in which she swims to forget all the pain, but he sees it all because dallas edlen is not ok and, having loved her for years, seeing that was no task.
ONE BREATH
MINIMINTER
SIDEMEN
DEATHLIES 2016
[COMPLETED]
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THIRTY EIGHT d a l l a s
The next Monday, Dallas was in school, but not to attend. She was there to speak to Morris about everything. Morris had insisted on it because she knew Dallas and she knew that she would be feeling awful about it, even if she pretended like she meant it.
But that was Dallas: faking it until even she believed it to be the truth.
Morris was an outside perspective on it. Her view not twisted by love, alcohol or hate. It was a pure perspective of a situation that had violently gotten out of hand and now it was the recoil from it all.
In part, she felt it was her fault that it happened because she should have, as a factor of her job, taken the necessary steps to get Dallas therapy for the anger problems she fully knew she had. If she'd done it, maybe none of this would have happened, but then again maybe it would've.
"Hi, Dallas," She says as Dallas walks into the room, pulling her jacket tighter around herself and slumping down into the seat.
"Hi," She replies.
"How've you been?" She asks, clasping her hands together in an attempt to remain optimistic.
Dallas' eyes shift onto her. "Oh, I've been great," She responds, her head rocking back on her shoulders. She lets out a small laugh. "Punching my old best friend was the highlight of last week!"
"Dallas, be serious."
"Being serious makes it all too real." She puts her hands behind her head, rocking back on the chair. "Why would I want this to be real?"
"It is real."
"I know,"She emphasises.
"Then be serious," Morris tells her, trying to bite her tongue. "Now, let's talk about the incident."
Dallas laughs again. "You can call it an expulsion, Morris, I'm not going to rip your head off for it. That's what it is. It's a very real fact." She rocks forward on the chair, resting her elbows on Morris' desk.
"Yes, your expulsion," Morris continues, clearing her throat. "How do you feel about it?"
Dallas lets her head settle on her hand, tilting it slightly. "That's a tough question because of course I'm not ok with it. My mum was angry with me for it." Her mouth dips into a frown. replacing the forced front she'd pulled up.
"Did you argue about it?" Morris presses, absentmindedly picking up her pen and chewing on the end. Dallas watches her, but says nothing.
"Yes," Dallas responds, looking down at the desk. "She was drunk at the time, but she hit me again." She says it slowly as if she didn't want it to be real. But it was too real, sadly and tragically real.
"Was it worse than previous abuse?"
"Yes."
"Dallas, it's very important that you tell the truth here."
"I am telling the truth!" She exclaims suddenly, her hands slamming onto the desk.
"Please, calm down." Morris tells her, almost with a flustered tone and a flicker of worry that Dallas would snap like she had before, but then she concluded that a ridiculous notion and began chewing on the end of her pen again.
Dallas uncurls her fists and sits back in the chair. "I am telling the truth," She says again, her voice more gentle this time. She sounds lost.
"I will speak to the services, if it's as bad as you say it is. They'll-"
"It is as bad as I say it is."
"Yes, we'll I'll speak with then and they'll arrange for things to change."
"I think I need things to change because this place is suffocating."
And that was the truth. Dallas had grown to hate it here. She needed a break. She would come back when she was ready, but right now this was not the place for her. Not one bit. The people, their faces reminded her of the years she'd spent here. How they looked at her in pity after her brother's death, how she'd wanted them to stop and turn away.
