Denial (Salvis)

Rhymes and Riddles (pt 2) {25}

A/n

This was originally one big post (combined with the previous chapter) but its was 2.4k words long and I was advised to split it up. On the previous chapter, a lot of people were sharing their experiences with self harm, but showing it in a positive light. I am all for people talking about their lives and seeking help, but would like to remind people to not speak of self harm as a good thing. If you are struggling mentally, I urge you to seek professional help. It can be a very good thing to talk to your friends both in person, and online, but they will not be able to effectively help you with your problems. If anyone needs to vent or just talk, you can private message me on here and I'll be there to listen. Take care of yourselves, guys. <3

        "Is there something I can help you with?" His cold, minacious voice was familiar. Sal looked up into the man's face, his piercing green eyes drilled holes through his prosthetic, seeming to tear him apart with a simple stare. The abnormal calm of his mien rendered Sal speechless, sitting the Ministers feet helplessly, on the cold, stone Church floor. Kenneth pulled one of his arms from behind his back, extending it towards Sal in what was supposed to be a friendly motion. Sal warily took his hand as Kenneth helped to pull him back to his feet.

"Is there something I can help you with?" He repeated, the Minister's tone stayed the same even, chilling voice as always.

Sal regained control of his voice, and anxiously explained, "No, no, I'm okay! I'm just waiting for Travis, uhm, I'm helping him with math."

"Ah, that's right. Travis speaks of you very fondly. Sal, right?" Kenneth nodded his head as he recalled who the blue-haired boy was.

"Yeah, that's me!"

"It truly is such a shame. The boy can hardly make any friends, rather pitiful, isn't it?" He was referring to Travis, leaving Sal dumbfounded. How could someone so bluntly shit-talk their own son, and then look for approval?

"I-uh," Sal spluttered, unable to formulate a viable rebuttal, "I think Travis is trying really hard."

"That wasn't the question, now, was it?" Kenneth called him out for blatantly avoiding the question. Sal stayed quiet, pondering his possible replies. He didn't want to insult Travis and his gradual improvement, but he also couldn't directly disagree with the menacing man in front of him. Kenneth was easily over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and an eerie aura.

He seemed to take the hint after a few seconds of awkward silence, "I heard you moved here from New Jersey?"

"Yep!" Sal breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"Do you like it in Nockfell?"

"Yeah, I have a lot better friends here. It's also been a lot easier on Dad, he likes it here too." Sal was glad to answer any questions as long as it meant that they wouldn't silently stare at each other for almost a minute again.

"Yes, many people prefer city life, I could never be one of them. That's a very interesting mask you have there." Kenneth paused before saying, 'mask', almost as if he choked on his words.

"Thank you!" Sal felt the tension rising again, making him bite his tongue and not correct him about his prosthetic.

"Why do you wear that thing? Seems a bit uncomfortable, no?" Kenneth's prying was growing increasingly suspicious.

"I'd rather not talk about that."

"Oh, don't get sensitive. I'm just trying to get to know who my son's spending all his time with." He was getting visibly irritated.

Not wanting to cause Travis any harm once he got home, Sal gave in, "I was attacked by a dog when I was younger."

Kenneth's eyes widened in a mixture of understanding and fear, before quickly shifting back to the cold, hard, emotionless gaze, "I see. I'm very sorry to hear that, may I ask how old you were? Shouldn't the scars have begun to fade away by now?" It was obvious that the phrasing of the question wasn't related to the answer he yearned for.