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Chapter Text

“Father/God”

Another bruise decorated his face, staining his tan skin with dark red and purple making his eye sting and tears stream down his face. Sure, he fought a lot and those bruises barely hurt but this was different. The scars and bruises that were inflicted by his father always stung and burned for weeks, months even. They were a reminder of his unholiness, of his sins, of all of the things that were wrong with him. He knew that those things had to be done though, he knew that he deserved all the pain because he needed to pay for all his wrong doings. So when his father would hold back he'd take the punishment into his own hands. It was something his father had suggested too, as a way to repent. He didn't think it was working but over time the pain made him smile, seeing the crimson red spill out from the wounds was like serotonin for him and it brought him joy. So he covered his wrists in bandages and took the beatings as a way of looking for forgiveness, thinking that maybe one day God will love him too.

But he didn't. He never came for him, never accepted him, never gave him a hand, never even batted an eye. The poor boy went through all that abuse for nothing. All the blood he lost was useless and all the tears he shed were too. He was helpless and stuck in a constant loop of pain and suffering and even though he still prayed for God to come he knew he wouldn't. He wasn't even sure he believed in God anymore. Of course he could never actually say that, but some part of him knew it was true. What God would just stand back and watch all this happen? At this point he knew that God, nor his father, were someone to believe in. Maybe he was just unlovable, or maybe they were unable to feel love.

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Mrs. Packerton/Mrs. Sanderson

“Sal told me about the bologna, I can't believe it.. My father was a friend of Msr. Packertons, he bought food from her. I feel sick, I haven't stopped throwing up since he told me.” The note read, Travis stained the paper with tears as he wrote, I mean what more can you do after finding out you were eating human meat basically your entire life. The bitter taste of vomit lingered in his mouth as he cried. What the fuck is he supposed to do now? In the past he would go to Mrs. Sanderson for comfort, but now he couldn't even do that.

She was like his mother and now she was dead, a fucking corpse rotting in a casket in that old beaten up cemetery. There was no one to go to when his father kicked him out, no one to care for his wounds but himself. He hated himself for not being there that day, he was supposed to, but his father didn't let him go, saying she was turning him away from God, even though she was a christian woman. He didn't know who killed her until it hit the news, “Charley Mansfield” the big red letters read, but he didn't recognise the face, he had his doubts about the murder, but who was he to say, he only saw the man once or twice, maybe he didn't get a proper look. But once he talked to Sal he knew it hadn't been him, he was terrified, after finding out about the cult, he wasn't sure who he could trust anymore, did his father know? Was he the one who killed her? He needed to know but the answer terrified him, so he din´t dig deeper and kept suffering.

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These thoughts/Maybe satan himself

His head was filled with regret. He wasn't sure why he was this way, why his eyes lingered on the blue haired boy longer than on others, why he'd cry himself to sleep, why he prayed for forgiveness from someone who was supposed to love him either way. He didn't know. All he knew was that he kept thinking. About God, Sal, Larry and his mother, about the scars, the bruises and the cuts. He couldn't stop. The thought consumed him, eating him alive. It was something he'd never escape.

“At times I think he might be Satan himself, disguised as a human to take me away.

Of course I know it's stupid, how could Satan be so beautiful?

How could Satan hug me so tightly and wish away my pain, how could the devil understand? And even though I know all this, at times I think he might be Satan himself.”

Sals quiet whispers made him live a little longer and yet they took so much away from him, he fell for a boy, made himself a sinner. 

But Sal was too sweet to ignore, he was like candy, you could never get enough, at times he thought he was the devil, at least that's what his father said, but now? 

Now he understood, Sal was no devil, he was an angel sent from heaven, a God himself. Travis was the sinful one, a fallen angel you could say. 

All along the devil was inside him.

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Sal Fisher

He wanted the thoughts to go away, they were eating him alive, but he knew they wouldn't leave. Some part of him knew that this was how he was born, that it was what wasn't bad for him, it was fate, God's plan even. He didn't like the idea of course, but what could he do? He had suffered for years so why couldn't he feel a bit of happiness for once? So he started talking to the boy, hanging out with him after school, excusing it as bible study or a group project. He started spending the night at Sal's house when his dad kicked him out, letting him bandage his wounds, letting him hug him when he cried, he started to embrace the feelings that made him feel insane. And then one night, while Sal was putting disinfection onto his back he turned around and kissed him. And God was it magical, it felt so right..

They started dating, holding hands and cuddling. Travis would be lying if he said he wasn't happy, but he also knew he couldn't stay, even if Sal begged him to. He knew what had to be done.

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Poetry

Poetry was what helped him escape, it was a world he could hide in whenever the real one got too hard. He loved the rhymes, the metaphors, everything. He could pick up a pencil and express all that he had to hide. All the pain, rage and love could come out once he had his notebook, all of it could leave the prison of his mind. It was what saved him when he felt like the reality of his situation would kill him, it was what made him forget all the pain the day had brought, it was the warm blanket hugging his body after being left out in the rain by his father. It was his safe space.

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Madeleine

Madeleine wasn't the best big sister, she still believed some of the lies their father told them, still let him take his anger out on them, but she tried. She held him closely as he wept, she gave him their mothers sweater after she “left”, she treated Mary's wounds and helped him treat his, she was a good person. It was so hard to leave her, but he knew she could do it, she was strong, stronger than he ever was. She'd move on, live her life the way she wanted, he knew she would. She'd escape the hell the three of them called home. And maybe, one day, she'd find the letter he wrote her, neatly placed under her bed.

“Dear Mads,

I hope you know how sorry I am. Please take care of Mary, she loves you more than anything. If you can, get out of here. If anyone can make it, it's you.

I love you, you were the best big sister anyone could ask for.

-Travis”

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Mary

“Dear Mary,

You are the sweetest little girl I know. I'm sorry I had to leave, but I didn't have a choice. Listen to Mads, she will take care of you. You can take anything you want from my room, and if you look under my bed there are two new dolls. I bought them for you!! Be careful and always smile, your smile is the cutest. If Mads is sad, take care of her for me, okay? I know you can do it:) I will see you again buddy.

I love you so much,

-Travis”

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Mom

He knew she was dead, he's known for quite some time now, but it still felt like betraying, taking his life and leaving his sisters alone at the hands of his father. At the same time he was desperate and didn't know what else to do, so he decided to join her. Now he could be with her, finally at peace.