Of course you do. Push them all away. All you need is your father's guidance. That is all I needed. Travis bolted upright. Push away..Sally? To be frank, he already did that, but the notion hurt all the same. Unlike the ridged heart of his father, Travis felt obscenely guilty for shoving the other's kindness right back into his face. How was he going to act when he sees Sal again, and what if he was surrounded by his friends? Larry would surely punch him and Ash would cuss him out. Thoughts started to go by so quickly Travis could barely catch on to one before it was interrupted by another. Suddenly, one stuck. No! Stop it!

Travis was a young boy in the ministry. A choir boy, really. His dad and him just moved in and joined the church. He was ignorant truly when the church goers started to give him curious looks. Travis felt uncomfortable until his dad placed a hand on his shoulder sweetly and moved him towards the back of the church before mass began. Travis grinned up at his father as they continued down to walk. Then, the child realized he had never seen this hallway before. He shrugged it off. He hadn't seen much of the church anyway. However, he shivered and clung closer to his father. The shadows on the wall seem to stretch ahead of him as they walked towards what seemed to be a dead end. Travis's dad reached towards the wall and pushed in a random stone. The wall creaked and groaned, sliding to reveal a narrow passage that spiraled downwards. The young boy moved backwards in fright, but the pastor pushed him forward and they started on their long way down.

Shaking, Travis began to fumble around, looking for his knife. He was not going to remember this. He could not. But you will. Travis fought back tears as he was plunged back into the memory.

The air thickly clung to the sides of the child's lungs. A cavern opened up in front of him that housed many spikes and an altar. Travis faltered as he looked for his dad, but somehow he had escaped without Travis even noticing. The pastor walked out from one of the alcoves with random objects in his hands that Travis couldn't place. The man dropped everything nearby the altar and turned to face his son. "Listen, boy, I need you to sit up here for a sec, alright?", he said as casually as possible.

Travis shook his head vigorously no. He did not like the feeling of this place one bit. The young child curled in on himself, making the man sigh heavily. "If you do not get up there, you will be punished."

The boy stiffened and started to shake. He rose his head and stepped forward. He refused to disappoint his father. Dad grinned up at him and picked him up. Travis let out a tiny squeak as he was sat on the cold stone slab. His dad pushed back his shoulders until he way laying down fully. Travis felt his nerves spike when his dad left his view, but was quickly reassured when he felt his dad's hand on his arm. That was weird. Why is there a metal circle on his wrist? Before he had the chance to react, all four of his limbs and his neck were attached to this slab. Confusion furrowed the child's brows when he felt a liquid being poured on him. It didn't hurt, but it was very cold. His skin raised as he shivered uncontrollably. Then, that cold became very, very hot. Shrieks sounded throughout the chasm as a fire raged around him. He felt his skin burn all along his body. Chanting mixed with the sounds of a pained child rang through the underground building. Travis convulsed aggressively until his brain shut off and everything faded to black.

Shuddering breaths fell into a quiet night. The buzz of the TV outside his room was the only noise he could hear. His hands clutched the covers as his head pulsed. A sharp ringing found its way into his ear. He pushed away the memory as much as he could, but the burning sensation swirled along his arms. Travis gagged at his past self. So trusting. His father paved the way for the biggest betrayal in Travis's life. When he woke back then, it was in bed with his pajamas. He was almost certain it was a dream, or nightmare really. The urge to shout and plead for a different past could change nothing. He was left as a fractured soul with an extra voice and poisonous actions. Barely human. Nausea clamped around his stomach as bile gathered in his throat. Swallowing heavily, Travis had to leave.

The night filled in the shadows around him. His house stood weakly against the dark sky. Stars blinked down at him condescending. Travis started to run, his feet slamming against the concrete. He needed out, now. Air blew across his face and his lungs burned, but he refused to stop. The lights and shadows blurred as the seconds turned into minutes. The neighborhood gave way to forest. Travis hunched over, gasping. What brought him here? He slid down the trunk of the tree and glanced towards the sky. The moon shone down in a sliver, cat-like and the grass beneath him tickled his hands. Swallowing heavily, he pulled himself up off the ground. Oddly enough, a triangle peaked out over the foliage. Curiosity caused him to walked closer and closer until he reached a clearing with a tree house, a block building not far from it. Travis went back and forth whether he should intrude and climb up to a safer place than his own fucking home. Fuck, why did it have to be like this. A sharp pain in his side made the decision for him as he grabbed the first hold.

He entered into the small abode cautiously. It seemed mildly dusty and very dark. Travis should have known. Fool. Go home, back to safety. The cops will get ya if they find you. Daddy will be ten times worse when he realizes you're gone. Head shaking, he fumbled around until he found a dial of some sort. He twisted it sharply, making the treehouse flood with light. Blinded and cursing, Travis switched off the lantern he had apparently found. He backed up, but was abruptly stopped by an object near the back wall. Laying his hands down on it, he quickly deduced it was a chest. Lucky for him, the lid lifted easily. He began to feel around for something to lay his head down on when he felt something softer than the other random pieces of crap in there. Pulling back, he determined he had fished out a jacket. Perfect. Travis bunched the jacket and laid down. Maybe just a quick nap…

Travis woke to the sounds of creaking boards. He had almost never moved so fast. Hide. The chest! The blonde dove into the chest and buried himself, not unlike a crab, to the very bottom of this chest. The jacket. I left it on the floor. Terror flew up his veins, replacing the I-just-woke-up feeling with the fear of being found out. "What the hell? Why the FUCK is this on the floor?" a muffled voice soaked into the wooden boards.

Travis felt his heart seize. This is it. I told you to go back to the lovely preacher. What time is it, anyway? He never caught the time through the mad dash, but was it really a good time for someone to be up here? Those thoughts were instantly shut down as the holes above him filled with light. Travis didn't breathe; the seconds ticked on. The sound of the jacket hitting the top layer of junk filled his system with relief. Too much relief. A sigh escaped from his lips, quiet, but just enough to catch the intruder's attention. Mumbling, the mystery started to dig downwards. "DAH! What the hell?!" Larry yelled.

Uncomfortably, Travis slowly opened his eyes. He had instinctively thrown his hands up, ready to block punches. However, when no punches came, Travis looked up, surprised. The look of murder on Larry's face was enough to make him flinch back. "You better start explaining really fast why you are here. Then, why you touched my dad's jacket." Each word twinged with distaste

"L-listen, Larry, I am so sorry. I had no idea this was yours. I needed a place to go. I'm s-sorry. P-please forgive me for using your d-dad's jacket. I had no idea. P-please d-don't h-hurt me." By the time the boy was finished, he had tears running down his face and he was shaking like a leaf.

Larry stared at him for a beat longer. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Listen, kid, I don't know what made you think you can just go into someone else's place without issues.," Larry paused when Travis began to hyperventilate, "However, I believe that you needed a place to go, so I am not that mad. You have to explain some things though before I forgive you."

Travis nodded zealously, still spewing apologies. The sun finally reached its kind fingers to the Puerto Rican's face. The sun? Travis bolted upright and looked out the window. The sun had just peaked out from the hills; he could still make it home before his dad got pissed. "Larry, I have to go. I promise I will tell you why, but my dad will kill me if he finds out I left last night."

Larry paused, wondering about the connotation of those words. Would his dad really kill him? The blonde's hair disappeared down the steps and reappeared out the window, running like a bat out of hell. Like his life was in danger. Larry shuddered at the look of horror Travis had thrown his way. Larry's mom burst of out the back door, "Lar-bear, we are going to re-tile the kitchen today! Get going, sweetie."

Travis arrived at his door twenty minutes later with a red face and sweaty clothes. The front door opened easily, so all he had to do was make it back to his room. "Welcome back Travis. Would you like to go to the ministry today? I was thinking the confessionals." His father called from the living room.

Ice slid into his heart. Whenever his dad said confessionals, Travis shuddered. "Yes sir, it is a wonderful Saturday for confessions." He answered robotically.

The pastor got up and patted his shoulder. He pushed Travis back out the door and shut it behind himself. "We are going to go now, okay?" He said with a sugary smile.

Nodding numbly, Travis, the simpering fool who deserves whatever he gets, fell in line behind his father. The ministry wasn't far, but it felt like miles. Each step antagonized him with what was to come. His brain urged him to both stay and flee, but his feet firmly never strayed. He knew exactly what would happen if he tried. His father had a mean whip. Trees and road turned into shadowed tunnels and long steps. He was greeted with the familiar sight of an altar. Travis began to walk, as nonchalantly as possible, toward his most hated slab, but his dad grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back. He then turned Travis toward a new edition in the room. It was a leather chair with holds for wrists and ankles. A sharp shove to his back threw him towards an unfamiliarity. He could mentally handle, sort of, the altar, but...what has gonna happen? Apparently he had been taking too long because his dad turned him away from the chair. The relief was short lived when a swift kick to the groin and a shove backwards hit him all at once. Groaning in pain, Travis was strapped down. Mr. Phelps smiled sadly down at his failure of a son before he plunged a syringe into his neck. His muscles twitch with the urge to resist, but that would only anger him more. Travis felt his eyes get very heavy. A sedative? But that isn't normally…. His mouth feels fuzzy while his brain feels hyperaware. Mr. Phelps gathered some tools on a metal tray. "Open wide, my boy."

Travis's mind screeched at him to follow this man to the ends of the earth. His jaw easily opened, allowing his loving father to stick a metal device into his mouth. It stung, but Travis would never disobey. The boy's eyes widened almost comically at the pliers his dad pulled from out of his view. Suddenly, a connection was made. Obey. Travis swallowed down the urge to fight and relaxed like a good little boy. A dark laugh bounced around the room as the cold metal attached to one of Travis's teeth. Streams of water were running from the boy's eyes, but he wasn't completely sure why. Mr. Phelps then started to pull. Gasps of pain were unwittingly made as blood began to fill in the gaps. After many long minutes of tugging, the tooth popped out. Travis felt his jaw pulsate painfully, but he was just so proud of being good, that he didn't care. Father patted his head and pocketed his tooth. Who cares why, he was a good boy. Good.

The chair was removed from him as his daddy took him in his arms. Travis fuzzily swung his head around, waiting to go home. Mr. Phelps tutted at the impatience surround his son. A lesson must still be taught. Travis wondered why his dad was removing his shirt, but his trust told him to stay put. I trust Daddy. He will give me what I deserve. "Up against the wall and remember to count." He stated calmly.

The leather whistled through the air twenty-one times to be exact. Travis would know of course. By the time they had returned that night, the drugs had worn off. He was back to fully disgusted with his father and himself. "Get out of the house. Don't return until tomorrow morning. I don't want filth in my house right now."