New York, 1959
The night was cold as the sound of gun shots and dogs barking echoed through the dimly lit street. I was curled up on the floor of our worn down, two room apartment. My Father was passed out on the couch. He drank to much to even beat me. My mother was gone, no where to be found. I stared up at the ceiling as the absence of sirens made me feel uncomfortable. The police didn't even bother coming on this side of town any more. They figure the people who live here just aren't worth saving, I would have to agree. My daze was suddenly broke by the cries of pain coming from across the hall. I knew one of Ciara's mom's boyfriends, was beating her and my eyes glared at the ceiling with hate. Ciara was my age, and she lived with her mom, who like most people on this side of town, took lots of drugs and dated lots of abusive men.
"Mommy make him stop!" I heard her cry , but I couldn't do anything about it which killed me. I knew her mother wouldn't do anything about it either because she would want to spare herself a beating. Finally the cries stopped and I heard a door open and slam. I quickly rushed to the hallway to find Ciara, mangled up and bloody. There wasn't anything I could do but drag her outside to our special corner and cradle her. She wasn't breathing right and it was scaring me, nobody had ever beaten her this hard before. When she started to blink into consciousness I saw the hurt and hate in her eyes. Even if somebody where to come and save her now, I knew she was doomed with hate she loathed against men, and her own mother. She blinked as her focus steadied on me and she hugged me. In that moment, as I felt her blood seep in my shirt, something snapped. A beast behind my eyes finally showed itself to the world. There was no saving me anymore as the hate swallowed me whole. From that night I would be a criminal. A hated soul. A new and doomed Dallas Winston. But, at least I wouldn't be truly alone.
