Love is Painful

Forgive Me, for I Have Sinned

TW!- child abuse, suicidal thoughts, and homophobic slurs

Travis's POV
After eating breakfast with Sal, I start heading home. For once in my life, I am happy.

I skip up the driveway and onto the porch. I roll my eyes and sigh heavily, knowing that my happiness will fade as soon as I step through the doorway.

As I turn the door handle, I hear nothing. It is odd, normally Father would be screaming his head off at Mother or something. But I hear nothing but the bitter sound of silence.

I enter the hall and quietly shut the door behind me.

"Hello, is anyone here?" I ask, trembling. I walk into the living room and I see Father. His arms are crossed, and in one of his hands is...

My journal.

"I've been waiting for you, Son," he says solemnly in a low voice.

My heart plops into my stomach, racing quickly. My head spins. I feel the hot sting of tears developing in my eyes. I feel paralyzed.

"Come here, Travis," he says, still sounding calm. I try to move my feet but I feel fixed in place. I can not move. My knees shake violently. "I- I, uh, I can't m- move," I tremble, severe anxiety in my voice.

"I said get the fuck over here now, faggot!" Father booms, slamming his hand on the coffee table and shaking the room. I make my way over to him, my whole entire body spinning. I feel like I could faint any minute.

I take a seat on the couch and Father sits next to me. He shoves my journal at me and opens it to a certain page. "Explain this to me," he roars, slamming his finger against the paper and pointing at a specific entry I wrote.

I freeze, my head spinning, tears running down my face. It is a note I wrote about Sal:

My feelings are all wrong. I love someone deeply. I want them so bad. I need them in my life. But I shouldn't have them. Sal Fisher. The beautiful, brilliant boy in my Algebra class. He's perfect in every way. I want him to love me back so desperately. But I know if we ever got together, Father would kill me. I can't have him. If Father knew my disgusting, horrible feelings for him, I would never leave the house again. I'm a disappointment. I don't matter. My feelings are wrong. Yet they feel almost right.

I choke on my spit, tears streaming down my face.

Father found out about Sal.

"That boy," Father says, "is he the one that you stayed the night with?" I shake, not knowing how to answer. If I lie, I'll get smacked. If I tell the truth, I could die. "Y-y-yes, Father," I stutter, clenching my eyes shut tightly.

I feel the deep, unbearable pain of knuckles against my chin as Father punches me, knocking me down to the floor. I lie on the ground, struggling to breathe. Father towers over me, glaring daggers. "Father, please, I-" I'm interrupted by a harsh smack against my cheek. "Father?!" he shouts, raising his hand above me again and causing me to hold up my arms in defence. "I am not your father! I will not be the father to a faggot! You're a sinner, Travis. You are not my son!" He proceedes to plunge his fist into my eye and leave a horrible black bruise. I try to scream, but Father - if I can even still call him that - covers my mouth with his palm. "You stupid boy," he whispers. "When will you learn? You're going to hell Travis! Hell! God doesn't love you. You're a disappointment. You don't matter. You're better off dead for all I care!"

Tears burn my face and my eyes swell shut. "I didn't choose this. I never would choose to be a sinner," I murmur, choking back tears. "Bullshit!" Father screams, punching me in the gut. He then storms off to his room and slams the door.

I struggle to my feet, clenching my side in pain. I limp across the room and up the stairs, wincing as I take each step. I shut and lock my door behind me. I fall to the ground sobbing. Father was right. I am a disappointment. I do not matter. My life does not matter.

I would be better off dead.