Blackened Wings (Andy Sixx)

(Dallas' POV)

Another day came, I sat and watched the sun rise like every other morning. I smiled, inhaling the warm scent of coffee. I pulled my sweater around my average figure and squeezed my eyes shut for a minute, forgetting about everything.

I sat in my chair in my bed room, listening to my mom cook breakfast downstairs, my dad get ready for wok; he never was a quiet one. I chuckled to myself and set my cup down, standing and walking to my bathroom.

I showered and wrapped a towel around me, shivering at the sudden cold air that ripped my from my steamy oasis. I walked to the closet, shuffling through the clothes. I chose black skinny jeans with rips in each knee, a Slipknot band tee, and my black Vans with white laces.

I searched in the cabinets to find my straightener. There was a section of my hair shaved, the other side long. I liked my hairstyle, I think it's different. I brushed it out and dried it, plugging in the straightener afterwards.

After all that was done, I applied light makeup and waltzed downstairs.

"Hi, mom." I said, a small smile playing on my lips. I loved how my mother was in the mornings; hilarious. She was grumpy, her hair was like a rat's nest, makeup smeared, hands on her hips, cigarette in her mouth. She was so cool.

I chuckled and her tapping foot, impatient for the cigarette to light. "Here, light this for me. My hands are still asleep." she ordered.

I stood and walked over to her smiling. I lit her cigarette for her and silently vowed never to smoke. Ever. Sure, it looked cool, but it smelled funny, and I don't think I would like the taste too much either.

After I ate my eggs and toast, I walked up the stairs again, to find my dad coming down them.

"Hi, love." he stated; placing a hand on my shoulder. "Morning, dad." I smiled warmly at him. I loved my dad; he doesn't care what I look like. He never agreed with my hairstyle, nose piercing, tattoo on my wrist; well, he was okay with that, it's my brother's name  in cursive. But he didn't care. He always said: "You're my little girl. I want to see you happy, that's all. Of course there are boundaries, but you know, I want nothing but to see you living happily."

I smiled to myself as I subconsciously grabbed my messenger bag and was off to school.

**

"Hey, babe." Tony hugged my from behind. "Hey, Tony." I said quietly. He pecked the crook of my neck and inhaled, "Good, you used the vanilla."

I nodded, "Just like you said to." I reminded him. "Exactly. Love you, Dallas." he smiled, putting emphases on the already apparent dimples. Right. So, he was in a good mood today?

I walked to class and sat in the back.

*

After school I went home and got ready for work; even at only 17, I was always independent.

I dressed in a white t-shirt, black skinny jeans, and black combat boots. I brushed through my hair and touched up my makeup. I grabbed my phone and name tag and walked downstairs.

"By, mom, love you, I have work tonight though."

"Okay, sweetie, bye. Be safe, now!" she called. By now she was a civilized business woman, every hair in place, lipstick done precisely. She'd  just got home from work, now working on dinner, the smell of spaghetti washing over my senses.

I drove to work and was rudely greeted by Sandra, my co-worker. She was one of those all too perfect, platinum blonde, blue eyes, stick skinny, long legged girls who always had their noses us and credit card down.