TWENTY EIGHT
d a l l a s

She waited downstairs for fifteen minutes, five after she'd heard the shower go off, before she stood up and took her cup to the sink and washed it out.

"It was lovely to chat to you," Dallas says to Simon's Mum as she sets the cup down on the side. "But I really do need to talk to Simon. Do you mind if I run up to see him?" She asks, gesturing to the door with her thumb, her silver ring glinting.

"No, no, not at all, dear. Go ahead, I'm sure he's done by now," She replies with a wave of her hand and a smile that made Dallas know for sure that she knew what was between her and Simon.

She knew it was more than friends, no matter how much Simon tried to convince her after Dallas had left after the meal three weeks ago. She'd seen it all.

"Thank you," Dallas says. "And if I don't see you before I leave, it was lovely to see you again."

"You too, you're always welcome here."

"I'll, um," Dallas's throat tightens and her voice is a mumble. "I'll remember that, thank you." And honestly she was truly grateful for the offer, even if it was common politeness, because she was everything Dallas had never had in her life.

Only now was she realising the absence in her life, in her soul, the shape of a mother figure. It was not a hole that could be simply filled by a father figure or a lover.

A mother's love was utterly irreplaceable, it choked her up to think that because she didn't know how long days like this would last. Days where the wound didn't feel so raw or open; where it was stitched up by tender touches, warm smiles and avid listening.

She feared home. She feared the white walls of her bedroom. Cold, lonely. She feared the hands that brought the physical pain, the lips that brought the verbal lashes. The stench of the alcohol on the red dresses and the scream of a mother with no love for her own daughter.

She feared the stitches being torn and shredded from her skin, the oozing blood and the complete and furious pain, physically and mentally. Her body ached with bruises and scars, her mind rung with agony.

As she reaches the top of the stairs, she has to steady herself in fear of falling backwards and tumbling to her death because, as much as Dallas hated a lot of things, she did not resent her life. In fact, she would do anything not to die young and wasted.

She wanted to grow old. She wanted to raise children of her own. Three of them, two boys and a little baby girl. All three of them she would cherish and adore, even when they didn't want her to because they did not want the embarrassment because ever fibre of her rebelled against growing into her mother's shoes.

Determination product of absence; rebellion fuelled by scars.

Dallas remembered the halls of this house well. Too many summer days were spent running through them, chasing after Simon or even her own brother, Adam. The three of them would laugh together, laughing until their ribs ached an their faces hurt.

In memory, tears spring to her eyes.

But she supresses them, like she'd been doing in the wake of his death, and continues to his door. Tapping her knuckles against the door softly, so softly.

"Come in," His voice calls.

She pushes open the door, pressing her lips together so they did not betray her in their trembling.

He is sat on the sofa beneath his window, his hand in his bag digging for something. His hair was a mess, towel dried she guessed, but there was nothing she wanted to do more than to run her hands through it.

Swallowing, she speaks. "Hey, I didn't want to come up too soon in case you were, you know, naked, but I'm ready to talk to you and to explain everything now," She pauses. "That is, if you're ready to listen to an extremely messed up version of events."

Simon's lips slant into a sideways smile. Not one of excitement, but of happiness and seemingly pride. "You know you can tell me anything, Dallas, we've known each other for too long for you to be this nervous about telling me something. I'm not going to judge you or cut you out because of your life. There's nothing you can say to me that would make me hate you."

"Thank you," She breathes, crossing the room and sinking onto the sofa beside him.

Simon closes his bag and tosses it to the side. He leans back into the sofa, but Dallas perches herself on the edge.

"There's a lot about me that you don't know, and probably would never have known if we'd never gotten closer again," She begins and is surprised by the strength in her own voice. When Simon slips his hand into hers, his hot fingers warming her frozen ones. "I don't know if you ever knew, but when Adam died my mum went into depression and my dad buried himself in his work. Luckily, my dad did not reach such extremes as mum did, but I didn't see him as much and I still don't see him as much.

"It made me sad to never have him there whenever I did well at something in school or in swimming or in dance. Maybe that's why I eventually quit dance, but anyway I don't think it effected me nearly as much as it effected mum. She was already depressed and when dad was around less and less she began to drink more.

"She's an alcoholic, Simon, an aggressive alcoholic." Dallas brushes her free fingers over her cheeks, over the yellowed bruise that lay beneath the make up. In that moment, the first tear connects with her hand and runs along the crease of her index finger. It was warm, passionate even. She drops her hand into her lap, folding it over Simon's hand which held hers.

He felt the tear on his hand, it was delicate and the sign of a girl who was broken and torn.

"All those times you told me it was just from when you'd been out partying or that you'd hit yourself by accident when you were at the gym, it was your mum?" Simon asks, his brow crumpling and his body jolting to sit up straight. He hated himself for believing her lies without question. "Why did you never tell me? We were best friends."

"You were happy. I didn't want to be the one to ruin everything you thought of me and of the world. It was better to see you looking at me as if I were still the Dallas Edlen I used to be, not who I've become."

"You should have told me."

"It's not that easy. Do you know how much I had to prepare myself to come here to tell you today? I was thinking about it all day." Her body shakes with a sudden sob and all at once her exterior shatters. "I don't want to be like this."

"Dallas, you're one of the strongest people I know," Simon tells her, his blue eyes racing across her ruptured expression. He lets go of her hand, taking her face into his hands. His thumbs brush away the tears with such care and love that Dallas feels the realisation like an earthquake in her world.

Her body falls into his, her arms wrapping around him and holding him to herself until there was simply no space in between. She was a billion little pieces in his arms, her chin on his shoulder and her tears running rivers of emotion down her cheeks. His hands hold her just as tightly and if he could have given her even just a little piece of her happiness, he would've because she meant everything to him in that moment of time and to her, he was all she'd ever hoped for.

Just someone who loved you unconditionally. Who was always there with open arms and listening ears. It wasn't just a mother figure she craved, it was love.

"Thank you," She whispers to him as they sit there just holding each other with no clear want to let go. "Thank you so much."

"You're going to be ok, Dallas, I promise."

"I'm going to be ok." She smiles, pulling herself back from the hug to look him in the eyes. "I promise."

-

this was a longer chapter but I wanted to write in joy of finally being on a week break from school! also, there's probably not a lot of chapters left but who knows?