Can't take my mind off you ( Salvis )

• 1993 • ~ Chapter 1

Travis's eyelids fluttered open, and he let out a sleepy groan.

Sleeping had never been an easy task for him. He hadn't had a good seven-hours sleep in a week, or longer— his sore, watering eyes were proof of that , but he was starting to get used to it, the exhaustion.

He sat up, letting his blanket fall down his shoulders. He flinched as he went to rub his face, remembering his right eye's unfortunate conditions, and let his hands fall in his lap.

Unlike anyone would expect from a guy his age, his room looked like a blank canvas. To keep himself company, he had only a family picture above his head and a small, wooden cross on the opposite side of the room. The overall empty walls had been repainted a few days prior, so that they could be white, free of any impurities, just like his father wanted.

Travis brought his hands up, pressing them together as he closed his eyes. He forced a smile, then finally looked up.

"Dear Lord, I don't know who or what will cross my path today. But I do know that You are my rock and my fortress." He whispered,

"You are my shield and my strong tower. Help me to anchor myself to You today. Teach me how to stand strong in You and choose only Your way today." His initial smile fell upon hearing his own words, but he shook his head.

"Help me walk by Your truth and not my feelings." He shut his eyes closed again and took a deep breath, trying to get rid of the familiar sense of sorrow slowly growing in his chest.

"Help me embrace anything that comes my way as an opportunity to see You at work and as an opportunity to point others at You. Amen."

And with that, he stood. Aware of the unpleasant feeling still lingering in his chest, he kept breathing steadily, hoping it would calm him down. It did, eventually, and proceeded to walk out of his bedroom.

He made his way to the bathroom and closed the door once he got inside. He frowned, shuddering as soon as he saw his reflection in the mirror above the sink.

He had hoped for the bruises not to be as visible this time, but the Lord obviously had other plans for him.

'Whoever suffers in the body is done with sin' was what his father would often tell him, so he would accept it.

His eye was swollen and the skin around his eye socket had darkened, making him wish he some concealer to cover it up.
But it was going to be a cold day in Hell before his father allowed any kind of makeup in his house, because 'men wearing makeup are an abomination'.

Then again, he would not have needed makeup in the first place if it wasn't for him.

He shrugged the thought off, then proceeded to splash some cold water on his face and walk back towards his room.

He stared at the few clothes hanging neatly in his wardrobe and decided to wear a purple shirt with long sleeves, then his usual green shorts. He was aware that his purple shirt looked way too feminine for him, but he would let it slide.