Lose Your Mind-A Dallas Winston Fanfiction

The Stinging Truth

It should never be your job to pick up the pieces of a broken man or to housebreak one. There are far better things you can do with your time.- Alice Walsh, A Poker Game of Love

We slung Dallas into Bobs car and he rode the whole way with his head resting against my shoulder. His shaggy brown hair tickled my neck, but I didn't have the heart to pull away. I wanted so badly to push his bangs out of his eyes, but something inside me wouldn't allow it. I no longer had time for small gestures that meant the world to him. Something inside me knew better.

"Where are we going?" He grumbled, yawning.

"Where do you think?" I said, meaning the words to come out dripping with sarcasm, but they only sounded gentle.

"Well, I reckon the Curtis's." He gave a slight chuckle before falling silent again.

I wondered who could have drugged him. Sure, he had enemies, he was Dallas Winston after all. His list of enemies was about as long as his rap sheet down at the station. But, what was the point of drugging him? That was the part I couldn't figure out. I wished H would have been there with me that night. I was sure he would have known.

Bob pulled up to the curb, allowing Soda and I to essentially grab and then drag Dallas into the house. I shouted Bob a goodbye as I shut the screen door behind me.

"You can put him in my room. It's got a lock on the inside. I don't want him getting out there. " Darry explained when we dropped Dallas down on the couch.

I had never been in Darry's room, not once. The door at the end of the hall was always pulled shut and no one dared open it. Not even Soda.

"Okay." I mumbled, walking with Dallas up the squeaky steps.

I nervously walked towards the end of the short hallway, until my hand reached the cool brass doorknob.  I twisted it, and the door fell open.

A plain bed laid in the center of the room, and barely anything else inhabited it. A scratched dresser was pushed against one side, but that was it. A few work boots were stacked against the wall, along with one lone book.

"Come on Dally, lets get you into bed."

"Dirty girl." he grinned, but I only rolled my eyes and pulled him along.

He sat down at the end of the bed without argument, and I looked around the room once more. There was a small picture frame resting on the dresser. I picked it up, and even though I had never seen the faces before I recognized them immediately.  The man resembled Darry too much to be anyone else.  They had to be his parents. It looked like a wedding picture, with the woman in a white dress that flowed down the small church aisle and the man in an ironed suit. The woman had hair the same color as Soda's, but it fell to her shoulders in loose curls. The mans hair was short and shaven evenly on the sides.

This was the picture Darry looked at before he slept, a picture of the people he missed most in the world. Suddenly, I felt angry for him and that his childhood had been taken from him at such a young age and in such a harsh manner. Growing up hadn't been a choice for him, it was forced upon him like a cold sharp blade.

"What are you lookin' at?" Dallas whined from the bed.

"Nothin'." I suddenly felt like I was poking my nose where I didn't belong. "Go to bed."

"I don't sleep good when you're not here." He looked at me with glassy eyes.

"Come on then." I pulled back the quilt for him and he slipped underneath it.

I sat at the head of the bed with my knees pulled to my chest, all wrapped up by my arms. If he was sober he never would have let me treat him that way. He would laugh at the idea, then spit and walk away. There was just something about him that didn't like the idea of being cared for by other people. The harshness of the world had mutated the part of his heart where love belonged.

"Are you leaving in the morning?" He asked, after I hit the light switch that laid next to the night stand.

"I figure I might as well stick around." I whispered.

"Stay forever." He muttered, rolling onto his left side.

I wished so badly I had the ability to lie like I used to. If I did I could tell him that of course I would, I would never leave him. But I guess I just didn't have the lying skills like I used to. Somewhere along the line I had started telling the truth and I couldn't stop.

"You'd be a fool if you thought I would do that." I spoke in a quiet tone a few minutes later.

But it didn't matter, Dallas was already asleep.