a but further and he would've cracked.

The elevator ding brought me out of my thoughts, the doors creaking and screeching as they stutter open.

I step out of the elevator and walk to Larry's apartment, pulling a key out of my pocket to unlock the door before walking in.

When I enter Larry's room, he's painting instead of drawing, and he peaks over from the canvas at me. "What if I was jerking it?"

"I would probably cry."

"Noted." Larry grins, going back to his painting.

"Anyways... I had a weird ass dream."

"Was I jerking it?"

"You're fucking disgusting."

"I'm just joshing ya!" Larry giggles as he glances over at me as I plop down on his bed. "Tell me all about it. I'm all ears!"

"Do you know anyone who has a white carpet and a two story house?" I ask instead, completely changing the subject.

Larry raises a brow, confused at the total subject change. Then he thinks for a moment, which I could tell he was actually thinking because his brows furrow slightly before he nods.

"Yeah uhm..."