Work Text:
Trigger warnings!!!!!
>Child Abuse
>Self-Deprecating Language
>Self-Harm
>Blood, Scars, Bruises, and Other Slight Gore
The time was 3:30 pm. Travis had just finished another week of school, he sighed. He had to walk home today as punishment because he couldn't keep his dinner down yesterday evening. Making his way up the steps to his house, he opened the door. It was unlocked as always, seeing as nobody ever locks doors in Nockfell unless they have something to hide. Careful not to make a sound, the tall blonde boy entered his "home". he hung his coat and took off his shoes, as per usual, but paused when he heard pounding footsteps behind him.
Travis shivered, his father behind him making his way towards him with long strides. The boy slowly turned his body to face Kenneth
"Travis, I was notified that you failed your math test today." he snidely broke the silence.
"Yes sir. I can assure you, though, that I tried my-" he was cut off before finishing his excuse with a sudden punch to his left cheek.
As he crashed to the ground Kenneth stood over him.
"You are a useless child. You will never be useful to anyone, and you will never be loved" kicks were thrown into his ribs as insults were practically forced down his throat; Travis whined despite his unwillingness, knowing it would just make his punishment far worse.
"I am ashamed to have a s-" Kenneth's words lagged as he took a quick breath, "a boy like you."
"Wow, he can't even say the word son without being disgusted at himself." Travis thought, his brain beginning to agree with his father.
Kenneth jerked Travis up by the collar of his purple sweater.
"If you fail another test, you will never see the light of day again, boy" The blonde man whispered with a stern but hushed tone.
Travis knew better than to reply. He simply nodded and stood up silently. He tiptoed upstairs to his room, grasping his ribs tightly. The pain was unbearable.
When he finally made it through the seemingly short journey, only made longer by his probably broken ribs and copious amounts of other injuries such as bruises, fractures, and cuts, he slumped onto the floor next to his bed, leaning his head on his bedside table. It was handcrafted thoughtfully from antique mahogany by his mother before she passed away. He scratched at his arms under the draped sleeves of his sweater.
"Why do these things always happen to me? I have done all I possibly can to get to Heaven, so why am i being tortured like this? It's not fair..." Travis whisper-sobbed in the eerie comfort of his bedroom.
His small lisp that he put in much effort to hide was fully out in the open. Travis was undone; broken. He had been bent and twisted into whatever shape God, his father, or anyone other than himself wanted him to be. Now, though, having no care about what happened to him, he sobbed on and on for about two hours, not caring if anyone saw. That was, until he was yanked back into reality by those same pounding footsteps coming up the staircase.
Travis quickly wiped his tears, before acting like he was tidying his bed, like he always does before his shower time at 6:30. His breathing was still off, but he hoped his father wouldn't notice.
The door slowly creaked open.
"Travis. I spoke to your mathematics teacher just now. I demanded that you be put with a tutor."
"Oh no," Travis thought, "Even if I try my best, I can't do anything right. I'll die of embarrassment if anyone spreads that around..."
"She let your other teachers know, and an agreement was made; during your extra math period you will be tutored." Kenneth spoke sharply.
Travis stuttered, "Uh-uhm, did she tell you who the tutor is?" The boy was silently hoping that whoever it was, they wouldn't really care and would just give him answers.
"A nice young man by the name of Todd Morrison. I don't think he comes to our church service, but I'm sure you could help me with that" Kenneth answered, adding a drop of venom to each word. A fake smile spread across his face as he spoke.
Travis went silent and still for a moment.
"Todd Morrison?" he thought, "He's gay though, I can't be around a fag like him too much..."
His train of thought ended as he remembered his father was waiting for a response. He was surely becoming more angry as time passed.
"Yes sir, I will save one of the pamphlets for him and his family." Travis bowed his head "Thank you father."
Kenneth said nothing, but gave a slight nod along with a hum and retreated back downstairs to his bedroom.
Travis sighed before undressing and stepping into the peculiarly white bathroom. he opened the shower curtain and turned on the water, preparing for the water to burn his open wounds once more. He wasn't ready, he never was, but he carefully stepped into the shower, regardless of his weariness.
The hot water burnt his tattered flesh and it pained him just to sit there; dormant. He wanted to go to sleep forever... Maybe he was dying. Travis began to lean against the wall, black splotched his vision. Clutching his sides, he tried to stand, but a swatch of red on the wall appeared when he glanced over. The red dripped and dripped...the water is...red?
He braced his arms on the sides of the tub and slowly lowered himself down into the now bloodied bath.
He was out cold.
Travis's eyes snapped open wide. He didn't know what time it was, the water had run cold, and the tub was now stained a light red. "What happened?.." Travis questioned himself in a quiet, broken voice. He raised his pruned fingers and turned off the water. He was freezing..Travis grabbed a towel, wrapping himself in it tightly.
He sat there shakily for a little while, just thinking...
The time was 7:10 pm, he knew dinner had to be done by 8, but he just couldn't stop staring at his own skinny, beat up body. He could barely see his true skin, purples, yellows, greens, and blues were shadowing him like a tall tree. Its leaves creating holes where the sun could poke through. He wondered what he had done in a past life to deserve this kind of punishment. He has been the perfect son; done everything that he was asked, yet he still amounted to nothing.
Travis knew that if he didn't want those small bits of his true skin to be covered in bruises and cuts too that he had to get dinner on the stove, now. He silently rushed down the stairs and started some frozen stir-fry in a pan. As he was putting in the sauce, he heard his father nearing the staircase. Travis was terrified, but he tried to keep a calm demeanor as he continued working to mix the sauce into the stir-fry.
"Travis."
"Shit."