Cadaverous Love

Chapter Three

We step inside and he closes the door behind him.

"Thanks, Dallas."

"Whatever," he says. I sit down on the couch and try to focus on the entwining of the fabric. I breathe in slowly, doing my best not to cry. Dallas sits down next to me, "It's real shitty of them to do that to you."

I shrug, "yeah, but worse things have happened to better people." I sigh and lean my head back.

"That's kind of shitty too," he responds, "to think nothin' matters because other people have gone through stuff too."

"I guess so," I nod, closing my eyes.

"You doin' alright over there?" There's sarcasm laced in his voice but not as much as I expected.

"Yeah, I'm fine," My voice cracks at the end, and I can't hold them in any longer. The tears start pouring down my face.

I cry until I can breathe again, "what're you crying for?" He asks, annoyed and oblivious.

"Everything's falling apart," I say miserably, already regretting talking to him about something so serious to me.

"You gotta make sure nothin' gets to you, man," he says.

I sniffle and rub my arms, "I'm not sure how to not let things get to me, not when they're in my head." He rubs the back of his neck and gets to his feet, unable to answer. "Hey," I say, getting his attention, "even though I've heard about you and your record and all, you're not a bad guy."

He chuckles, "sure."

I close my eyes and breathe out slowly, letting myself drift to sleep.

--

"Emily," someone shakes me, "wake up, girl, come on, someone is here. I don't know 'em so I assumed that you do." I open my eyes and see Dallas walking over to the door.

"What does he look like?" I ask sleepily.

"I don't know, he's tall, kind of old and he has blonde hair. Kind of angry looking-"

"Shit. Dallas, act like I'm not here." I stand quickly, my heart beating faster.

"Why?"

"Please," I breathe out, "Just do it." I hide behind the kitchen counter as he opens the door.

"Can I help ya?" Dallas asks.

"Is my daughter here?," a familiar voice booms from the doorway, "'cause I'd like a word with her."

"What? No, you've got the wrong place." Dal defends, "now, scram you big idiot."

"I don't have the wrong place. This is the Curtis's house." My father's voice raises.

"Who?" Dal's voice is loud, "you know what? Never mind. Get the fuck off of my property."

"It's not your property. Can I come in?"

"No," Dal says almost as a question, "this isn't an open house, shit head. You can't come in. We-" I hear my dad push Dallas out of the way and his big shoes hit the soft wood beneath him. "You better get the fuck out of my house before I make you get out."

"As far as I'm concerned- this isn't your house. Where is she?"

"Who?"

"My daughter, numb skull."