Rooftop /SALVIS / TWW

Part 7

The walls of my room used to be a pure white color, my dad said it was to represent purity. After all the beatings I have taken in here, the walls are smeared with dried blood. Barely any white left, Kenneth says for every bit of white gone I become less pure. That it's my own fault. On weekends like this I'm not allowed to leave the house, on Sundays it makes sense because I'm at church. On Saturdays I'm left in my room hoping my dad doesn't drink enough to beat the shit out of me. Even though he "punished" me yesterday, I can hear him downing bottles of beer. He never seemed to notice whenever I took them. In fact I am surprised he doesn't know about the roof.

All day I have been laying on my mattress, my shirt is torn with holes from different things my dad has hit me with. It's the only sweater I own and it's the middle of winter so I can't wear anything else. I feel the breeze from outside. Despite my window still being closed from the night before the cool air manages to seep in through the walls.

I hear Kenneth angrily slam a bottle on the floor below, that's when I can tell he drank to much. I pull my sweater off in order to prevent more holes in the fabric. My door is wide open so I watch my dad emerge from the stairwell stomping towards me.

"You stupid useless boy." he drunkenly states holding onto the doorframe of my bedroom.

I remember all the fear that I experience around him, it never gets better. My blood runs cold, my face falls and it's almost as if im stuck in my position. These feelings flood over me yet again as my father slowly approaches me, bottle in hand. Yet again i'm backed into the corner of my room. My palms are to the blood stained wall as I try to gather enough courage to take this.

TIMESKIP

He leaves me in that corner, glass shards on the floor around me. There are chunks of the substance still in my skin, I can feel them stabbing at me. I can feel the warm feeling of blood traveling down parts of my body, I can feel the pounding in my head. I use the wall to stand as I walk towards the window. Sal is supposed to meet me again, I assumed it would be at this time, though I wasn't thinking of him.

Once I get on the roof I check to make sure I have enough of Kenneth's beer to make me feel better. There are about 2 and a half bottles left, which isn't a lot but with the state i'm in it should do the trick.

SALLYFACE POV:

I arrive at Travis' house later than I meant to, it's a little after midnight when I arrive. I was dealing with ghosts and Larry all day. I almost forgot to bring my backup phone. I did remember it at the last second fortunately. I get to the backyard of the church and start to climb the base of the tree, i'm not exactly fit so climbing the trunk is a struggle but I manage to get on the roof. It's still a bit of a climb to get to the concrete pad where I can see Travis sitting. I get closer and can see his wounds reopened and the concrete around him covered in vomit. Beside him are too many empty bottles to count, I race up to where he is placed and start asking questions.

"Travis, are you okay? What happened? Did he hit you again?" I ask pulling his face towards me.

His face has blood smeared on it from his forehead to his lip. Underneath his eye I can see something gleaming, it looks like a shard of glass.

"Heyy Sal.? Im goood." he says his words melding into each other. I look from the empty bottles to him and quickly understand that he is in fact drunk. He was drunk enough to vomit up whatever he had to eat last, which I doubt was today.

I pull out a rag from my pocket that I brought just in case this did happen. When I take the cloth out the extra phone falls too. I push it towards Travis as I wipe the blood, glass, and vomit from his face.

He shifts his body to be closer to me before laying his head down on my lap. I can feel my face warm through my prosthetic as I move everything that was on my legs to the ground around us.

"Is there any hope for this boy?" I think to myself, silently doubting my ability to help him before scolding myself.