Broken Stone

Chapter One

I'm Nevaeh. I'm 18 years old. I have red hair. My dad's abusive and my mom's dead. Probably wanted to die so she didn't have to deal with my dad. He's always drunk and I wish I could leave. I'm 18 so I can move out. The problem is I don't have a lot of money.

We live in New York City. Our apartment building is falling apart. My dad is rarely home, so I basically live alone. I can care for myself. I've done it almost my whole life.

My mom died when I was 9 years old. My dad has always beena crazed drunk, but after mom died it got worse. 

Today when I got home, there was a broken bottle right in front of the back window that was open. Guess he was too drunk to use the front door. I went into my room and just screamed. The neighbors didn't care. most of them had the same story. While I was in my room, I heard the front door slam.

"Nevaeh! Get your ass out here!"

I ran to the door to hold it shut.

"You heard me you little shit! Get out here!"

I went out into the livingroom. He looked pretty drunk, he also look like he got ran over by a bus. I wish.

"Clean up the broken glass by the window. I dropped a bottle earlier today,"

"Why don't you it, you lazy, ass bastard?!"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me loud and fricken clear! I'm done with this," I started to cry. "All you do is get drunk, swing at me, then expect me to do things that you don't want to. I'm done!" 

I turned around and ran out the door. I went down the steps two at a time. I didn't know why I was running so fast. He wasn't chasing me. He was happy now. That fricken bastard never cared about me.

When I got outside it was freezing. Good thing I was still wearing my leather jacket. I ran down sidewalks, through crowds of poeple. I didn't know where I was going. Then I looked back, to see if maybe the two percent of him that cared was making him come after me.

But then I was stopped. I had two strong hands on my arms. I looked down at the sidewalk. I was too scared to look up.

"Woah, woah, woah. What do we have going on here?" The voice didn't sound very sincere, but I looked up. My eyes met his. His eyes were cold, hard. But they were so breathe-taking. 

"I'm running away. You got a problem with that?" He looked like someone who had run away too.

"Well," he shrugged. "Where to?"

"I...I honestly don't know. I just want to leave," I started to cry. "Goddamnit, I just to leave." I started punching his chest.

"Hey, hey ,hey. You don't know me. I could be a cop and arrest you for battery right now." He didn't look like no cop. He looked like he was wanted by the cops.

"Listen," he continued. "I don't live in new York. Used to, but not no more. I live down in Oklahoma. Tulsa. I could take you back with me. I've got a home you could stay at."

"Great," I said. Not at all did I realize i was running away with some stranger.

We started walking down the sidewalk. I was calm now.

"I'd ask ya if your hair is natural. But red that deep, comes from a bottle."

"Yeah, I'm not gonna lie. I died last week," I felt like I trusted that boy.

"Well you're trusting."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're running with some boy ya just on a sidewalk in New York. And you don't even know my name,"

"Well, I'm Nevaeh. What's your name?"

"Dallas. But everyone calls me Dally,"

That day he stole me some sodas, screamed at cars that almost hit us as we jay-walked, and stole my heart. I trusted him more than I trusted my own family. And he was some stranger who stopped me from my pointless running to nowhere and told me I could go somewhere.