Peterick//More Than You Bargained For

thirteen: leather belt

Wednesday afternoon, I unlock my front door and step into the threshold. The first thing I lay my eyes on is Travis spread on the couch, watching tv.

I feel a deep growl escape me. "What are you doing here?" I ask through gritted teeth.

Travis turns his head to face me, narrowing his eyes at me. "I could ask the same for you."

"This is my home." I say forcefully, taking another step into my house and shutting the door behind me. "Now what are you doing here?" I ask again.

A voice in the back of my head warns me to be less aggressive, but I ignore it. There's no way I'm letting this pig stay in my house.

"Your mother invited me in. Show some respect, boy. You don't control me," he snarls.

My mother waltzes into the room, carrying two beers. She hands one off to Travis and keeps one for herself as she sinks into the sofa.

"You let him in?" I ask my mom. "Are you drunk?"

My mother appears to be offended. "Patrick, how could you assume such a thing?"

"You should be more respectful to your mother," Travis suggests in a soft tone.

Are you kidding me? Just ten seconds go he was near threatening me.

"You can't seriously believe his act," I accuse my mother. "Do you not remember how he let you drive home drunk last night?"

"And this morning he insisted that he come over to help take care of my hangover," she replies. "I don't see what 'act' you're accusing Travvy of."

"Yeah, and now Travvy's letting you drink more alcohol. I'm sure that's helping you feel much better," I mock.

I ignore my mother and Travis' protests and stalk up to my room, slamming the door behind me in outrage.

I'm guessing that Travis will start to live here again, as that's what happened last year when my mom and him were dating. And I'll have to go back to hiding in my room all day and night to protect myself from him. I bet the only reason that the man didn't hit me earlier is because my mom is sober and in the house. Otherwise, i'd find myself with a fat purple bruise for arguing with him like that.

I can't stop myself. I begin to cry. I feel so powerless. Tears stain my pillowcase as I curl up into a ball, squeezing my eyes as tight as I can.

Maybe if I curl up the smallest I can, I'll stop existing. Maybe that'll end the pain.

So I lay there, crying, dreading what will happen next with Travis, until my muscles relax and I fall into a deep slumber.

In the dream, Travis stands over Patrick with a leather belt in hand. "P-please, don't hurt me." Patrick's lip quivers in fear.

A twisted smile forms on Travis' lips. "What do you expect, Patrick? I'm giving you what you deserve." The man lifts his hand, preparing for a harsh blow to Patrick's body.

"Stop!"  Travis looks to his side to see Pete standing there. "He's done nothing to deserve this."

Travis lowers his hand, glaring at Pete. "You think you can tell me what to do, boy?" He laughs and raises his arm again.

As he brings down the belt, Pete suddenly appears in front of Patrick in the last second, taking the blow for himself. A scream pierces the air-

I wake with a jolt to the obnoxious beeping from my alarm clock. I rub my eyes, then freeze mid-motion after remembering my dream.

I take a gulp of air. Everything still feels so vivid. I still recall the stench of alcohol on Travis' breath, I can feel the displacement of air as Pete jumps in front of me, I can hear the sickening sound of the belt tearing into Pete's skin.