𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 🦋

take care || dallas (fluff)

❧ credits to littlewolfdiaries 🥰 ☙

Keeping the secret was hard, but remaining cool and composed was even harder. It was easy to lie now, because I'd isolated myself so much.

I don't think they believed my lies at first but, damn, we were telling them good towards the end.

It was raining real hard. That only made a mess of the blood caked on my skin. If I stayed in one place too long, I could create a blood puddle. Crimson blood from various wounds swirled with said water, looking sophisticated against the ebony, cracked cement of the lonely, dreary street. I sort of wanted to take a picture.

I tried to count the number of friends I had and came up blank. My new friends needed just as much shelter as I did. But when we're all together, it's a gas. Why's it like that? Why's it like that if none of us are truly happy?

Dallas Winston was bound to be at Buck Merril's. I hoped to Hell he wasn't at Tim Shepard's, even if it was unlikely, because then I'd know pain a lot better than I did now.

It was Angela's fault that I got tied up with that loser. A prey in his silk spider web. How was this my fault, all of a sudden? Tim couldn't stand the sight of me now because he knew it was his sister who did it. Most of it, anyway. Destroyed a good, quiet kid.

"I need to see Dallas," my voice was barely above a whisper. Not because it hurt to speak, I was just so goddamn ashamed. I was wearing Pony's navy zip-up sweater. It was huge on me, now. It used to be my size. What happened to me?

He was right when he said it was my fault, wasn't he? Not Tim, but Him.

I knew that tonight would mean nothing in the means of escaping, because once the prey is captured it's already dead.

Doesn't help that my brothers can't stand me, either.

"Glory, girl, he's upstairs — I'll go 'n get him."

I waited by the door like the stupid girl I was. I had no where else to go, and coming to Dallas Winston had become a daydream and not a nightmare. I remembered how he used to scare me with his rings and cigarettes. Then I remembered how he used to hold me. 

He came down looking annoyed. His blonde hair was sticking to his forehead but I knew better than to assume. He was sleeping, of course. Wasn't he?

He didn't have a shirt on — not that the foolish teenage girl in me minded — he was wearing a pair of his favorite low-cut jeans. They had a rip in the knee.

"He hit me," it spilled from my lips. Everything was spilling and I couldn't keep it back. "He hit me and it hurt this time —"

"The fuck do you mean 'it hurt this time'? What the fuck is wrong with you, you dumb broad?" He ran a hand through his long hair and grabbed my arm.

I hissed, but he didn't notice.

"You were right, okay?" I yelled, ready to fight. Not even a second ago I was crying, now I was daring Dally to try and take a swing at me. I yanked my arm from his grasp as we headed up the stairs. "What're you gonna do, huh? Call my brothers?"

"Maybe I will!" He snapped, whipping open the door to his bedroom. I expected to see some girl, but the bed was empty.

I didn't know what I wanted. I just wanted somewhere to stay, not to be criticized. It was funny, because Dallas of all people would know what being hurt then insulted would feel like. Didn't he know I couldn't take this anymore?

I stood, leaning against the wall. There was a puddle forming on the ground, my hair was dripping. Dallas sat on the corner of his bed with his head in his hands. "What's your problem, man? You want me to leave and I will, okay? I just wanted somewhere to stay."