Sin creeps in (Salvis) (discontinued)

4

Sals pov:

"You did Fucking what?" Larry looked like he was gonna full on spit tank on his soda.

It was about the reaction I had expected to telling him that we couldn't smoke tonight because I invited Travis Phelps over. Honestly though, if I was in Larry's position, I'd think the guy who who wanted the world's biggest asshole at his apartment was out of his mind, too.

"Larry, he has nowhere else to go. He's getting his shit rocked every night at home."

"Good. He deserves it for being such a flaming douche." Larry replied smoothly, the baggy in his hand still on display.

"That's not funny. And seriously put the pot away. I think he might blow his lid if he knows we smoke, and I don't want him to rat and get Todd into shit."

"Sally, this is retarded. He literally had you pinned against a locker this morning, dude. Did you forget about him making Nockfell high hell? He's been dropping Chugs dead-name and calling us fags for years."

(A/n: Im diagnosed, I can reclaim the word. Also I hc Larry as having adhd, so that's why he's using it.)

"I know I just- I don't think he's a bad guy. Just has a shitty household and a bad attitude. I really think with some good influences could really be good for him. Plus, I don't even know if he's coming. It's almost nine o'cloc-"

Just then the buzzer on the door rang out through the apartment.

"Coming!" I yelled. I got up from the couch, setting my paper plate of pizza on the floor and clipping on my prosthetic.

"That must be him. Seriously, lar, be nice. For my sake." I said, making my way to the door.

As I opened it, i couldn't help but let out an audible gasp.

It was Travis alright, but he looked like fucking shit. I didn't realize someone's face could have that many colors on it at once. Purples and browns and yellows showed stark against his tan skin. Both his eyes were forming bruises, one eye looking almost swollen shut. His lip was split, and he had blood all over his white tee shirt.

I had seen him with his sweater sleeves shoved up as he beat the shit out of people, but he never in short sleeves. I realized why. Not only were his arms littered with bruises, some much fresher than others, but thin white lines and burns also fell in rows above his elbows. It was obvious how are you got those kinds of scars.

"Sorry, I didn't have time to clean up. Can I come in?" He said, staring at the floor.
I shook myself from the staring I was doing, myself. I hoped the shadow from my mask was hiding my eye.

"Oh, fuck! Yeah of course. Come on, the bathrooms down the hall, I'll get the 1st aid kit." I said, turning to retrieve it from dads office.

"And, uh, larry can get you clothes. I don't think mine will fit." Travis followed me into the apartment.

"Fucking hell, dude! You look like someone dropped an h bomb on your ass! What the hell happened?" I heard Larry say as I hauled ass down the hallway on my way to the bandages. I cringed.

"I fell. What does it look like, dumbass?" Travis hissed, sarcastically.

I heard Larry scoff from the couch.

"Gee, sal, you were right. Some tlc is all this fucker needs." He yelled to me. I smacked myself in the forehead of my prosthetic. I love that guy but he can be fucking dense.

I heard the door slam as I grabbed the kit. I hoped it was Larry getting clothes and not him leaving for good. Honestly I wouldn't be surprised.

"Ok, cmon." I said rushing into the bathroom. "Here, take you shirt off and sit in the tub, that way we wont get blood everywhere."

Travis followed me threw the doorway, looking nervous.

"Take my shirt off?"

"Um, yeah. Unless you want to get naked. Then you can take everything off, I guess."

"What? I don't- I'm not- No, I don't want to get naked!" He said, obviously flustered.

"Relax, man, I was joking. Just the shirt is good."

"I'm not gonna take my shirt off in front of you." He hissed.

"Why?"

"I don't want to be shirtless in front of a gay dude. And because god says it's wrong. One should adorn themselves in respectable apparel, with modesty and self-control, Timothy 2:9."

"Don't flatter yourself. Also, did you just know that off the top of you head?"

"Um.. yeah doesn't everyone. It's a pretty common verse?"

"You know what, it doesn't matter. Seriously, I don't think god's gonna mind. It's for good cause."

Travis sighed.

"Whatever." He mustered, finally lifting his shirt. "But this is so fucking gay."

It was brutal. He was covered in bruises, and more burns. I really hoped it wasn't some sick punishment from the old man. There were also more thin cuts and scars littering his hips and collar bones.

"Travis... you can't go back there-"

"I know. Can we just... not talk about it right now?"

I nodded, and started helping him with the bandages.