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Post by Teddy<3 on Dec 25, 2010 5:56:38 GMT -5
Lacey stopped when she heard the Drip call to her. She turned and watched him run up to her, the urge to scold him for running while injured building as he finally stopped in front of her, panting.
Stree. Stree Hatchet. she thought to herself as he told her his name. It did sound familiar. But she couldn't remember sitting in front of him. She couldn't remember much from her high school years.
Lacey stood on her tiptoes, reaching up and pushing Stree's hood back from his head. The shock of blonde hair was immediately familiar, she remembered making fun of his hair behind his back. His eyes also brought back memories. she did remember sitting in front of him in English.
"Hello Stree Hatchet," Lacey said softly, a small smile crawling on her face. He couldn't know the many thoughts she had had about him. A very small few pleasant.
Looking at him, Lacey couldn't believe he was in a gang. The kid she used to sit in front of never seemed like trouble to her. She had never thought him to be a murderer.
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Post by Jazmin on Dec 25, 2010 22:16:43 GMT -5
Stree flinched as Lacey pushed his hood back. He didn't want her to see him after so long. But he didn't stop her, letting his hood flop against his back. The cool night air teased through his hair, caressing his face. He felt colder without his hood. He wanted to turn away, to hide the scar that had long been with him. He was self conscious about it most of the time. But he held his ground.
"Hello, Lacey," he said politely, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He slouched slightly, a habit he picked up from being around his mother. She was short, like Lacey, and she liked when he slouched to seem shorter.
Mom, his mind echoed wistfully. She would be so worried. He had, after all, run out screaming at her, throwing a tantrum. Call him childish, but he really had been hoping his parents would never leave each other and cleave his life in two. They had been together through thick and thin. They helped Stree through his depression he had gone through when he learned that he would never read fluently like everyone else. Being dyslexic was a major set back, and he knew it, even when he was very young. He hated that teachers had to pay such close attention to him. He hated the stares he got when he told others.
He had simply just started saying he had a hard time reading when he got older. Not many people - except for teachers - knew he was dyslexic. He didn't think even Lacey knew.
A breeze enveloped the two teenagers, and Stree looked nervously around. He didn't want his mom to find him. He couldn't see any cars. Straining his ears, he couldn't hear any motors.
"So, uh," he said absentmindedly, tearing his mind away from his family matters. "You don't come to school anymore. What made you drop?" It probably would surprise her. A Drip in school! Who'da thunk it?
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Post by Teddy<3 on Dec 26, 2010 5:40:01 GMT -5
Lacey didn't respond right away. She had turned away from Stree and was staring down the street, absently stroking the strap of her guitar case.
"I had perfect grades in school, I knew everything I was supposed to. But I didn't really have any friends and my parents had been struggling with their money. Around then I had learned how to play the guitar, so I began playing random gigs to earn my parents money. When I realized playing full time and during school hours would be even more beneficial, I got the idea to drop out. And then after a little bit f consideration, I decided to drop out. And here I am." Lacey said, summarizing the events leading to her decision. She felt no need to go into much details about why her parents had needed money or why she never had any friends.
Except for her best friend.
Lacey made the mistake of looking into the cold, hard eyes of the Drip. They reminded her so much of her friend's murderer's that tears of fright and remorse filled her eyes. She tore her gaze from Stree's as memories of that night came back to her.
They hadn't been doing anything. They were simply walking through town. That was their freshman year. Neither girl knew where each territory was, and the two had thought they were outside of the Drip's. They weren't. A young man had seen them and didn't hesitate. He gave them the option to run, but they both just stood there, frozen in shock and horror. The Drip had pulled out his knife, and Lacey had to watch as he mauled her best friends. When he was through, he looked into her eyes, sneering, a cold smirk on his face. She had fled, leaving her only friend behind.
Lacey clenched her jaw, trying to force back the fear that had begun to grow. For the first time since that night, Lacey was scared. Of Stree. She backed away slowly, trying to keep her calm.
"Um, I'm going to go. Gotta get home or the 'rents will have a fit." Lacey said shakily, attempting a nervous laugh. She turned on her heel and walked briskly away from Stree, finally letting the tears fall..
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Post by Jazmin on Dec 26, 2010 15:37:14 GMT -5
Stree felt something prick inside again as he watched pure horror cross Lacey's gaze. He knew the look too well. And right now, it even scared him. He took a cautious step back.
Stree couldn't help but feel the predator inside him awaken as she walked away. He pushed it back into sedation; this wasn't the time to tackle her.
"Your parents don't care, Lacey!" he called. He remembered the girl saying that before. Maybe that was back in school. "Why are you scared of me?" He was shocked that his voice came out so calmly.
He didn't move after her. If she was scared, following her would only feed her fear of him.
It hit him. The memory was faint, but he could remember back when he was just a rookie, a senior Drip had come to the meeting grounds of the school, gloating about his most recent kill. There were two women, freshmen in his opinion. He described one of them to have traits exactly like Lacey, the one that slipped away. His gloating had earned him a solid lash to the cheek from a higher ranking Drip.
"I won't kill you, Lacey," he said slowly, beginning to walk toward her, "like that Drip killed your friend. Freshman year and he killed her right in front of you. Is that why you're running away from me, Lacey?"
He quickly caught up to her and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her back. He spun her around and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace. I disgust myself, he cursed mentally, yet he still rested his chin to her shoulder. He shouldn't be holding her so close, let alone hugging her. He shouldn't even be talking to her. She knew too much. She should be dead.
But he couldn't kill her. He blamed that small crush he had on her back in school. He knew it was long gone, but the affection for her remained. It pained him, for some reason, to see her so scared, and of Stree himself.
"Drips aren't all like he was," he whispered, holding her head to him, watching the world behind her. "I'm not gonna hurt you, Lacey. I promise I won't hurt you."
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Post by Teddy<3 on Dec 26, 2010 16:01:22 GMT -5
Lacey stiffened as she felt Stree's strong, solid body wrap around her own. For a moment, she forgot who he was and she hugged him back, letting the tears fall against his chest. She closed her eyes, blocking out the momries of freshmen year, the memories of the cruel eyes of that Drip, and every other one she'd encountered or seen.
"Drips aren't all like he was." were the words that brought Lacey back to reality. That was a lie. A horrible lie that she wanted so badly to believe.
"You're disgusting," Lacey snarled at him, ripping away from his grasp. All Drips were the same. They all killed. They all murdered for no reason. "Don't try feeding me your lies. All Drips are the same. You're all cold-hearted killers." she snapped, turning again and continuing her path home. She wasn't scared of him anymore, she didn't mind turning her back on him, and her fast-paced steps weren't out of fear, but anger.
I almost hope he kills me. Right now. Lacey thought, seething in anger. That would prove my point. They all kill without reason, no matter who it hurts.
Lacey's steps slowed no more than ten feet away. She continued walking, but not for home. She couldn't go home in tears or in a bad mood. She needed to stop and play. Music always calmed her. But she needed to be as far from Stree as she could manage, but still far from home.
She stopped, literally dropping to her knees about thirty feet from where Stree had been. She didn't know if he had followed her or not, and frankly, she didn't care. Lacey pulled the guitar case over her head, laying it on the ground in front of her. She opened it, running her hand lovingly along the smooth wooden surface. Resting it on her lap and cradling it in her arms, she stroked the strings briefly with her thumb. Then began to play.
She closed her eyes, not needing to watch to know where to place her fingers forr the next chord. She just knew. Her long fingers danced across the strings, filling the air around her with a beautiful Spanish lullaby her dad had taught her. For those few moments she was perfectly at peace. All worries and negative thoughts flowed from her body with each stroke of the string.
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Post by Jazmin on Dec 26, 2010 17:49:07 GMT -5
Stree stumbled back when Lacey tore away from him, feeling his anger spike. He was truly offended. Sure, he had killed his fair share of people in the world, but she had no right to spit fire at him when he was trying to be nice. Biting down his anger, Stree watched her walk away. He took a small scoot forward when she fell, but remained silent.
He only began to walk when she began to play.
He had never heard the song before, but it was warming, soothing to the mind. Stree slowly walked to stand next to Lacey, sitting down on the cool grass beside her.
He waited until she had finished, taking deep breaths, drinking in the cold air and her soft song. "Lacey," he breathed, half temped to pull up his hood against the chill in the air, "you're right."
Stree turned and looked at her. "Drips have all had their moments where they're dead in the heart and kill without any regret." Stree touched his hand to his chest. "I would know. But you should think beyond the gang, too. We have families, loved ones that we'll protect with our life."
Stree looked away, embarrassed. He could remember the first time he had killed. He had gone home that night and cried until he felt like he ran out of tears. Such deep regret just made it hard for him to ever regret the loss of life again. "We do have emotion," he choked out. Hot tears were building up in his eyes, but he blinked them away. "We have fear, anger, sadness, and even regret. We've just... learned." There was no other word he could use to describe it. They had just learned.
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Post by Teddy<3 on Dec 26, 2010 18:11:33 GMT -5
Lacey turned her face from Stree. She was tired, it had been a long day. She didn't want to listen to this anymore. With a sigh, she began packing her guitar away. The only good it had done was keep her from punching him. When it was packed, she rested it on the ground beside her. She was too tired to bother going home. She'd sleep there and tell her mom she had spent the night at a friend's house.
Lacey was thankful she had on a sweatshirt, it would be a good enough pillow. And could act as a towel to brush off the grass and dirt before she returned home. It took her a moment to realize she had been ignoring to Stree. She turned to face him, sure the bags had darkened under her eyes and her hair was messed up, if she looked as tired as she felt.
"Stree, I can't believe you. You should know that. I've seen too many deaths caused by your kind. You kill innocent people because they happen to pass through your 'territory'." Lacey said, her voice emotionless. She was too tired to care anymore. The next thing she was planning on saying would probably get him to leave her alone. "My friend would still be alive if you didn't exist. If none of you Drips existed there would be hundreds of good people alive on this planet."
With those last words, Lacey grabbed her guitar case, stood, and walked across the grass to a shaded spot between a building and a tree. She took off her sweatshirt and folded it up, laying it on the ground and resting her head against on it, curling her body into a ball. If she wasn't so wary of the Drip watching her she could have fallen asleep the moment her head touched the shirt.
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Post by Jazmin on Dec 26, 2010 23:34:35 GMT -5
Out of all her words, "If you didn't exist" was like knives in his chest. His heart sank into his stomach. He had been told that before, not directly, but he had overheard.
He had been walking down the stairs, going to find something to drink. His parents' voices had stopped him at the bottom of the staircase, and he had pressed against the wall to listen. He was no older than ten.
"None of this would be a problem if he didn't exist!" came the harsh whisper of his father. "If he could just read, we wouldn't be having this argument."
His mother's voice tore his heart open. "I know, I know, but he's our son. I won't let that change the fact that I love him."
Stree stepped around the corner, one hand's fingertips touching the door frame. "I'm... a burden?" he asked quietly, his voice shaking.
Both of his parents looked up in shock, standing up and walking toward Stree. The little boy instantly backed up, his lip quivering and his eyes already forming fat tears. When they tried to close the space between them, Stree let out a vicious scream and ran up the staircase, his parents in hot pursuit. He was faster, taking the stairs on all fours, and he reached his room. He slammed the door behind him, not even bothering to lock it, and threw himself before his bed, onto his knees. He heard the door open, but didn't bother to look. Pushing his face into the bed, he let out another frightening shriek.
His father was the one to pull him away from the bed, holding his son to his chest. Stree's mother placed her hand to the little boy's back. Stree's fists struck his father's chest, but the man didn't stop him. He let Stree scream and cry and punch until he was exhausted.
He didn't remember leaving their arms that night.
Snapping back to the present, Stree turned his blue eyes to where Lacey lay. His blood began to boil with rage. "You know, if you opened your fucking eyes, you would be able to see that we aren't totally bad! We don't just kill whoever the fuck we want. You all should be thanking us for most of what we do!" He was on his feet, his hood pulled up again. "I've killed someone that would go to anyone's home and do as he pleased! What if I hadn't, Lacey? What if I had let him slide? Huh?"
Stree didn't even feel the pain in his wrist anymore. All he could feel was anger. "People like you don't see it, but the gang life is all some of us have. It's all I have. I can't read or write; what good am I? They always say that you don't get anywhere without reading. So I guess you're right. You're right. Mom was right. Dad was right. You're all right. I shouldn't exist!"
Stree leaned forward, pulling the knife and revolver from his sweatshirt pocket. Tossing them on the ground, he pulled his sweatshirt over his head and threw it on the ground. Stooping down, he picked up his weapons and turned away, tucking them into his jeans. The cold air bit at his bare skin; just what he wanted. He needed the cold. He needed the numbing effect it brought.
Without waiting for Lacey to snap back at him, Stree took off. He would come back for the sweatshirt later - if it hadn't been stolen by then. He just needed to run this off, even if he got lightheaded from his quick pace.
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Post by Teddy<3 on Dec 27, 2010 4:05:38 GMT -5
Lacey rose from the ground. She wanted to go after Stree. She didn't know why she did, but a strange longing to follow him filled her chest. She stood, watching him run away, her maternal instincts tempting her to scold him for running when he shouldn't. When he was injured.
Don't go after him... He can take care of himself. He doesn't need you. All he's doing is trying to run away from his fears and memories. warned a voice in Lacey's head. She had seen that distant, pained look that flashed across Stree's face. She didn't know what he had been remembering. She didn't know anything about him.
Finally Lacey couldn't take it. There was a gnawing thought in her mind that she couldn't seem to ignore. He would freeze without his shirt. She wrapped the shirt in a ball and ran after him, closing the space until only 6 feet separated them. She thanked her male cousin for teaching her how to throw a spiral and tossed the cloth ball at Stree. Happy when it hit his head, Lacey stopped. She just stared at Stree's bare back.
"I want to believe you. I do. But I've grown up learning to fear you. Like you've grown up learning to kill." Lacey whispered, knowing Stree couldn't hear her. She turned her back to him and began walking slowly back to her camp.
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Post by Jazmin on Dec 27, 2010 11:53:05 GMT -5
Stree stopped dead in his tracks when the ball hit his head, sighing and straining his ears to hear her. He only caught the last part, and it rubbed against his already raw emotions. To hold down sorrow, he reacted with anger.
Wheeling around, Stree grabbed Lacey's upper arm and spun her to face him. He hated that she continued to turn her back to him. It was rude. "Look, Lacey," he hissed, "I didn't grow up learning how to kill. I grew up learning how to survive, like you did. Gangs never even crossed my mind until maybe two years ago. I was plenty grown up by then. Just because I was only fifteen, that didn't mean it was the beginning of my life in the real world. It already started when I was ten. The Drips saved me," he added, his voice cracking. He remained silent until he could trust his voice again. "They gave me an obstacle I could overcome. They lowered the bar. I didn't need to know how to read to get in. They appreciated what I did have, not what I lacked."
Stree released Lacey's arm before his grip could hurt her. "I have a great photographic memory," he whispered. He was mainly speaking to himself. "I can calculate anyone's weak spot within fifteen seconds of just watching them move. The Drips saw that I could be of great use. They accepted me when no one else would."
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Post by Teddy<3 on Dec 27, 2010 12:49:45 GMT -5
Lacey just stared at Stree, resisting the urge to flinch when his hand wrapped around her arm. Her eyes flinched, but her body remained still and tense. Her eyes quickly replaced the brief fear with nothing. She was emotionless. Stree couldn't read. He got made fun of. That's life. Everyone gets made fun of for one reason or another. Lacey didn't even know what made the other kids swarm to her, but back in school she was always the one being picked on.
"Do you really think I care that you were made fun of? Everyone is. Plenty of kids for worse reasons then yours. Some for simply acting a little different, others for being overweight, others for speach disabilities, some of us for no reason at all. You think you're the only poor soul who can't read and gets made fun of? You aren't. No, I don't know what it's like to be in your place. I'm a very fluent reader, but I do know what it's like to be made fun of. Why do you think I really wanted to drop out? Not just to help my parents. I wanted to escape the kids at school." Lacey said, her voice monotone and flat. Frankly, she just didn't give a fuck anymore. She was made fun of. Everyone was. But she found her own way to cope. "I took being made fun of hard, really hard. Do you actually think my hair is naturally black? It's not. It used to be blonde. The color is left over from my days as a cutter. I used to cut myself because I just hated being excluded, hated hearing laughs and whispers in the halls and knew they were directed at me." here Lacey's voice broke a little at the last word. Still, she stood tall, facing Stree. "I know what it's like to feel like you're living in Hell. Trust me, I do. But I would never drop into the ranks of a gang. I'm fast. Not trying to brag, but honestly I could probably get this --" Lacey stopped and bent down, pulling her switchblade out of her boot and holding it up for Stree to see. "--in your stomach before you could process what was happening. I know that if I felt the need, I could get into a gang. Maybe not the Drips, but any of the others. I know I could kill without fllinching, without any regret or remorse. I know I could do it. I just choose not to."
Lacey sighed inwardly, really wishing she could just lay down and fall asleep. She was almost sleeping on her feet. But obviously Stree wasn't going to leave her alone. With an audible sigh, she tucked the switchblade back into her boot.
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Post by Jazmin on Dec 27, 2010 16:59:35 GMT -5
Stree backed up a couple steps when Lacey pulled out her switchblade. It wasn't that he was scared of her, just that he was cautious. His bright blue orbs watched the blade, taking notes of the way it was held, the angle it was turned at.
His eyes lifted to hers as soon as the knife was gone. "If you can kill without regret, why don't you?" he asked coldly, his emotions buried deep from sight. "You could get me out of your hair right here and now."
What am I doing? his thoughts screamed. He was goading her to kill him, and when he was so weak and exposed! Suicidal thoughts had never come to him. He could remember times when he had barked at other gang members and gotten into a fight.
Lacey is no gang member, he told himself firmly, but he still found that his mouth disagreed. "I know I've made you angry. I'm weak. Attack me." He held his scarred arms out, exposing the many small scars along his chest from when he was attacked by a dog long ago. He hardly ever even noticed them because they had been with him for so long. And they were faded, so they were never the first thing you looked at, unlike the scar along his cheek.
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Post by Teddy<3 on Dec 27, 2010 20:47:07 GMT -5
Lacey just laughed at Stree, a loud, harsh sound cutting through the air. She sneered up at him, finally tired of this nonsense. She didn't care anymore.
Took you long enough to realize you don't care about him anymore. chided an obnoxious voice in Lacey's mind, which she simply decided to ignore.
"You just aren't worth my time, Stree. You never were." she said, tired of running away from him but just wanting to lay down and rest. After a brief mental debate, Lacey decided that she wouldn't run away from her problems anymore. With a sigh, she flopped down on the grass around her, propping herself up on her elbows to watch the Drip's every move.
Lacey finally just dropped her head to the grass, tired of caring about Stree. She didn't care what he did or said anymore. She was over him, but obviously he had to be right, or by now she could be asleep. But no, he had to keep chasing her down.
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Post by Jazmin on Dec 27, 2010 22:18:00 GMT -5
Stree brought his hands to his face, pressing his palms over his eyes. Everything she was doing was making him mad. Taking a deep breath, Stree drank in the cold air. He remembered his anger management classes. They had told him to count to ten when he felt like he was going to really lose it. So he began to count.
"One... two... three..." Stree felt the cold begin to take effect on him. It really was cold out. "Four... five... six..." his anger was slipping away, sinking down into the ground under him. The fire that was his anger died, leaving Stree feeling hollow and cold. "Seven... eight... nine..."
He dropped his hands, his head still tipped back. His eyes scanned the night sky above. He found a thousand different images. "Ten," he whispered. He was calm once more. He wouldn't kill the girl on the ground now.
"Good," he finally said to her statement about him not being worth it. "I'm kinda happy you won't kill me. Didn't think you would, anyways." Stree's voice was blank, calm, relaxed, bored even. He shrugged. Whatever, his cold-numbed mind whispered, she doesn't want me around. I'll just giver her Hell and stay.
Allowing his knees to give out, Stree plopped down on the grass, flopping onto his back. His eyes never left the sky above.
"Lacey, if you hate Drips so much, why would you bother to help me? Why say hello? Why not just pass by?" Stree lifted an arm and flicked his wrist that was still wrapped in her cloth. "Why risk your life just to help an enemy?"
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Post by Teddy<3 on Dec 27, 2010 22:37:59 GMT -5
Lacey sighed as Stree sank to the ground beside her. She put her arms under her head, gazing up at the sky, taking deep breaths. All she really wanted to do was slap him. Repeatedly. But she wouldn't. She couldn't. Oh sure, she'd punched and kicked her way through life, occasionally being forced to bring out her blade, but that was to the strong. She only fought her equals, never stronger or weaker than her. Which is why she couldn't hurt Stree. That would be like kicking a weak stray dog out of your way. Her definition of strength didn't have anything to do with physical strength. A strong person was simply beyond caring. They stuck out their chin, balled up their fists, and took whatever people threw at them. They simply didn't care. Stree did. Lacey could see that. Opinions mattered to him. A lot.
"I helped you because you needed it. That's like asking a racist doctor why they treat black patients and do it kindly and gently. Because they know they're doing a good thing. I risked my life to help an enemy because you aren't my enemy. Your kind chose to make us enemies, chose to isolate yourselves and make us mad at you. I don't believe much in labels. When I knew you needed help you were an average kid to me." Lacey said, eyes flicking to Stree. They settled back on the night sky and with a small smile, barely visible, she added "I'm not racist."
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