BLACK SHEEP | DW

055.

we are so distracted by how things end, we often forget how wonderful the beginning was.

venus remembers the last words her father told her before they placed him in some odd prison down in louisiana, "in life, there are only three things you can never fully recover from," he said to her. "the moment, after it has passed. the words, after they are spoken. and the time, after it is lost."

standing now, in front of the long tall mirror in her childhood bedroom, venus supposed that maybe he was right. in just a few short months, she found herself on the polar opposite end of the life she once had.

the winter rain had long passed, and once again it is almost summer, and venus begins to think that she might never feel the joy she once felt— being in tulsa.

when she tilts her head, side to side, almost as if she were checking to make sure it was really her own face staring back in that reflective glass, the face that looks so hollow and broken, her hair tumbles over her shoulders, curving around every inch of her torso.

she forced herself to look at her body, to find some approval and comfortable feeling in staring at her bare chest without cowering to the thought of those pictures taken almost a year ago.

a year ago, she still had that sense of innocence and privacy. a year ago, Dally showed up at her window during the nights, almost as if he were sent there to release her from her winding thoughts. a year ago, johnny was alive...

for the town she thought she would dread, it ended up being everything she ever wanted.

at least it's all she wanted right now.

to walk in town center with steve and sodapop, aimlessly finding a way to kill the time that seemed to never end. how she wished she had more of that time now.

to sprawl out across the dock on the lake of her backyard, feeling the whistling wind blow against her cooling skin, as johnny told her a story he heard about things that couldn't possibly be true. how she wished to hear one more story.

to sit quietly in the library, sharing odd glances and then trying not to laugh when the silence got too awkward, making ponyboy veil the growing grin he inevitably sported behind his hand. how she wished to feel those yellowing pages flicker between her hands one more time.

to listen to the radio with two-bit, nodding along obnoxiously to the beat, almost as if it infected them with some plague, and scream to poor bystanders as they tore through main street on a school night. how she wished to stay up late one more time just for the chance to relieve that melodic laughter.

to sit in the curtis's kitchen, covered in flower, insisting that darry tried just once more to teach her how to bake a cake the way he had. for him to get annoyed at how terrible she shown her baking talents to be, but to hide it because she looked so determined. how she wished that he would send her that judgmental look one more time as they wasted another batch.

to feel her head pounding as angela dragged her to some odd western bar, listening to her ramblings about a boy who was less than gentlemen-like. to get into a fight, and then laugh about it the rest of the night when they recounted the stories in their own convoluted way. how she wished to lay in bed one more time, listening to angela rant on about how she would 'kill' one of those boys when they pushed her too far.

to feel the warm sun, that was Dally's presence, fill her to the brim with light and joy. to stand hip to hip, and when his hand inevitably brushed against hers, it would feel like a match stick begging for fire. how she wished, just once more, to feel that stupid lurch in her chest, and feel her lips curled up in giddy thought, giving way to a less pained expression than they had usually sported.