Sin creeps in (Salvis) (discontinued)

3

Travis's pov:

"It's your night to lead us, son." Father sat at the head of the table, hands clutched around a rosary. I twirled my own in my hands, moving to the 1st bead and bowing my head.

"Glory be to the father son and Holy Ghost." I started.

"As it was in the beginning is now and ever shall be, world without end. Amen." Father and I spoke together for the second half.

I tried desperately keep my mind on the rosary as we continued, but I couldn't stop thinking about sal. I knew it was stupid to let my mind drift during prayer, but his offer just kept bouncing against the wall of my skull. As tempting as his ofer was, I wasn't going to accept his pity. I'm not weak, I can handle my own shit. Besides, the lord calls us to honor thy father and mother, no matter how pointless it seems in the moment. Thats what dad tells me, anyway.

After around 30 minutes, we were finally done with the last mystery. Not that I was relieved to be done with prayer, it was just the sooner I could eat and go to my room the better. I was starving and around my father, it felt like one wrong breath could lead to another bruise.

"Hail, Holy Queen, Mother of mercy, our life, our sweetness, and our hope. To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve, to thee do we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears." I finished. Father was silent.

Shit.

What had I done wrong?

"Eleven." Father said, teeth gritted.

Fuck.

"Eleven Hail Marys on the last mystery. You've been speaking this prayer sense you were how old and you can't even count to ten?"
He stood from his seat. My entire body tightened. I thought my rosary might burst in my hands from how hard I was squeezing it.

"I'm sorry, da-"

He put a hand on my shoulder, his grip so tight his knuckles were white., right on top of another bruise. I took in a sharp breath.

"For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it."

I knew what was expected of me.

"Hebrews 12:11." I said, shakily. Lord in heaven, I hated that fucking verse.

The grip on my shoulder turned into a dull pain as I was throw to the ground. My hands stung as they made contact with the hardwood.

"Dad please." I pleaded, backing myself against the far wall of the dinning room. He had the same look in his eye that I had seen earlier, only this time, it was all too real.

"Blows that wound cleanse away evil; strokes make clean the innermost parts."

"Dad-"

"Verse."

"Please dad, don't do this. I can be better. I swear I'll be better."

"VERSE." He roared. I flinched, I knew he didn't like repeating himself. This was gonna suck.

"Proverbs 20:30. But dad-"

His shoe made contact with my ribs. A hissing sound escaped my mouth. Another blow came to my leg, yielding a similar response. I cowered there with my back against the wall, kick after kick making contact with my body. I knew I was crying but I hoped dad couldn't see. I kept my head down with my arms covering it.

Just then, a particularly hard hit made contact right over another bruise.

"Fuck!" I yelled before I could stop myself.

The blows stopped. It was terrifying.

No no no no no no. How could I be so stupid?!

"No! I'm sorry I didn't mean to. I'm sorry dad please forgive me, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I was frantic. Still nothing came. Cautiously, I removed my arms from my face so I could look up. I couldn't stand not seeing his expresión any longer.

That was a mistake.

A knee was cracked against my face, slamming my head against the wall behind me. My vision went white. When it was back dad was holding me to the wall by my hair, landing punch after punch to my face. It took me a moment to realize that the inhuman noises that came with ever hit were coming from me. I felt warm dripping from my mouth, along with something hard in it. I hoped to god that wasn't a tooth.

The only thing that broke the silence in the room were the huffs from my father and tortured sounds escaping my lips. I don't think people realize how un-cinematic things like this are. There's no music, no creative camera movements, no comfort of knowing that it's just a screen and after the movies over and your done with your popcorn you can go home. It's just a father landing blow after blow on his 16 year old son, as sounds that no one should ever make escape the kid's mouth. There's no audience to this scene. No theatergoer would be able to stomach it.

A heavy fist made contact with my nose. I knew he'd broken it again. I felt the cool sting from the brass ring on my fathers finger as I spit more blood unto the floor. The ring with the Lord's Prayer engraved on the inside. I could really use him right now, but God had attendance to ignore my prayers at times like this.

I didn't feel like it would ever end. Hit after hit came. I couldn't even think it hurt so bad.

Suddenly staying with sal didn't seem as stupid.