BLACK SHEEP | DW

029.

"there are different ways of loving, aren't there?"
- patrick white

she got his letter.

it hurt her a little.

but part of venus understood. she can take it at face value. he could learn to trust, learn to love, and accept, and understand too. so she just needed to breathe. she couldn't let herself be torn down by the harshness of his words, or the hurtful closing. she needed to not worry. especially about things outside of her control.

she told herself she wouldn't write back. she would respect his boundaries, and leave him alone like he requested so strongly in the letter. but that was before, this was now.

that same morning she opened the letter, tucked it away in her drawer, and promised herself to forget about it, was also the morning she would realize the true dangers that presented themselves in tulsa.

venus had only been listening to music, the tune traveling and tucking itself into every corner of her room. delicate fingers brushed over the cover of the vinyl, tracing the intricate design with much care.

it was peaceful, it was happy, and the girl found herself emerged amongst her daydreams of getting lost in the forest, the hills, and the sky.

that was until her world shattered around her, like the glass of the window that faces the street. clamoring against the floor with a loud thud, venus flinched as the shards scattered against her floor in dangerous sharpness.

someone yelled obscenities from the street, "rot in hell!" they screamed, before screeching tires spun down the block. carefully, venus peered over her bed, scared to stand in front of the window in case, for some reason, they were still there.

there was nothing, for a moment, except the palpitations captured behind her rib cage, coursing through her very being. it was a brick.

on her floor, surrounded by the bits of the broken window, was a brick. a note was tied to it, one that said "get out of our town," and venus knew then that this brick was meant for her family.

a piece of her was happy that neither bill nor her father were home, she wouldn't want them to worry, but another part of her knew she could not carry the burden of this action on her own.

so maybe that's why she wrote back to Dally, after she swore she wouldn't. maybe she didn't trust anyone but him to tell this little story too. this simple moment that hurt her so much.

Dallas,

you managed to say so much in your letter without saying much at all. unfortunately for you, that was not enough to deter my own letters.

i don't suppose you will read this one, especially after you made it so clear that you don't wish to hear from me, so that is why i am going to say what i will say now. because i know it will go unread, as if i were just writing to myself.

i hate it here in tulsa.

quite honestly, i hate it everywhere.

it seems there might not be a place on this earth where anyone can just live as themselves, their true selves. it's like everyone expects some kind of explanation for your very being.

some socs threw a brick through my bedroom window today. they told my family to leave, to go to hell. isn't it funny? how perhaps they don't know me at all, and certainly don't know my father, but still wish for me to rot in hell. i wondered if they knew me, like truly knew me, if they would still think the same.

i wonder if anyone truly knew everyone, if there would be so much hatred.

if for some reason you are reading, and you have made it this far, then i suppose i also have a confession.

last night, i murdered a cat.

of course, it was an accident. two-bit and i were coming home from the nightly double and didn't mean to run over it. but it's been eating me inside.

how strange it is. there are some people out there who have no remorse throwing a brick at someone's house, and there are people who have too much remorse for a simple animal.

anyways, i hope you are well.

you don't need to write back. i understand i'm a nuisance.

hopefully, one day, your friend,
venus.