Part One
Home is a depressing place, and always has been. Nobody knows this, but he's run away three times already. The first time, he was was afraid, and came back home around midnight that same night. He still berates himself for that; the punishment had been severe. The second time, he was gone for a week. He never told anybody where he had been for that one week, and he told himself that he never would. He shudders when he thinks about his father's face when he was brought home by the police. Stern and hard, with a little gleam in his eyes, and that look is something he's learned to fear. The third time, the only time anyone outside his family will know about, he just runs.
He's running down the street, all sweat and skin and blood flowing from his bottom lip. His shirt is ripped just a little, and if someone were there, they could just see the bruises. The bottoms of his feet hurt from running so hard, and so fast, and he has to hold his flannel pants up or else they'll fall down because the elastic has been broken. Broken by rough hands that don't care, and only want.
He doesn't know where he's running to, he's just running, and he's surprised to find himself hurtling in the direction of Ray's house. 'Why am I here?' For a moment, he forgets. Everything becomes non-existant, and he doesn't understand why he is. He's still running, and he slows down as he understands what has happened. No, not understands, he comprehends. This is something he can't even begin to understand, doesn't want to. And now he's at Ray's house.
He goes around back to Ray's window, knocks softly. Nothing. He knocks again, a little bit louder. This time, he sees the head of dark brown, mussed hair pop up, half hidden behind the window frame. He hears the tired, surprised whisper of, "Travis?" and just stands there, shivering in the cool night breeze. The window opens, and Travis's head is hit with a puff of warm air.
"Dude, it's like, two thirty. What are you-?" Ray starts, but then realises that Travis doesn't look as he should. "Travis? Dude, what happened?"
"Can I come in?" The first really coherent words Travis has spoken tonight. Ray moves to the head of his bed, and helps Travis up and through the window. Travis falls to the bed with a slight whimper, and sits up, rubbing some of his sore muscles. Before Ray can ask any more questions, Travis speaks up.
"Can I... stay here tonight?" The tentativeness of the question surprises Ray, and he simply nods. Never has he known Travis to be timid, nor has he known him to be easily beat. Which leads him to thinking, while he spreads a blanket and pillow out on the floor for himself, about how it is that Travis, Kung Fu Master of The Universe, came to get the shit beaten out of him.
"So," Ray says, settling down on the floor next to the bed, "what happened?"
The silence hangs heavy in the air, and Ray is confused by the frightened look on his friends pale face. Travis looks down at the bedspread and decides that this would be an appropriate time to play with the corner of Ray's blue comforter. After a few minutes, he speaks.
"It was just lemonade," he says, the fear fading away into something more primal: rage. "I spilled it," he continues, before Ray has enough time to be confused, "on the living room carpet. Only a little bit, but he went nuts. He started throwing things, and screaming at me, and I was afraid so I ran upstairs. I locked myself in my room. I thought he couldn't come in, ya know? But he just broke the door down, like it was nothing."
Travis has stopped talking, and is, instead, staring at the far wall. He is shaking, tears leaking out of his eyes. Ray is worried, and does the thing he's best at, talking.
"So, what happened? C'mon Travis, you can tell me, man. Please... tell me." The pleading look in those big brown eyes eventually wares away at Travis until he sighs heavily, and drops his head.
"He hit me. B-but... he didn't stop there." Travis is sobbing, and it was hard to understand what he's saying, but Ray is getting the jist of it. "He-he... Ray, he-" Travis lets go of his pants, which he has been holding all this time, to bring his hands up and hold his face. Ray sees where the elastic is broken, and the pants are sagging, and he sees the hand-shaped bruise on Travis's right hip. He also notices the shirt, which he hadn't before. He sees the bruises, looks closer and sees the scars. "He fucking raped me!!" Travis nearly shouts. He knows that Ray knows, but he just needs to say it out loud. He needs it to be real, otherwise he's crazy and everyone is right about him, and now that it's real, he doesn't know what to do.
Ray climbs up onto the bed, and hugs his best friend, loosely, so as not to hurt him. Travis yanks himself away at first, then regains his senses. 'He's not your father,' he tells himself, 'He's your best friend, Ray. Just let him...' And it feels so good to just be held.