five

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—THURSDAY

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THURSDAY

days passed, and everyone started coming around again, except for dallas.

we haven't heard anything from him. two-bit jokes about how he must be in jail.

that's a possibility, but he always calls when he gets locked up.

as we sat scattered around the living room, i decided that i'll go find dallas.

"you want anyone to go with you?" steve asks, trying to win the arm wrestle with sodapop.

"no, i think it's best if i go alone" i reply and walk out the door. i know dallas doesn't want to be bothered, but this isn't good for him.

i make it safely to bucks and knock on the door. i was looking around as it opened.

"annalise? what are you here for so early?" buck asks.

"i'm here to see dallas" i say curtly.

"i don't know man, he's not doing so good.." he says.

"yeah, i figured. that's why i'm here" i say, pushing him out of the way so that i can come in.

i look around the bar and don't see him there, so i head upstairs to his room.

i knock on his door gently. i hear him groan loudly. "get out of here, man! i said i'm fine!" he shouts weakly.

"it's annalise" i shout through the door. i hear his bed creak, but then hear him groan again.

"shit, go back home" he says.

"dallas, come on, i'm coming in" i say and open the door.

when i walk in, i see bottle of alcohol sitting around the room, his clothes sprawled on the floor, bath towels as well.

"jesus, dallas" i say shocked.

i look over at him, he has his blankets covering him and his hand over his face.

i don't know what to say.

he's always been depressed, he usually copes with it by doing illegal activities. i've never seen him like this.

"dallas.." i make my way over to him. "get up" i say and pull the covers off of him.

i gasp and throw my hand over my mouth when i see his wounds on his body.

a couple of them are really bad.

ANNALISE | Dallas WinstonWhere stories live. Discover now