Does God See the Way I Look at You? || A Salvis fanfiction

Chapter Three: Ghosts

Travis gripped the straps of his backpack as he neared his house. He felt himself begin to sweat more than he already was from walking. He sent a silent prayer that his father wouldn't be home.

His father definitely wasn't poor, but never acted like it. Travis got the bare minimum of necessities, and the only things he got besides that were related to god. Crosses, religious books, etcetera. Their house was almost entirely empty. It was a two story, white and modern with marble counters and such. There was hardly any furniture besides crosses, a dining table, and beds. His father had a study room, but never used it due to him being at the church more often than home. Travis's room had a nightstand, desk, lamp, and bed. Oddly enough it was the most furnished area in the household. He rarely left it.

Travis's overly-bleached hair looked like straw because Travis had decided to do it himself rather than ask his father for any sort of help. His natural dark brown hair reminded him of his mother. His father had extra bleach and hair dyeing materials due to dyeing his own hair. Travis suspected he had the same reasoning, but he wouldn't dare ask.

Travis lifted the doormat, grabbing the key underneath. He unlocked the front door, setting the key back in its hiding place before entering the home.

"Father?" He called, his voice echoing slightly in the underfurnished home.

To his relief there was no response. His father, Kenneth, usually got home around midnight, and Travis went to bed around ten. Kenneth would be sleeping when Travis woke up for school, leave for church, returned at midnight, then did it again the next day. He was gone so long he rarely bought groceries, and Travis mostly survived off of school food. When Kenneth was home, Travis had to walk on eggshells or he'd get another bruise or scar.

Quietly Travis began walking up to his room, setting his bag down beside his desk and shutting the door. He had run out of food yesterday, but had managed to grab an extra apple so he would be able to manage until breakfast tomorrow at school.

He began to look over the syllabuses from his teachers before writing his signature. He stared down at the line titled 'parent's signature'. Travis forged his father's signature with a sigh. He knew even if he did find the time to ask him, Kenneth would find something to get mad at him about- and when Kenneth got angry, it never ended well. He grabbed the extra apple from his backpack, snacking on it as he skimmed over the papers.

He closed his folder, tucking the papers neatly inside after his apple was stripped down to the core. He slipped the folder inside his backpack, zipping it up. He tossed the apple core into the small metal trash can beside his desk. Travis grabbed his flip phone, setting it on his nightstand. Travis walked over to his bed, laying down. He flipped open his phone, checking to see if Kenneth had messaged him. Nothing. The only times Kenneth messaged him were reminders of church nowadays.

His only three contacts were Father, a kid who he had partnered up with in a project once- phillip was his name- and Mother.

Alice Phelps, Travis's mother, had been a quiet and reserved woman. She never said much, all she really did was cook for Kenneth and do housework. She also accompanied him to church, which used to not be as frequent. One day after they went to church, Alice never came back. Travis immediately asked Father where she was, which earned him a scar going from his lower back to shoulder blade. He was stupid enough to ask about it again once the missing posters of Alice began popping up around town, earning him yet another scar along his back. He never asked again, and to his confusion the very next day the missing posters had vanished.

Often he wondered what had befallen his mother, but there was no use in pondering in Travis's mind. He internalized what grief he had. All her belongings vanished, it was like she never existed. Travis thought for some time he was simply going crazy, that Satan had plagued his mind, but the necklace he wore proved otherwise. It was a silver colored chain with a cross, gifted by his Mother when he turned five. He frowned as he looked down at his jacket. It was a pinkish purple color with two lighter stripes on the shoulders. This too had been from his mother. She had given it to him the day before she vanished.