Peterick//More Than You Bargained For

finale- part two

Each footstep from Travis getting closer to my bedroom sounds like a bomb going off.

It's time.

I take a deep breath and dial Pete's number, then turn my sound all the way down. I quickly check the device on the shelf to make sure it's on; it is.

I sit back on my bed and wait. In a matter of seconds, Travis is in my room, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt and throwing me on the ground.

I whimper as I hit the floor with a thud. "I knew you were a fucking faggot." He snarls.

I flinch at the words. "So you're gonna beat me up because I'm gay? How the fuck as that right?" I ask shakily.

"I don't have to explain myself to you."

With a sudden rage boiling up inside me, I stand and step close to him. I put my face in his, just to piss him off. My fists are balled up at my sides, shaking. "You're a piece of shit. You know that? Using my mother for fucking pills, beating her son senseless. Don't deny it, Travis."

He narrows his eyes at me. "It's easy, considering nobody will believe you. You don't have any evidence."

I fight back a chuckle.

You're in for a surprise, bud.

I continue to egg him on. I push him lightly on the shoulders, making him step back. He raises his eyebrows, knowing that I never fight back.

"Look who decided to stand up for himself..." he observes.

"Who else is going to stand up for me? My mother is drunk off her ass and my father is dead. It's only me here." I tell him.

He chuckles and pushes me, making me fall to the ground again. As he pulls his fist back for a hit, my eyes flicker to the device on the shelf. There's a red light glowing, signaling that it's recording.

It'll be worth it.

Pete should be here soon. He should've figured it out by now, and he told me he wouldn't let Travis hurt me again. If I know him, I know that he'll come racing to my house as fast as he can.

I shut my eyes closed, clinging onto the hope that Pete will come any second.

The man's fist collides with my nose. I hear a crack noise, and feel a sudden numbness on the bridge of my nose. I put my hand up, feeling the warm blood run down from the wound.

I attempt to take a deep breath, but my nostrils are clogged with blood.

No. No. No. I can't do this.

"Stop!" I yell, "Please."

He laughs heartily. "When was the last time I stopped, kid?"

He sends a kick into my stomach. I'm not braced for the pain, so a whimper escapes from my mouth.

I give up, curling into a ball as he continues to kick and punch me.

All I can think about is Pete.

Where the hell is he?