My Heart Hurts. Let's Make It Hurt More.
- Locked due to inactivity on Aug 4, '16 4:18pm
Thread Topic: My Heart Hurts. Let's Make It Hurt More.
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Dalton shook his head. "My dad... He's complicated..."
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"So is my mom...I can see past her lying face."
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"I'm sure she'll come around soon. It's ought to be difficult for both of them..." Dalton shrugged. "Their opinions don't really matter, though. These are our lives, not theirs."
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"That's true. We'll move to California when we're old enough, and we'll be able to live our lives as lovers in peace..." Kim smiled soft and nuzzled his hand.
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He smiled and nodded slightly. "I like that plan. I'll start saving up my money for plane tickets and basic needs."
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"I'll get a babysitting job or something. And save up that money, especially since I love kids."
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"I love kids too. They're so adorable and innocent." Dalton's mind wandered to the last time he had seen his little cousin Abigail. She was bound to be eight around now. He hadn't seen her in a few years. Ever since he'd contracted the 'illness', as his father called it, he wasn't allowed to see her.
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"Whatcha thinkin about, sweetheart?" He only got to her from his younger cousins over the phone since they still live in England. The were little twins, two boys, and they always loved talking to him. Although, his mother listened on another phone in the house.
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"My younger cousin Abigail. I haven't seen her in years..." He frowned a bit. "Dad's convinced that I'll pass on the 'illness' to her." He used his fingers to make air quotes around the word 'illness'.
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He scoffed. "I hear ya. My mom listens in on my calls to my little cousins back in England."
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Dalton wrinkled his nose in disgust. "People are so blind. This isn't an illness. You can't contract it; it's not contagious. There's no 'correction'... Who decided it was wrong to begin with?"
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"Whatever moron decided to write the bible. The majority of stuff in it is a lie. I wish we could leave right now."
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Dalton shrugged. "My birthday's coming up soon. I'm bound to get a lot of money. We could probably move in with relatives for the time being, at least until we're old enough to live on our own," he suggested, nibbling on the eraser of his pencil. It was another habit of his; he often did so when he was deep in thought.
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