Imagine : Dallas

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DALLAS'S POV

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DALLAS'S POV

Sometimes, I just end up in situations and I don't know how I got there or how to get out of them. I don't know how hard I fall until it's rock bottom. I wasn't trying to wreck her life, I just wanted mine to be better. God, when I met her, all the songs I liked had new meaning. Salty foods tasted sweet.

Liberty, or as I liked calling her Libby, was a real uptown girl and liked getting wild any way she could. Problem was, she never had real tastes of freedom until she met me, kinda ironic, huh? She had some real uptight parents that got worried sick when I started pickin' her up for dates almost every weekend. Most girls that had parents with sense got scared when I started comin' around. I'm the kid no parent in their right mind wants their kid to become.

Libby's parents started keeping her home more, sayin' she couldn't go out for some dumb reason. I knew it was all bull because they was scared. That was when Libby learned how t' climb out a window without breaking her arm. It was the first domino that lead into a downward spiral, but a fun one at that.

Libby and I liked goin' to rodeos in the summer nights after maybe a day of hangin' around in my room under the sheets and doin' nothing but smoking and drinking whatever we had. The Greaser and Soc fad's still swingin' here in Tulsa, but I'm smart enough to know it ain't gonna last since other towns are gettin' into the whole hippie thing.

The hippies in New York preached about all sorts o' things. God, Buddha, the universe as an all powerful being. But they liked their speed and weed, man. Libby and I started gettin' into some of life's anesthesia as a way to just have fun. Maybe it wasn't such a great idea, but we did whatever we had our hands on and got it however we could. Good ol' Liberty had only one rule, no killing. Worked for me though, because I didn't have the time to hide no bodies and she wouldn't be much help with buryin' 'em. I also had to help a good buddy of mine get out of a murder charge and that was no slice of cake.

Man, late sixties sure were a time to be around. Libby and I mighta been together on and off for two years. We met when I was 17 going on 18 and she was almost 17. We had some real good times, even if we weren't on anything. Had good times at parties, in my car, in her room in the middle of the night, anywhere there was for two teens crazy 'bout each other to have fun was where we could be found.

I loved that girl and it all started going south when she moved in. I had gotten bored of Tulsa so we went to California. That was a wild ride too, filled with booze and adventures, and drugs. Libby and I had great times with our new friends and even went on heists to get them when money got tight. We sometimes dealed and Libby sometimes had to sell herself to get money. God, I always felt real sorry for her when she had to do it. I always made sure to be close by, but watchin' her go off in a stranger's car was real heartbreaking. Libby had this broken, puppy dog look on her face afterwards and didn't want me to touch her for days until she'd recovered.

Then we learned she was knocked up, presumably my kid. Cops frequently came by to question us and our friends because they had a feelin' we were robbin' the drugstores. I always found a way to stump 'em and everything was sorted out. Libby and I tried to stop using so the baby wouldn't get hurt. We quit cold turkey and tried smoking to keep up with our bad aching for something powerful. We were irritable and got into a fight about anything. One fight made me realize she was miscarryin', but Libby somehow didn't notice until I pointed out the bleeding.

We lost the baby. It couldn't survive. Liberty and me spent the whole night laying on the hospital cot and holding our dead kid. It still wasn't enough to make us want to quit. Libby's parents eventually visited us and knew right off the bat we was addicted to anything. Maybe the house smelled funky, I never noticed anyway.

They took Libby away from me and that just made me use more and more. I ended up getting shot by a junkie that needed a fix I wouldn't give him. On my way to the hospital, I remember smirking a bit. Despite the burning pain, I just had a very small smile. When I was in the hospital, Libby came to see me. Seein' her with a less bones showing and without dark circles under her eyes was somethin' so beautiful the best painter couldn't paint it.

I never saw Liberty again, but I see reminders of her almost everyday. If I was ever gonna get married to any girl, it'd be her. You know me, though, I ain't the type to settle down. I still do rodeos and I travel. I've been to just about every state and I still have some freebies when it comes to having a fix. I know it ain't good, but it's better than where I started. Without Libby, hell, Lord knows I'd be dead by now. She kept me alive and made my life better. I didn't want to mess her life up, but it's just what happens when a black and damned soul meets an angel... it heals.

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