Denial (Salvis)

Turning a Blind Eye {6}

TW: Abuse, implied self harm

        Travis flinched as the door slammed shut behind him and his fathers cold hand gripped the collar of his shirt. He wasn't given the time to prepare himself before the back or Kenneth's hand struck him across the face, leaving behind a bright red mark. Travis lurched forwards at the unanticipated attack, gasping at the pain. He slouched forwards as the man towered over him, "Stand up straight, Travis, and act like a man for once." Travis obeyed the instructions, hoping to prevent from angering Kenneth further. Pain seared through his face again, his father's wedding band got snagged on his face. The ring had left a clean cut just below his eye, excruciatingly painful for it's deceptively small size. The only way to prevent the tears to come streaming out of his eyes was to squeeze them shut and hold his breath. He straightened his posture, just for it to be broken again by the next blow to his face. Every strike left Travis weaker than before, he was able to retain his composed appearance until his father's fist collided with his nose, the sound of cracking bone and cartilage left him in shock. Travis cried out in pain, finally allowing himself to fall back. He keeled over in pain, cradling his face in his hands. Tears seeped through the slits in his eyelids, spilling into his hands. The salt water stung the freshly opened wound under his eye. Sounds started melting together, his heartbeat, his oddly far away sobs, but one noise cut through it all.

"Don't cry, don't you dare cry. I'm doing this to help you, if you're going to act like a sinner, you'll be treated as such. Now get up, Travis."

Travis couldn't respond, he couldn't force his body to budge. He strained the muscles in his legs, begging for them to move, but nothing happened. 

"Filthy fucking-" Kenneth's sentence was disrupted by his own movement of kicking the huddled figure on the floor. Travis's position was quickly broken, his ribs throbbing. His father scoffed as he turned around, "Pathetic, you are not my son." Travis was still frozen in a heap on the hardwood, unable to move from the agony he was in. 

        The flip phone vibrated against the nightstand, there was only one person it could be. Travis grabbed the phone, trying his best to ignore the discomfort that ripped through his chest.

"Hey Travis, whatcha up to?"

He stared at the text, a smile grew on his face. Despite his dire situation the thought of Sally Face texting him made his heart beat faster. Travis's cheeks grew warm as a thought crossed his mind, Sal had specifically texted him. He could have texted anyone else, but Sal chose him over that dick, Larry. Still, this was wrong. the happiness on his face diminished as he placed the device back onto the wooden table. He couldn't do this, not with Sal, not with anyone. He was disgusting, a disappointment, a failure. Travis hesitated, before reaching his hand back to the nightstand. It lowered past the phone, opening the drawer below. His fingers grasped around a metal blade, the cold steel pressing into his fingertips.

        Walking to school the next say was worse than usual, mostly due to his injuries. Travis had placed a bandage against his broken nose, hoping it would do something. Loud conversations merged together as Travis walked to algebra, unsure how he felt about it. On one hand he would get to see Sal, on the other hand he would have to see Sal. He settled into his seat, trying to ignore the presence of the boy behind him. Mrs.Packerton began lecturing the class, as per usual, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Travis shuddered, his mind immediately going back the abuse he faced, he didn't acknowledge Sal's signal. It repeated multiple times, each time with more urgency. Shuffling could be heard from the seat behind Travis's, Sal stood up and walked past his desk, dropping a note as he walked by. He stopped at the front of the class, dropping what Travis assumed to be a finished worksheet onto the teachers desk. Travis glanced down, reading the contents of the paper.

"Hey man, what happened to your face? Are you okay?" 

His heart dropped, did he really look that bad? Though Travis still had to fight the smile from his face, Sal cared enough to ask about him, he was genuinely one of the kindest people Travis knew. He scribbled back his response before raising his hand, "Yes, Mr.Phelps?" That wasn't his name, that was his father, Travis held the sticky note in his clenched fist.

"May I use the washroom, please?"

"Go ahead, don't be long."

Travis stood and placed the note on Sal's desk nonchalantly, while exiting the room. He was headed to the washroom, but not for the intended purpose.  He had his notebook tucked beneath his arm, pencil still in hand. This was the only healthy way he could express his emotions.

        Sal read the words on the note, his nonvisible lips curling into a frown. 

"I'm fine. Leave me alone."

A/N

In case you haven't noticed, this is gonna be a pretty slow story, in the beginning at least. 

word count: 876