I Wish You'd Just Shut Up Already (completed)

Ash Trays

(Travis's place) --Possible TW (abuse)--

Travis stood at his doorstep silently, almost afraid to open the front door. His mom's car wasn't in the lot, meaning she was probably out with her friends or grocery shopping, meaning that it would just be him alone with his dad. No one there to protect him if he needed it.

He blonde boy sighed, putting his hand on the door knob and gently turning it to the side, and with a *click* the door swung open with a quiet *creak*.

The house was quiet, it normally was when he first got home. He remembered when he was younger, he would get off the bus and open the door to see his mom's smiling face to great him with freshly baked pastries, or lemonade. Maybe some small toys or chocolates.

That had become more and more rare as he got older. The memories were almost... Foggy.

Travis walked into the dimly lit house, closing the door behind him as quietly as possible. His dad was most likely asleep, and he'd like to keep it that way.

*~~~*

Travis sat on his bed, the old mattress squeaking with any slight movement made on it, as the boy let out a shallow sigh.

He hadn't been home for very long, but it seemed like eternity as he sat in the dim room, the whole house silent, leaving him there all alone in his own horrid thoughts...

Not long after, Travis could hear his Mother's car pull up in the driveway, a small smile pressed apon the boys face, knowing his loving and caring mother was finally home...

He gently lifted himself onto his feet, brushing off his denim shorts and made his way out of his room, and down the stairs into the living room. The room decorated in crosses and pictures of bible descriptions. Some family pictures here and there.

Travis held onto the banister of the stairs, watching the front door, impatiently waiting for it to open, to see his frail mom have a tired smiled on her face, he back hunched as she held a plastic bag in her right hand.

"Hi Trav... How was school?", The smile on her face obviously forces. And Travis could see bruises on her arms and legs and a cut on her lip that he hadn't seen just earlier that day.

"... It was good, mom-", Travis felt a lump form in his throat as he walked over to her, closing the door for his poor mother, who was obviously tired and had a very... Stressful day.

The woman raised her dark hand, placing it onto the boys blonde head of hair, petting him gently before placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"Did you make any friends today?", She perked up, walking over into the kitchen, her son following closely behind her.

"... Not today...", Travis sighed.

"It's okay dear. We always have tomorrow!", The smile on her face seemed genuine this time. Like it always was.

Almost every day since Travis started fifth grade she had asked that very same question, and always got the very same answer. "No"....

The woman reached her hand into the bag, pulling out two, orange prescription bottles, setting them on the kitchen counter with a sigh, and clumping the empty plastic bag together in a ball.

"Is your father still asleep?", She rubbed her eyes sleepily, staring at Travis.

"Yeah... I think so", Travis looked at the ground. And after a few seconds his mother lifted his head up, looking at him before gently grazing the under of his black eye.

"Is it still sore?-", She brushed his hair out of his face, to get a better look at him.

"No, it's fine...", Travis shook his head, forcing himself out of his mother's grasp.

".... I'll start dinner, go get washed up and go wake your father when you're finished... I'm making your favorite tonight!"