Music came thumping out of his speakers, his room filling to the brim with smoke. Dacre pushed himself off of his bed, the dark blue comforter wrinkled from where he had sat, and he strode over to his closet, reaching for the bags he had packed the night before. He shoved his wallet in his pocket, the leather stretching more than it should've to hold the amount of cash he had been withdrawing from various people's bank accounts including his own mother's, and popped his door open, putting his cigarette out with a small hissing noise against his doorframe. The butt fell to the floor, leaving just a black circle to decorate the white paint, joining all the other remains of his cigarettes.
Dacre stomped down the creaky stairs, the weight of his body bending the wood beneath him. He hauled the bag over his shoulder as he approached the bottom floor.
"Dacre, where are you going?" His mother called from the kitchen, her forehead slicked with sweat from the heat coming from the oven. Ever since Sadie was kidnapped, as she thought of it, she distracted her mind with baking and she had gotten quite good. She pushed her fly aways that had stuck to her forehead back from her face and looked expectantly at her son.
"Just our, mother, and don't stay up. I'll be gone for a while," he said, taking an apple strudel from her pan and taking a large bite. She made a move to stop him, but he pulled away and walked towards the door.
"Dacre, please!" She called behind him. "Please!"
He cut her off with the slam of the front door and he threw his bag in the backseat of the car. He unzipped it and reached in to pull out a handgun, shiny and black with the safety on but still looked menacing. He put it in the waistband of his jeans and rezipped the bag, shutting the car door with a dull thud and hopping into the driver's seat. Dacre pressed around the old wound, now gnarled and bright pink in layers of healing skin, a small bump from the bullet that was still inside after refusing to go to the hospital, and he hit the gas pedal, the only thing on his mind was revenge to the girl who had shot him.
-
Her hair splayed out behind her like a bright red drape against the yellowing pillow case of the newest motel room. Sadie's hands wandered up Millie's exposes skin, sliding past the lacey bra Sadie had stolen for her just a month ago. Her pale fingertips made their way past Millie's collar bones and up into her hair, which had grown considerably since they first met, the ends now brushing just above her shoulders in soft chocolate waves. Sadie's fingers found themselves entwined in it, pulling the other girl impossibly closer to her.
"Jesus, Darling," Millie sighed against the red head, her accent particularly thick. She nipped at Sadie's lower lip gently, pulling away slightly and allowing her eyes to flutter open. "You're too good to me."
"I'd do anything for you," Sadie said, and she meant it. She knew she got impatient and hotheaded at times but the truth is, Millie or Rose, she'd die for the girl if she had to.
"But you don't have to," Millie protested. She sat up so she was straddling Sadie's thighs and pushed her red hair behind her ear. Sadie pushes herself up and rested on her elbows, looking up at the other girl. "But I want to."
Millie shook her head, then placed it in her palms. She shook her head for a moment, trying to process the girl underneath her. She lifted it again and looked directly into Sadie's soft blue eyes, larger than life and staring right back at her. "You could've stayed there. You could still go back." Millie said.
"I don't think you're understanding." Sadie said, then sat up fully and placed a soft hand so it was cupping Millie's face. "I would follow you anywhere. I'd follow you to the ends of the earth if I had to."
"You're so tired, Sadie," Millie tried again. The corners of her mouth unintentionally lowered and her eyes seemed to turn downwards. She sucked her lip between her teeth and bit down, still staring at Sadie. "You hate this."
