The Strength To Carry On

At last, Travis arrived at his home. He walked through the door- the place was a mess, as usual. And Travis was making his way to his room when he noticed his mom comatose on the living room couch.

‘Well, that’s just great,’ Travis thought, ‘She’s drunk.’

Travis continued to his room; when he arrived, though, he found it in worse disorder than its usual chaos.

‘What the heck happened here?’ Travis wondered; he sighed in frustration.

Travis picked up his laptop, and began to work on an overbearing amount of homework he had left to do. However, as he started to work Travis heard a whimper; he looked up, and around the room, but, not seeing anything out of the normal, returned to his work. After about a minute of click-clacking at his computer, Travis again heard a whimper. He got up, looked around, and noticed something moving under a pile of clothes; Travis came closer and removed a few pieces of clothing.

“Alex?” Travis found his brother, bloodstained and bruised, under the heap of clothes, “Alex, what happened?”

“Mom…she got drunk; I could’ve run, but I didn’t want to leave her alone.”

Travis said nothing more; he marched out to the living room where his mom was passed out.

“Mom!” Travis hollered.

His mom slowly came to.

“Hello, Travis. Come to chew me out? Well, you’re just as guilty as I am…” Travis’ mom retorted.

“I never laid a hand on him. And-“

“You glorified the fights. You made bullying kids sound appealing. You only measured a man’s worth by how good he was at destroying another human being. Yea, I hurt Alex; but I was drunk, and I only hurt him temporarily- you’ve destroyed his mind. I know I can’t excuse this, or my drinking; but you can’t excuse yourself either. So just, shut-up…”

Travis was wounded. All that he cared about had fallen before him, and his worst fears had been proved true. What he had been doing was wrong; and deep down Travis knew that he was aware of it all the while.

True, now Travis understood that what he was doing was wrong; however, the recent chain of events had left him crippled. He neither knew how to atone for what he had done nor did he have the mettle to endure anymore humiliation, much less try to change his ways or stand against the injustices now exposed to him. He needed courage.

So, Travis sent Alex to a friend’s house (a friend who knew well of, yet conveniently overlooked, his mother’s many habits), and went on another walk; but this time Travis didn’t know where he was going- he just needed to think.

‘I want to do something about this- I really do,’ Travis’ thoughts exasperated. ‘But I’m just so…tired. And I want someone to support me; but my friends think what I did was fine, and mom hates me for what I did. And Alex…he’s got nothing left in him either.’ 

As Travis walked, he happened upon a small Nazarene Church. Its sign presented a youth service that started at one o’clock- it was presently five minutes until one.

‘It’s Church; certainly, can’t hurt,’ Travis thought, as he walked in.

The End

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