Chapter 1
Dahlia exhaled the smoke from her cigarette. It was an old fashioned, chemical galore in paper thing, the best she often thought. She heard the possibility of getting cancer from cigarettes is high but she couldn’t care less. She imagined a terrible fate would be perfect for someone like her. To be in pain while her body got overrun by tremors. It repulsed yet interested her. To end up like grandmother wasn’t something she looked forward to, but History tended to repeat itself. History was direct and why would she be the one to change to it? She wasn’t the one who was going places, that boat already sailed with her sister. Dahlia wasn’t going to chase a dream, she would rather her sister be the one to get that opportunity.
After all, most people never took her seriously, not until the end at least. Hadn’t she been almost on the receiving end from douchebags who lost more than their prides when she was done? Guys thinking a girl like her who was half African American and Japanese American would just be a sexual object? Ha! They came with unwelcomed hands and left with deep scars. Dahlia knew she didn’t have to cut them, could have just protected herself and went on her way but what was the fun in that? There was no fun in just self protection, no fear of death, just an arrogant defeat. She wanted to see the look in their eyes when they thought they would die. Hell, she loved the look of realization that they would die more, the way the light just faded an-
She feels a presence behind her belatedly. Damn, she’s losing her edge. She takes another drag from her cigarette, hearing the familiar click clack of Carlo’s shoes. As she exhales the smoke she wonders what he wants this time. Even after after not seeing him for a while this is familiar.
His snort of a laugh eases her nerves, which she hates. “Hey doll, watcha been up to?” Dahlia doesn’t answer, knowing he isn’t done talking. After a few minutes he sighs and launches into a long familiar tirade of wondering why she doesn’t answer him even though they have known each other for a long time now.
Dahlia glances at him while he talks, noticing his suit is another new and clean thing. The only other change she sees would be the silver chain that clashes against his dark skin. His teeth are still as shiny as ever, like how slick his hair is but he looks older than the last time she had seen. Then again now he was now in charge of his newly discovered little brother. Dahlia didn’t blame him for being stressed out. It has been at least 3 years since she had seen at their job in Alabama, she wonders if he is still crying into pillows at night.
She drops her cigarette bud that has long gone out in the nearest trash can as he finishes his speech. The look he gives her reminds her of when they were younger and more naive. Of being 16 and stupidly in what they thought of as love. They both have come to terms in that aren’t meant to be together-romantically- but it didn’t stop Carlo from being her friend. And how he tried to prove it: not just by jumping Rufioh after he broke her heart for the third time, or when he save Anri from their way of life, nor when took care of her when she broken far too many bones. It was too much and even though Dahlia had done the same things at the same rate if not more. It was never enough.
So when she saw that look, the one she had been seeing she they met, she couldn’t help but know she was going him in whatever crazy he had planned.