meant to be yours | d.w

32

"Is there no way out of the mind?"

A/N: Sorry for the delay on this chapter I've been so busy with school lately but I'm going to try and get out more chapters this week!

Rebecca Davis

I wanted to find some hidden consensus in me that believed my current actions were completely stripped of this duty in me. The girl that cares for the people she likes.

Because no matter how long I stay in denial, I like him. I really do. I like Dallas Winston, regardless of what he does. I think that's what has always caused me to be so afraid. Just the mere thought of staying unhinged around him, not being scared of his presence, it all scares me senseless.

I still hate him, I promise I do. But I can't help but wonder. There's no harm in the premise of thinking, right? Thinking about him, in ways that make me want to slap myself right across the cheek. When he stumbled upon my door, that vulnerable look in his eye, I almost wanted to forgive him.

Almost.

I suppose that's a common theme with us. When it comes down to it, we almost find a way out of the rubble.

I almost turned him away, right at my doorstep.

I almost questioned him with upmost rage on why he would ruin everything.

I was almost an idiot.

Because if I dared question him, he would know I still cared. But then again, I don't think I can ever stop caring.

"Nice place you got here." Dallas remarked as he stepped inside, his steps staggering.

Rebecca practically flinched. "It's not my home, it's Kristy's."

Dallas laughed. "That's right, the hooker."

Rebecca took a deep breath, remembering he was black out drunk, and was most likely to pass out at any given moment. But despite her understanding of his condition, she still hated that he had anything to say about her aunt.

She stepped forward, tugging on his arm in order to pull him upstairs. Rebecca couldn't risk Will and Kristy coming home to see a drunk Dallas on their couch in the morning, leading her only option to be allowing Dallas into her room for the night.

Dallas mumbled a handful of profanities as she harshly pulled on him.

"Jesus, aren't I the one wounded?"

Rebecca rolled her eyes. "I wish you weren't. Then I wouldn't have to put up with you in the first place."

When they had made it up the stairs, Rebecca motioned for Dallas to step inside. Dallas was drunk, that was blatantly obvious. But along with his wandering steps and tipsy filled eyes, there was something different about his features.

His eyes were swimming with warmth as the strikes of thunder hit. Every so often, she would see how there was a numerous amount of color bestowed in him. So much familiarity was contracted between that pair of eyes Rebecca deemed as emotionless.

It was that feeling you get when you're absolutely ravenous. The flavors all hit you at once. Allowing you to be struck by the combination of color, of taste, of drowsiness.

She snapped out of it quickly, realizing that those eyes have no pleasant redemption. For those exact eyes are the ones that watched a little boy cower in fear. Those eyes are the cause of all her problems.

"Ur' not gonna try anything on me are ya doll?" Dallas slurred as Rebecca guided him to the bed.

She had no response but to laugh.