I'd Sell My Soul

Chapter 3

Dew's P.O.V.

I drove until I ran out of gas.

I have no clue where I'm at or where I'm going, I just need to get away and and get lost. Hopefully I'll never find my way back because this is as close to paradise as I've ever been.

Me and the open road.

No commitments.

Nothing holding me back.

I remember how I used to care about everything, and how I always helped others with their problems and left mine shoved in the closet. I remember when I was 4 and I'd run to my daddy crying wondering where mommy was, and even when she was there, why she didn't love me. I clenched my jaw at the memories and shook my head trying to rid myself of them. From Now on, I'm not letting anything or anyone put me down. I can't afford to let somebody catch me in such a vulnerable position ever again.

I refilled my gas tank and the last thought that ran through my mind before I took off was, 'I want to see him again, but will I be strong enough to know if he even remembers me or cares?' Tears started to run down my face as I hoped I would never run into that angel in disguise again, and sped up so I was flying down the highway forcing the wind and speed to numb the ache I felt deep in my chest.

Davey's P.O.V.

I couldn't get Dew out of my mind.

It's been a month now since she left and I haven't heard anything from or about her. I've been finding distractions to get her off my mind for a little bit longer, and it's getting easier to be distracted.

Yet somehow there's times when I can't forget and I find myself lost in thought, drifting away as I search my mind for any hint of where she could've gone and how she left me. I can't help but to keep asking myself why one person has such a strong effect on me after one meeting.

But then I remember how her face looked streaked with tears, and those eyes that struck my soul with their pain, crying out to be saved or damned to hell. I wonder how anybody could ignore that.

Often I catch myself with a pad and pencil in hand, writing about her, wondering and hoping if or when she'll come back because in those eyes I saw myself. I felt her pain, and I want to take it all away.

Dew's P.O.V. (Flashback)

I walk alone in the frigid night air along the abandoned street. I tugged my jacket closer and checked my phone for the time. 2:34 a.m. I groaned to myself and hope that the bitc- I mean witch is asleep. With a deep sigh I pull out my cigarettes and light one. I continue to walk towards my house, dreading what lay in wait for me there.

Throwing the finished cigarette away, I spotted my house and saw that the front light was on. Dragging my feet and straightening my shoulders I walk inside.

"Where's my money girl?" Were the first words out of my egg donors mouth.

"I don't have any." I quickly replied trying to bury my rage deep down.

"You were out all night, selling yourself and you don't have any money?!?" She screeched.

"I don't sell myself!" I yell, my anger boiling over.

"Shut the fuck up you dirty little slut. I'm done wasting my time on you. Next time I catch you whoring yourself out you better have some money to show me. If it wasn't for me you would be on the streets." With that said she stormed off to her bedroom.

When I hear her door slam closed, I run downstairs to my "room" which is basically my section of the basement blocked off with partition walls. I gently set my bag down and I stifle a scream as I punch the wall. But it's not enough. It's never enough. So I resort to the one thing that truly makes me feel better.

Davey's P.O.V.

I've locked myself away all alone to write. I write about the pain, the joy, and most of all I write about losing somebody close to you.

Seeing Dew lose her mother brought back my own memories of loss and now I can't seem to make the pain fade away. I worry about her and how she's doing. I know what being completely estranged from everything feels like. What living on the streets does to a person. It changes the way you think and it changes your body. It leaves mental and physical scars that never fade away.

And so I write, and wonder why I can't seem to forget the girl that only said two words to me, and had a soul full of demons.

A/N

Please remember that this is purely a work of fiction and I mean no offense to anybody. Davey was living on the streets as a teenager but beyond that I don't know what he went through, just what I personally went through. I incorporate a lot of my personal experiences into my stories to add an element of reality to try to connect with as many people as possible.

Auf Wiedersehen

~Jessi Lived <666