Love is Painful

Fresh Air and Contemplation

Travis's POV
At last, Saturday. A day where I don't have to embarrass myself in front of Sal. A day where I won't lash out in anger and abuse him. A day where I can be myself.

"Travis Phelps, get the hell downstairs and eat your breakfast!" Father hollers angrily from the floor below me. Shit. I forgot about my awful home life.

I slither out of bed groaning with pain and wriggle into a clean pair of grey jeans. I slip a T-shirt over my head and adjust it to flatter my body. Not a purple shirt this time, I'd like to avoid Father calling me a fag and beating me. No, this time it's a baby blue shirt. Blue like the hair of... Sal.

Well shit. I try to forget about my stupid crush for one day, and now this happens. I can't go one day without thinking about him. The way his hair bounces as he walks. The way his eyes shimmer as he gets excited. His handwriting, so unique and delicate. The way his eyes wrinkle when he laughs. The way he looks in the sunlight. He's so beautiful.

But he'll never love me back, and Father will never aprove.

I push my door open and hurry down the stairs. "Travis, don't run on the stairs! If you break them, you're paying!" Father shouts from the kitchen. Is anything good enough for him?

I saunter into the kitchen near the breakfast nook and spot Mother leaning over the stove pulling a tray of biscuits out and setting them on the cooling rack. When she turns around, I notice her face. Her usual beautiful chocolate brown completion is freckled with purple bruises. Her wrists are bruised as well. Father certainly beat her last night. The poor woman. The things that she puts up with in this household. Father treats he like an object and doesn't truly care about her. Hell, I doubt he even loves her.

Mother gives me a melancholy smile and turns back around, a sliver of grief expanding across her face. I take a seat at the breakfast table and Mother sets a plate of biscuits and steaming scrambled eggs in front of me. She plops the milk jug onto the table and slides a glass over towards me.

As I poor my milk, I contemplate the events of yesterday in the bathroom with Sal. His eyes had a look of empathy. How I so deeply wanted to kiss his lips, if I even knew what they looked like. In fact, I have never seen his real face. He always hides it with that stupid mask. I don't know why he wears it. Maybe he's insecure? I bet his face is angelic.

Like heaven on earth.

I finish scarfing up my breakfast and toss my plate in the sink, squirting blue dish soap on it and scrubbing to remove the flakes of biscuit.

I need some time alone. Away from Father at least. "Mother?" I ask quietly, as to not let Father hear. "Yeah, sweety?" Mother turns her face towards me, giving me a sad smile. I shuffle my feet. "I was wondering if I could go on a walk later today after supper? I need some time alone, and I just-" I was interrupted by a swift kiss on my forehead. Mother. "Sure, sweety. Just be home before dark."
* * * * *
After a delicious supper of steamed carrots and pot roast, I step out the door, leaving my worries behind. I skip down the driveway and begin walking at a slow pace to Lord knows where. I just need some time away from Father and his abuse. I need time to be alone with my thoughts.

My stupid, disgusting, wrong thoughts and feelings.

Even though they are wrong, I did not choose this. I would die before I would choose to have feelings for a boy. I just can not help it. He is way prettier than any girl I have ever seen.

As wrong as it is, it almost feels...

Right.