Disclaimer: This is in no way sanctioned by MTV, Viacom or Bruce Springsteen

Disclaimer: This is in no way sanctioned by MTV, Viacom or Bruce Springsteen.  I wrote it to please myself, and some kind-hearted readers. 

I don't think it's a secret that I adore Bruce Springsteen.  I got this idea for a fic listening to endless replays of Thunder Road, Prove it all Night and Born to Run.  I'll admit it's weird, and that I've lifted some of his poetry wholesale, but I hope that the result, although experimental, is also enjoyable.

Born to Run

Ruthless Bunny

Daria looked over at Quinn and sighed.  Quinn was again, brushing her hair.  Didn't she ever get tired of it?  Didn't she have anything better to do?  No.  There was never anything better to do.  Just another boring day in New Jersey.  Trent was supposed to come over later to take her for a drive to the river.  Daria thought about what the future held for her.  Graduation was coming up soon.  She had been working part time at the drug store, but was that all there was going to be?  Go full time, get married, start a family.  It suffocated her worse than August. 

Daria walked out to the porch.  She turned a small boom box on, and listened to the music as it lilted across the cool night air.   Daria didn't have many choices.  Stay here, with her family, her friends, with Trent.  Or disappear into the night.  But where, Atlantic City?  Was that the best dream she could dream for herself?  Atlantic City?  

She gazed at the scrubby lawn, and Route Nine in the distance.  Where could that take her?  Where did she want to go?  Was there only salvation in driving fast, loud music and Trent's kisses?  Was salvation enough to last her the rest of her life?  Quinn joined her on the porch.

"Hey, is Trent coming by?"  She asked as she ran her fingers through her freshly brushed hair.

"Later. After work."

"You think he could drop me over at Wendy's house?"

"Sure.  You guys going to the dance tonight?"

"Yeah, what else have we got to do?" 

And that summed it all up.  Was life meant to be lived like that?  Daria could see the cloud of dust in the distance, and could make out the blue outline of Trent's Nova.  She went in the house to finish getting ready.

In their bedroom, she got a white ribbon and tied up her thick, long hair.  She stared at her image, trying to see herself.  As Trent drove up, Quinn hustled in the room to finish getting ready, and Daria danced across the porch as the radio played.  She got into the front seat with Trent.  He looked tired, but happy to see her. 

"Hey, mind if we drop Quinn at her friend's house?"  She asked after greeting him with a kiss.

"No problem. She almost ready?"  Just as he asked she appeared at the door.  She let herself into the back seat, and they took off down the road to Wendy's house. 

Quinn was also a pretty girl, too pretty for this town.  She dated for sport, and unlike her girlfriends did not entertain thoughts of marrying right out of high school.  She often dated men from the city, and they gave her presents.  Quinn liked nice things, and she wasn't afraid to do what she had to, to get them.  Quinn planned on leaving town, and never looking back. 

They dropped her at the curb and continued on.  Trent drove into the night, the sky a streaky indigo, as the last vestiges of the sun dipped behind the dynamo.  Trent and Daria rarely spoke to each other.  What was there to say? 

At dusk like this, the road had a mystical quality.  Like those two lanes could take them anywhere.  They drove as the radio played, wind blowing back her hair. 

They finally got to the quiet spot near the river.  No need to get out of the car.  Trent reached back for his guitar, and began to play a melody for her.  Daria closed her eyes and let the music wash over her.  The lapping of the water and Trent's quiet playing, this was the only nice thing about her life.  These sounds.

Trent leaned over to kiss her.  His kisses were desperation.  Searching for his soul, and hers.  Daria's misery overtook her.  Her hunger for him was driven by desire and desolation.

"Trent, what are we doing?"

He stopped for a moment.  He knew what she meant. "The only thing that makes me happy?"

"Are you really happy?  Can I ever make you happy?"  He knew it was true.  He wasn't happy with Daria, he was less unhappy with her.  "Trent, I want something.  I want my life.  The life I'm supposed to have.  I have a destiny.  I just know it.  It's not here, and it's not this, but somewhere my life is waiting for me, and I have to discover it."

"What are you going to do?"

"I've got to leave.  I've got to search.  I don't know exactly, but whatever it is, I can't wait for it to come to me. I think I'm going to go to California."  Her words startled her.  California?  She had never even been to California.  The idea scalded her, but she knew that she had to go.  She cried with the realization, frightened that she had to act to save her life.

"If we're together we can live with the sadness, I'll love you with all the madness in my soul."  He whispered.  Frantic to keep her with him, knowing she was already gone, and with her, his glimpse at happiness.

They clutched at each other, like so many other nights.  Hoping that one small moment of ecstasy would erase the sadness that they lived everyday.

Only a few mornings later, Daria packed her suitcase, and walked across the porch for the last time.  From her front porch, to her front seat, the door was open, and she was free. 

Someday girl, I don't know when,

We're gonna get to that place

Where we really want to go

And we'll walk in the sun

But till then tramps like us

Baby we were born to run.