It All Started With A Note: A Sally Face FanFiction

{ The Introduction of Travis Phelps }

{ Travis's Perspective }

My name is Travis Phelps. I live in a smaller town called Nockfell with my dad Kenneth. He runs a church just down the street from our house, called the Phelps Ministries. According to the kids at my school, it's weird compared to your everyday St. Theresa's Catholic Church! But i guess this is what i've grown to know

recently i haven't felt myself at all, and i've been thinking... about this guy from my school? Sally... Well Sal Fisher. This dumb, blue haired, moronic faggot that i have to see everyday... i've been bullying his gay ass since he got here. From casual shit talking to trying to rip that queer ass mask off his face. i haven't really given this kid a break...

i always thought it was just cause he was so different from everyone else... but for so long i've always found that i look for him in the hallways... i wonder about him... he's always on my mind... and i'm not some fucking weirdo stalker that gets a hard on for beating up queers... but rather... i think i am the queer.

no... i can't be right?... my dreams of kissing him are just nightmares, my dreams of loving him, feeling his touch, they mean nothing. they never will mean anything... fuck, i'm so screwed.

my alarm beeps, jolting my body awake in a cold sweat. another nightmare...so
i walk out of my room. my hair scruffy, my voice hoarse. I go to my bathroom, looking in the mirror... fuck..my roots.. dark as the circles under my eyes.. or that might be a bruise. i'll tell father to get me some new bleach

i look at my arms, as well as the rest of my body. each scar scratch and scab having its own story. some stories are just dumber than others. like the x-acto cuts from earlier last summer... those nights felt like god had left me to rot

I wish I could leave this place, but then again, with my thoughts recently I wouldn't be going to heaven like I've always wished. rather than rotting away in my room like i have been for weeks, i would be roasting with hades. my dad has repeated that name probably 30 times this week

I walk out to my kitchen, I see a piece of burnt toast and spoiled butter on the table...yeahhh i'm gonna pass on the rotten food. i would rather eat my own stomach then even be in the same room as this plate

As I'm walking out of the kitchen, I hear my fathers voice.

"Travis, eat your breakfast" his words loosely stitched together, and slurred. he's been drinking hasn't he...I stop in my tracks...surely he isn't going to make me eat that is he???

"I'm sorry, father?" I say turning around looking him dead in the eye
"you heard me. eat it."
i look down to the plate, almost gagging on sight.
"...I'm sorry, but i think it's... literally rotten. and mouldy. He won't make me eat it...no way...

He grabs me by the collar of my shirt and then shoved me into the seat by the kitchen table

"EVERY DAMN DAY!!!! you test my damn limits every day, AREN'T YOU GRATEFUL WE HAVE FOOD?!" he said
"I'm sorry!!! yes sir i'm very grateful i just don't wanna eat rotten gross food-"

he slammed his fist down on the table
"THEN EAT IT." he screams
"I DON'T WANT TO!!"
I yell back...shit I shouldn't have raised my voice..

He throws me to the floor, I sit up, and back up from him.
He grabs the belt off his hips and whips it against the floor, making me flinch

He slashes me across the face with it, the metal from it cutting my cheek.
"GAHH- F-FATHER PLEASE I-"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP TRAVIS, YOU WANNA TALK BACK TO ME?! YELL AT ME OF ALL THINGS, YOU'LL FUCKIN' GET IT" he screams at me.