Two Sides of a Moon

In the Ghetto

It was a cold, cold night.

A mother is screams in pain as she's holding her husband's hand hard. He grimaces at how tight her hold is, wondering to himself how painful childbirth could be.

"It's okay baby, come on...push," he gasps to her, wiping sweat off her forehead. She closes her eyes as she screams.

The sudden sound of a crying child is heard. The husband looks at her woman, his eyes full of awe and happiness.

"Baby, look! You did it!" He smiles to her. He kisses the palm of her hand as she weakly smiles back at him.

"The baby--"she gasps through her pain," Let me see her."

The doctor interrupts with a grin,"No, it's a him."

The husband fists his hands in the air in victory,"Yaaas!" His wife rolls her eyes, still feeling weak. The doctor hands the wailing boy to the husband, who hands him to his wife.

"Oh my god," she cuffs her mouth, crying happily,"He's beautiful."

"He's got your eyes," the husband murmured to her softly,"A beautiful icy blue."

"He does, doesn't he?" She says softly, stroking the baby child's colorless eyebrows. She scoffs tenderly,"Watch him become a fighter when grows up. Look at the way he waves those hands!"

The innocent child cried and batted his hands everywhere innocently, his crying quieting as his mother held him tighter.

"Well Mrs. Winston, I hope you do have a name for the boy," the doctor says joyfully.

Her husband looks at her, and then back at the doctor,"His name'll be Dallas. Dallas Tucker Winston."

"Yes," Mrs. Winston chokes out, feeling a sudden pain. Her husband could see pain in her face. The doctor worriedly looks at her.

"Ma'am? Are you alright?" The doctor asks. Her husband looks at the doctor with panic in his own eyes,"What's going on?"

"I-i-i don't know! This never happened before!" He yells back, fear in his voice.

"ARGHHHHHH!!!" she begins to scream again. She helplessly reaches for her husband's hand. The baby cries almost as loud.

"Well FUCKIN' DO SOMETHING! YOU'RE A DOCTOR!!!"the father yelled, lunging at the doctor. He thrusts him against the wall," DO SOMETHING!" His cry was desperate and needy.

"Dallas..." The woman whispers in hopeless quivering breaths. Her husband runs back to her, pushing her blonde hair back.

"It's gonna be okay baby, stay with me. Stay with me baby, don't do this to me,"he begs his head beginning to feel hazed.

"I-i-it hurt-s-s-s," she gasps, trying to hold on to life. She begins to mouth a few words, but her lips stop moving as her last choking breath finally escapes. Her husband stares at her in utter and angry confusion, trying to tell himself this wasn't happening.

"Honey? Hey. Hey! Don't do this to me baby--not now, not like this," he hisses frantically. He starts to get impatient, "Real funny, so typical of you hon...HEY! WAKE UP!" His voice trembles as he whispers,"How dare you, don't leave me here. I don't wanna be alone. Not again. Never again."

He helplessly cries on the lifeless body of his fallen wife. He screams in neglect, hoping that for some reason she'll wake up. He finally notices his newborn's cries.

"SHUT UP!" he yells at the boy. The boy stops, fear in his own eyes. The husband looks around for the doctor, but he's nowhere to be found. He glares at his son.

"You did this," he hisses to him, hot tears beginning to dry,"You little rat...You killed her. She's....dead, you happy?! Huh? You little shit."

The child has no idea of what he has done, but he is cursed to belong he is bad. Years go by, since that cold November night, and everyday since his own birth the child's wrongly reminded of how pathetic he is. Of how useless he is. How he killed his own mother. And the boy dares not to cry because only the choices of belts or wrenches follow. The husband loses his mind since his wife died, blaming it all on his own son. And he wishes he could tear the eyes off the boy that reminded him so much of who he lost. The boy is forced to believe he's nothing but bad, and he learns reality at a young age. He learns the art of stealing and breaking the law.

The poor boy grows into an angry young man, hating how cruel the world he lives in is. Soon enough, when he feels real loss in his life at the age of only seventeen, he doesn't want to feel it again. He's just a kid...he didn't know. He didn't die a saint, but he died gallant on that cold, cold night.

So, what I'm trying to say about this story is maybe kind of give a back story of why Dally hated the world so much and how his dad hated him just as much. Hope you guys cried--I mean--liked!
Hehehe...