THE COLOR RED | DALLAS WINSTON

viii. BRUISES

PATCHY PURPLE, BLOTTED BLUE, RUBBED RED. Charlotte's hickey stood out like a murder scene in snow. Her skin looked ruined, tarnished. If anyone saw it, they'd wonder who it was that claimed her body as his own. Her hangover was painful... her head throbbed, her eyes seemingly hissed like a vampire in the light. Everything sucked... and it only got worse when she realized that she was going to see Brooklynn to go shopping.

Shopping was one of Brooklynn's hobbies and she never liked doing it alone... making Charlotte her shopping-victim/buddy several times a month. Brooklynn wasn't an excessive spender, she picked and chose carefully what it was she wanted. If there was one thing about Brooklynn's personality that was best was that she knew what she wanted, no matter what. Shopping was simply indicative of how she lived her life.

Charlotte had nicked some of her mother's concealer when she wasn't looking, not wanting to draw attention to Dallas's lovebite. As Charlotte looked through the racks of turtleneck sweaters, she let her mind wander through a valley of uncertainty. He hadn't called once since he'd gotten her drunk a week and a half ago. It was like he'd vanished off the face of the Earth. The only things Charlotte remembered from that night was pizza, booze, red lights, the stench of vomit, and a warm feeling where her hickey now sat.

His poison was on her body now, his territory was marked. Charlotte knew she couldn't let it show to the world. She was too much of a nobody for anyone to believe it was Dallas Winston that had given her the hickey. She was so quiet, so meek.

"Charlotte?"

"Hm?

"What's with all the turtlenecks?" Brooklynn asked, staring at the growing pile of turtleneck shirts with a cocked eyeball. It was still March and the brisk temperatures were going to change come late April, essentially rendering the warm clothes futile.

"Sharon Tate's been wearing them, I thought I'd give it a try." Charlotte replied with a simple hum in her voice.

Brooklynn didn't buy Charlotte's excuse, knowing her friend to not be the type to know all the latest fashion icons. Sure, she'd heard a few of the much more iconic names in their day and age, but she couldn't list them off the top of her head. Brooklynn had noticed a change or two in Charlotte's behavior, she looked more alert than usual, like a dog hearing a high frequency. Charlotte was usually laid back and well, more smiley. 

Charlotte finished her shopping and immediately changed into a black turtleneck. It clung to her chest and she finally saw a little more of what the greaser did. She was quite thin, her arms were bony and her chest almost looked hollow. Charlotte sighed softly, knowing she was going to have to eat, but at the same time, she was giving into what Dallas wanted. But, as uneducated as he seemed, he was right. And it sucked. 

Charlotte and Brooklynn's day of shopping was slow, but slow and steady eventually won the race. The only thing she really looked forward to while shopping was getting rides in Brooklynn's gray Pontiac GTO 1964. Gray was a nice change from red. Sure, it wasn't a very happy color, and it was somewhere between white's innocence and black's ominous threat of death, but it was something other than red. 

"I'm going on a date today..." Brooklynn said tentatively, noticing Charlotte still looked absent

"Yeah?" Charlotte replied in a gentle, cloudlike tone

Brooklynn nodded and noticed her friend didn't have any other questions. Charlotte wasn't into gossiping like other girls were, but she still liked knowing who it was that Brooklynn was going on a date with and some of the key details. She pulled into Charlotte's driveway, turning down the radio so she could speak. "You've been distant lately," She began, "what's going on?"

"Nothing." Charlotte shrugged

"Char, we've been friends since kindergarten. I know when there's something going on. You've been quiet lately, I just want to be sure you're okay."

"Sorry, I'm just feeling a little tired. I had a long night." She said softly, "I didn't mean anything by it."

Brooklynn nodded, feeling as though there was more to the story than Charlotte was letting on. "Well, if you need anything, let me know." She smiled kindly, watching Charlotte climb out. 

Charlotte walked inside her house and sighed the second she put the house keys in the bowl. She wasn't feeling well at all, and she felt sorry that Brooklynn felt hurt by the way she acted. She wanted to tell her about Dally, but she couldn't find it within herself to say 'Dallas Winston's been showing up at my house and he gave me a hickey while I was drunk.' None of it made sense, even this made no sense to Charlotte. She wanted him out of her life so he didn't seem close all the time, but she also enjoyed his company. 

As Charlotte looked in the mirror, peeling the turtleneck's cloth away from her skin, her stomach filled with butterflies. Like the bruise on her skin, Dallas had bruised her life. He'd made his mark. And when he'd fade like any bruise did, she wished she knew.