Chapter 2

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⚠️ WARNING - physical abuse ⚠️

*3rd person pov*

Travis stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. He examined the bruise on his face, wondering how it had puffed up so fast. He sighed, remembering how he'd gotten the wound.

Travis was coming down the stairs with his backpack, trying to escape his father. He'd woken up extremely early (5 am to be exact) to try and get out before his dad even woke up. However, Mr. Phelps must've heard the alarm go off, because he was waiting at the foot of the stairs, fists clenched.

"H-Hey, dad." Travis stuttered, anxiety rising in him. Mr. Phelps simply glared at his son grimly. He took two quick steps to the stairs before he ran up them, heading straight for Trav. The blond boy screamed and tried to get away, but it was no use. Mr. Phelps grabbed him by the ankle and pulled him to the ground, pinning him with his heavy weight. He began swinging at Travis.

The young boy tried to shield his face with his arms, but those were pinned under his dad's knees. Mr. Phelps landed a particularly painful hit on Travis's eye, and he immediately knew it was going to bruise. Once he was done, Mr. Phelps stood and glared down at his son.

"Fag."

Travis snapped back to reality and realized he'd been crying. He quickly grabbed his stuff off the floor and made his way to a stall, locking the door behind him. He took out his journal and began to write.

Dear Journal,
I punched that Sally Face fag today. He's a useless sinner. Even so...

Travis hesitated. His dad didn't know about his journal, did he?

I can't stop thinking about him. I can't help it. He's just so different from the rest of the student body. I know he hates me. Maybe.. I could confess to him.

Trav aggressively scribbled that last part out, his face reddening. There was no way the blue boy could like him. After a few minutes of thinking, he decided to write a note out explaining how he felt and decide after he was done wether or not to give it to him.

Dear Sal,

I know we don't really know each other and you probably have your opinions of me. I thought maybe if I told you how I feel, things could be different.

The truth is, I can't stop thinking about you. I'm crazy about you. I think you're amazing! But I know these feelings are wrong. It's not the way a boy should feel. Shame swallows me whole. My father would kill me but I can't live in his shadow forever, I just...

I love you, Sally Face.

Travis aggressively scribbled that part out, too, blushing profusely. He growled in frustration and exited the stall, tossing the note carelessly at the trash. He went back to his stall and sat back down. He tried to keep a straight face, but he couldn't. Tears began streaming down his face. Why? Why did he have to love Sally Face? There was no way the blue boy could ever forgive him for what he'd done. He began sobbing, squeezing the edges of his purple sweater. His bruise ached. Why couldn't he just be normal?

Suddenly, the bathroom door opened. Travis gasped and held his breath, various sobs escaping here and there. Footsteps came closer and closer, and eventually stopped in front of his stall.

"Hello? Is somebody there?"

Word count- 577

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