Saving Dallas Winston//// A Dallas Winston Story

5: It Just Hurts Sometimes

Depression. You never care about it, until you're in it. It finally lost it's grip on you and you got away. At least, thats what its like for me. The feeling of not wanting to live anymore. The feeling of thinking all your problems will go away if you do.

I haven't wanted to die for a while, but that feeling. That damn feeling came creeping back in, sucking out the will to live. It's like that monster from under your bed became you. You now have it's sharp claws and teeth. You now have the power of it's poison behind your bite. But you also have it's inability to do anything harmful, you want to but can't. You can, but won't. Love is holding you back.

You don't want to be loved. You don't want to love. Everything seems like a challenge.

I layed in Dallas' bed staring at the ceiling with light peeking in from behind the curtain. I could still hear his rhythmic breathing next to me as his chest moved up in down and his heart beat at a steady rate. I didn't dare look at him, I didn't really care to. I was too lost in my own haunting thoughts to know wheather he was actually asleep or what he looked like.

I had to kill Mark. I felt so disgusted. I really wanted a shower to clean off this feeling, but I didn't want to move. I didn't want to face the world today. I didn't want to be alive. 

That feeling.

Dallas' breathing hitched next to me and lost it's rhythm. He sat up and rubbed his eyes before turning to look at me.

"You good?"

I didn't answer.

"You're gonna have to get up."

I just sighed.

"Why don't you uh," he scratched the back of his head, "take a shower?" I knew he didn't like this. This being nice to me.

"I'm gonna get going. I know you hate the whole being nice to me thing. So, forget what happened and we can go back to fighting each other." He stepped out for a moment and let me get dressed. I got out of the bed and pulled his shirt off leaving me in my bra and underwear.

I grabbed my clothes from yesterday, the shirt was torn on the hem and shoulder and I hadn't realized it. I pulled it on anyways and let him in. His gaze went to the rips in my shirt and he cleared his throat.

"Take the shirt. You don't need to walk home with that on. Just tell you brothers that your shirt snagged on something and ripped while you were getting wasted."

"Why are you helping me?" I blurt out suddenly, while I pulled his shirt on and pulled my other shirt out from under it. I tossed the ripped shirt in the trash can he had next to his dresser and faced him.

"You're part of the gang and the Curtis' only sister." He shrugged.

"Yeah, but that hasn't made a difference before."

"God, would you just accept the fact I'm helping you and get the hell over it?" he shouted.

I pulled my jeans on and pulled on my shoes.

"Whatever." I shook my head and began walking out of his room. Before I closed the door I looked back, "Thank you, though." he nodded his head in response and I closed the door. "Bye Buck." I said quietly. He was wiping down the bar with a towel.

"Hey, I didn't see you drink last night. I never saw you after you talked to Dallas now that I think about it."

"Yeah, some stuff happened."

"Did you sleep with Dallas?" He whisper shouted with raised eyebrows.

"God no. Are you insane?" Buck chuckled.