'You got that James Dean daydream look in your eye
And I got that red lip classic thing that you like
And when we go crashing down, we come back every time
'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style
You got that long hair, slicked bac...
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It had been a week since the incident. Time seemed to be slipping through his fingers. Most nights, when he closed his eyes, Damon could still see them, the burned eye, the slit throat. But the images most people would scream at, cry or lock themselves into a phycology ward.
But Damon, no. Those images brought him peace. It brought him closure and gave him a scene of comfort.
Maybe that made him crazy. Maybe that made insane. It was most likely the reason he needed a therapist. But knowing that he got rid of those three guys, knowing that people like that no longer walked this earth. That made him happy.
Damon narrowed his eyes as he watched Bella and Hardin drive past him. He saw a tarp in the back of Bella's truck, a wheel peeking out of it.
So him being him, spun around quickly on his bike and sped down the road after them, he cut them off and placed his bike right in front of the moving truck.
"Oh my god!" He heard the scream as soon as he took his helmet off. "Damon!"
"Are you crazy! I could have killed you!" Bella got out the truck marching over to him.
"Where you heading?" He questioned as he slid off the bike.
"Seriously, Damon!" Hardin's voice called out as he came tumbling out the truck. "Bella's an alright driver at best. She could have killed you." The man was waving his arms in the air frantically.
"Yeah." Bella nodded her head in agreement before looking back at Hardin. "Alright, driver?"
"You know it's true." Both boys rasied an eyebrow at her. This time, she didn't argue. Instead, she just rolled her eyes at them before sighing.
Damon looked down at them, his ehes softer now. "I'll ask again. Where are you going?" His voice was softer now, no longer the accussing tone like before.
His younger siblings looked between one another as if having a silent conversation with their eyes on who would tell him.
"The Rez, La push." Bella told him sheepishly as she hooked her arm through Hardin's.
If damon decided to throw her over his shoulder and take her home, he'd have to pick them both up.
He narrowed his eyes, looking between the two, waiting for more information. "Don't make me look under the tarp."
Once again, the pair went quite both shifting on their feet's, glancing anywhere but him. It was like they were children who had been caught red-handed stuffing their hands in the cookie jar.
He sighed, going to move to the truck, but Hardin spoke up.
"Bella wanted to go to the Rez so she could see Jacob black and ask him to help build these bikes she found in the junk." Damon blinked. He wondered for a moment if his brother breathed at all during that sentence.
