BLACK SHEEP | DW

027.

"and so it seems i must always write you letters that i can never send"
- sylvia plath

he stared at the letter for the fifth time in two days. it stayed in his pillowcase in the times he was not reading it.

his cellmate had been awfully curious as to why the boy had been gazing at this single piece of paper over and over, like clockwork. so curious, he once tried to slyly read the note but was caught and threatened like hell.

"i better not catch you reaching for my stuff again, man," Dally jeered to the boy, similar in age.

the boy rolled his eyes in response, not scared at his threat. "yeah?" he asked condescendingly. "then what?"

"you'll get to keep all your fingers intact."

it was strange the way he guarded the note, and reread it to decipher any meaning to why the girl cared enough to write to him. perhaps he wasn't overthinking anything this whole time, and perhaps Dally's secret wish was true: venus thought about him in the same nature he thought about her.

he wanted to write back, so desperately he wanted to, but he couldn't. Dally prevented himself from doing so for days. he didn't want to seem like he was trying so hard, even though he might be on the brink of desperation.

Dally knew if he came to her with a letter, it meant his heart was on his sleeve, and he was albeit certain of the rejection bound to happen.

far worse, though, would be the opposite. maybe the girl would like him too, and they could be something, and then Dally would ruin her because he could never confront the darkness in himself. he would sit there, and watch as he tore her apart, and only would be able to stare blankly.

she said they were the same, yes, but in all the ways they were the same they were also different. because venus was just a good, gentle person who was attracted to mean personalities, and nothing about the boy could benefit her in anyway.

alas, though it wasn't one of his better judgements, he wrote back. because, in the end, this may be a good reason for everything to fall apart.

he tapped the pen against his leg, contemplating on what he could even say. he never wrote letters, and barley showed up to school enough to improve his crumby spelling, but he needed to say something. if he didn't, he might regret it his whole life.

venus,

i can't keep watching you throw yourself into danger to defend people. everyone sees it but you.
like you said. i dont need your help.
i dont know what you are looking for but this isn't it.
believe me. the less you need the better youll feel.

not your friend,
Dally

he tore up her letter after this. something in him knew she would write back anyway. of the little bit he knew about this girl, the thing he did know was that she was persistent. annoyingly so.

secretly, deep down, he also kind of hoped she would write back. that she would brush off his words and not take no for an answer. because maybe if she did, then maybe Dally would see that venus actually was different.

sylvia never bothered to write with him when he was locked up, and they were dating. she only visited him a few times before promptly chasing after one of his friends. and all those other girls, who he met at buck's or the rodeo, they were good for some entertainment for a while. but venus, if she persisted, and somehow proved to him that she was different than those broads, maybe Dally wouldn't mind these wandering thoughts anymore. maybe he could justify them.