Hey guys, please R&R. I made up a little town and Mexico for this chapter; so don't worry if you think, "I've never heard of that...". Thanks.
Shay.
Chapter 2 "Sugar"
She wiped the last tears away from her face. Dasha sat in the dark, alone as usual, curled up in her velvet chair. It was that type of velvet that's been worn out, the type of velvet that you can tell has been loved. The chair was the exact contrast of Dasha and that's why she kept it around, to remind her of what she never had. The chair became her sanctity. Subconsciously she rubbed at the deep scar on her leg under her jeans. It was one of the few wounds she hadn't given to herself. Her father, the man she hated with the most passion she had in her heart, had given it to her when she was 12. He had been drunk as usual and Dasha had gotten in the way of the TV, it started off by him just punching her in the mouth but Dasha was stubborn, she never sat and took something like that. She broke a beer bottle off the top of his head sending him into a rage. He chased Dasha into the kitchen but was too drunk to keep up with her, he pulled his knife out of his pocket and sliced her through her pants right above her ankle sending her crashing to the ground where he proceeded to beat her bloody until she was unconscious. Dasha remembered waking up in her parent's bedroom where her mother was stitching up her ankle with a needle and thread and the two cried. It was one of the few moments that Dasha felt the same way as her mother did. She pitied her mother, because she never got away from her dad, she thought that him beating her all the time was all right. But he couldn't hurt either one of them anymore. Dasha hadn't seen her mom since she was 14 after she had killed her father. She prayed some nights that she was alright but knew that her mom had probably just moved on to some other guy that hit her just as much if not more.
Sometimes she wished she could stop the pain that she felt, just end it all and be good to herself for once. Dasha tried, but it was like sugar to her, she hurt herself a little and then it sent her on a sickening high, she couldn't stop until the high crashed. It was like she became a whole other person, when she was hurting herself she didn't care about anything at all except the pain she felt and the pain felt good, until she came down from the high, the crash was the worst feeling. She cried every time, she hated her soft side. She had killed her own father but cried after she hurt herself, what a hypocrite. On the outside she was such a hard person but she could easily crumble which made it hard for her to get into relationships, her past not helping. Dasha couldn't easily go out with a guy and then tell him "Oh by the way I killed my father when I was fourteen, do you want to go see a movie tomorrow?" and because of this she had a lot of one-nighters, and it was always she who left in the morning and never called. Most of it was for fun now, she thought it was sort of fun to lead a guy on now and then ditch him. Her hard exterior hid the fact that she was only a scared little girl on the inside.
Dasha stretched her legs and got up out of her chair and slowly trudged to the kitchen as she painfully peeled the glue of her arms. She got out a pot and put it on the stove making a watery box-kind of macaroni and cheese, she sat back down on the chair and sipped on a beer that would soon be followed by many more. The fact that she was becoming like her father made her just drink more, she could ignore it then. This was how her daily routine went.
Dasha turned on the TV and watched the news. She had stopped seeing her name on it a long time ago, for a while she had guessed that the cops had stopped looking for her. But cops never did that. Cases would be past on until the end of time with the hope that that elusive person would be caught. She vowed that would never happen to her, she had learned her lesson to stay hidden when she was caught when she was 16. She had been arrested for dealing but wasn't even doing it. Dasha was waiting to catch a bus and a deal was going on about two feet behind her; she didn't even know what was going on until the cops cuffed her. She got away but figured the next time wouldn't be so lucky; she fled to Mexico as fast as she could.
*Meanwhile*
Xander had to catch a plane in about an hour. He was supposed to get off in Mexico City and meet a guy named Alonzo to pick up his car. From Mexico City he would drive to Guilera, a small town where Gibbons said Dasha had been hiding. She worked at a café and he was supposed to run into her there. He loved how much Gibbons hoped for the best with him.
Shay.
Chapter 2 "Sugar"
She wiped the last tears away from her face. Dasha sat in the dark, alone as usual, curled up in her velvet chair. It was that type of velvet that's been worn out, the type of velvet that you can tell has been loved. The chair was the exact contrast of Dasha and that's why she kept it around, to remind her of what she never had. The chair became her sanctity. Subconsciously she rubbed at the deep scar on her leg under her jeans. It was one of the few wounds she hadn't given to herself. Her father, the man she hated with the most passion she had in her heart, had given it to her when she was 12. He had been drunk as usual and Dasha had gotten in the way of the TV, it started off by him just punching her in the mouth but Dasha was stubborn, she never sat and took something like that. She broke a beer bottle off the top of his head sending him into a rage. He chased Dasha into the kitchen but was too drunk to keep up with her, he pulled his knife out of his pocket and sliced her through her pants right above her ankle sending her crashing to the ground where he proceeded to beat her bloody until she was unconscious. Dasha remembered waking up in her parent's bedroom where her mother was stitching up her ankle with a needle and thread and the two cried. It was one of the few moments that Dasha felt the same way as her mother did. She pitied her mother, because she never got away from her dad, she thought that him beating her all the time was all right. But he couldn't hurt either one of them anymore. Dasha hadn't seen her mom since she was 14 after she had killed her father. She prayed some nights that she was alright but knew that her mom had probably just moved on to some other guy that hit her just as much if not more.
Sometimes she wished she could stop the pain that she felt, just end it all and be good to herself for once. Dasha tried, but it was like sugar to her, she hurt herself a little and then it sent her on a sickening high, she couldn't stop until the high crashed. It was like she became a whole other person, when she was hurting herself she didn't care about anything at all except the pain she felt and the pain felt good, until she came down from the high, the crash was the worst feeling. She cried every time, she hated her soft side. She had killed her own father but cried after she hurt herself, what a hypocrite. On the outside she was such a hard person but she could easily crumble which made it hard for her to get into relationships, her past not helping. Dasha couldn't easily go out with a guy and then tell him "Oh by the way I killed my father when I was fourteen, do you want to go see a movie tomorrow?" and because of this she had a lot of one-nighters, and it was always she who left in the morning and never called. Most of it was for fun now, she thought it was sort of fun to lead a guy on now and then ditch him. Her hard exterior hid the fact that she was only a scared little girl on the inside.
Dasha stretched her legs and got up out of her chair and slowly trudged to the kitchen as she painfully peeled the glue of her arms. She got out a pot and put it on the stove making a watery box-kind of macaroni and cheese, she sat back down on the chair and sipped on a beer that would soon be followed by many more. The fact that she was becoming like her father made her just drink more, she could ignore it then. This was how her daily routine went.
Dasha turned on the TV and watched the news. She had stopped seeing her name on it a long time ago, for a while she had guessed that the cops had stopped looking for her. But cops never did that. Cases would be past on until the end of time with the hope that that elusive person would be caught. She vowed that would never happen to her, she had learned her lesson to stay hidden when she was caught when she was 16. She had been arrested for dealing but wasn't even doing it. Dasha was waiting to catch a bus and a deal was going on about two feet behind her; she didn't even know what was going on until the cops cuffed her. She got away but figured the next time wouldn't be so lucky; she fled to Mexico as fast as she could.
*Meanwhile*
Xander had to catch a plane in about an hour. He was supposed to get off in Mexico City and meet a guy named Alonzo to pick up his car. From Mexico City he would drive to Guilera, a small town where Gibbons said Dasha had been hiding. She worked at a café and he was supposed to run into her there. He loved how much Gibbons hoped for the best with him.