addicted to a certain kind of sadness [dallas]

[drea elizabeth fischer]

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602 words

Drea hated Los Angeles. She hated it with every fiber of her being.

For the first eighteen years of her life, she had been a small town Coloradan. New York itself had been a big step, but of course after about a month of living there, Drea had completely fallen in love. How could you not fall in love with the city that never sleeps? And so one might think that since she loved New York so much, LA wouldn’t faze her. One would be wrong. One would be so, so wrong.

But maybe it was just the reason she was here that she hated it so much. After all, Dallas had forced her. Of course, she had told her family and friends that this was a big opportunity for the both of them, and that she couldn’t be more excited to open this new chapter of her life. But that was just one of the many lies she was telling them. One more couldn’t hurt, right? Her entire life was basically a lie at this point.

Her parents thought that their precious Drea was happy in all aspects of her life. She had made it as a professional ballerina, something that wasn’t at all easy. She had attended the most prestigious art school in the United States. And she was married to a handsome man who was successful in his own field. Why wouldn’t she be happy?
Drea could never tell her parents the truth – that Dallas beat her.

Maybe after she left him. After all, she would have to have an explanation for them then. They wouldn’t understand what happened otherwise, since her entire family was infatuated with him. And why wouldn’t they be? He was the perfect man around them. He had been the perfect man to her, too, until the miscarriage.

But that was something that Drea didn’t like to think about.
She dropped her dance bag to the hard wood floor, exhausted from a long day of rehearsals. Her shoulder ached a bit, and she made large, slow circles with her arm, trying to work out the kinks. Drea peeled off her sweaty leotard and tights, throwing them into the hamper and drawing herself a warm bath. Deciding to light some candles for extra relaxation, Drea lowered herself into the warm water and closed her eyes.

Levi was the first person to appear behind them, causing her eyes to fly open once more. Levi, her physical therapist. He was a nice guy, he really was, and she was really enjoying getting to know him. But things felt dangerous lately. More and more, she was picturing her life as a single woman in LA. Would she have fallen for Levi?

Of course, Drea couldn’t think like that. Dallas gave her enough trouble as it was. He would fly through the roof and probably kill them both if he ever caught Drea with another man. Of course, things would be completely different once she worked up the courage to leave him, but at this point that goal felt years away. After all, last time she had tried, Drea had ended up in the hospital. She wanted away from Dallas, but she didn’t want to wind up dead. She had to be smart about it.

After spending a half hour or so in the bath, Drea drained it and wrapped a towel around her. She stood in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom and sighed. A faded hand print around her forearm. Bruises on her upper thigh. It had to stop. It had to. But it wouldn’t.

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[dallas henry fischer]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:10px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://inapcache.boston.com/universal/site_graphics/blogs/bigpicture/sat_04_20/s16_12532_10.jpg) ] this repulsive carcass who seems a beast but secretly dreams of beauty. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Dallas breathed in quietly through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. His large hands gripped the steering wheel as he made his way home from his office. Dallas was glad that he had this job: it was his dream. Working for a big company, high enough on the chain where you got significant bonuses and had control of the large array of worker pawns beneath you, but low enough on the chain where you didn't really get the blame for anything significantly bad that may happen to the company or its workers at any point in time. Yes, Dallas loved his job and he loved LA. Though, of course, he hated the traffic that came with the city. It should never take someone an hour to drive a few miles home. That was just uncalled for. Dallas sighed and thought about how he got here: not too long ago he was in New York City, married, unemployed and with a baby on the way. Life was hard, but Dallas was investing 110% of himself into trying to make things better for himself and his family. Unfortunately, his wife didn't take time off to rest, and she lost the baby. That moment crushed Dallas. How could someone be so careless? How could a person care so little about new life that was being created? Where was the mama bear within all women who would fight tooth and nail to save their young? Why did Drea, the love of his life, have to be the one person who didn't care? This was his family. And Drea had ripped it away from him. Dallas had to fight himself to loosen the grip on his steering wheel. He couldn't get angry. Not anymore. Each and every day was a battle for Dallas. All he wanted to do was to hold his wife and feel her soft, loving embrace. But all he got was stiffness and hatred. He didn't want to be angry anymore. He wanted to forgive and forget. But it was just too easy to fix things with violence. Often he wondered if he would still hit his wife if he were to divorce Drea and marry someone new. He wanted to say that he would only hit Drea. But a part of him feared that he would hit every woman afterwards as well. Dallas was afraid that he would always be abusive. He was afraid that this was one addiction you could never recover from. Dallas could feel himself tense up and quickly turned some music on to distract himself. He flipped through the channels, but everything seemed to remind him of his predicament. He was a monster, hiding behind an innocent face, waiting to be unleashed. It wasn't true. It couldn't be true. But it was. Dallas pulled into his driveway and composed himself for a few moments. He took a few deep breaths and thought of happy things: Little things that couldn't ever make you mad because they were just too simple and pure. He thought of citrus, of kittens, of toys and dolls and children's books. Dallas thought of candy and of of playing catch with his father as a boy. The hot sun, the brown, prickly grass and the oversized baseball cap that Dallas always balanced on his head. That was happiness. He reminded himself of that and relaxed, stepping out of the car and making his way into his home. Immediately, Dallas made his way to his bedroom, taking off his blazer and unbuttoning his shirt so his chest was exposed. Home was no time to be in work clothes. Home was a casual place. It was there that he spied Drea, staring in the mirror. She had just gotten out of a shower, and was still soaking wet. Nevertheless, he walked behind her and rested his head on her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her. "Hey, Honey," He said and kissed her cheek. But she was cold, emotionless. At least that was how she seemed. He sighed and rocked back and forth, holding her close and staring at their reflection in the mirror. "I love you," He wanted a loving reaction from her, but he knew subconsciously that he would probably never get it. After a few months of abuse, Dallas would have to hit her just to get the proper reaction from her, which didn't help him stop the abuse. Dallas sighed and tried one more time. "How was your day?" Afraid that she wouldn't answer, Dallas moved his hand slowly along her body, finding a bruise in the shape of a handprint on her arm. She probably told her friends that she and Dallas liked it rough in the bedroom, so she wouldn't have to admit the truth. But Dallas knew what it was from. He slowly moved his hand over the handprint and applied gentle pressure, not enough to hurt, but just enough to warn Drea that if she didn't answer him to his liking, he would make the handprint would darken up again, fresh and sore. Dallas cursed himself inside for this, but he couldn't stop himself. He knew this had to be done. If he wanted a normal relationship, there was only one way to get it. And this was it. DREA ELIZABETH FISCHER. 874 WORDS. OUTFIT. TEMPLATE BY OH SO COOPERNATURAL ! @ CAUTION.

[drea elizabeth fischer]

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797 words

Sometimes Drea had to think about the times when her marriage was happy so she could get through the days. Although the memories were somewhat foggy now, they still existed. Dallas and Drea had once been the dream couple, the couple that all their friends envied. They were, after all, college sweethearts. And isn’t that what everyone wanted? It hadn’t taken Drea long to fall in love with Dallas. What with his southern charm and family values, a girl would be insane to pass that up. All her friends said so. Sometimes Drea wondered how they would react if they knew the truth, if they knew that the fairytale had fallen apart not long after it started. She was sure they would pity her, and pity was just something that Drea couldn’t handle. She had been raised to be strong, and strong is what she would be.

It really was the miscarriage that had turned everything around. In a time where she so desperately needed the comfort of her husband, Drea was left fighting to pick up the pieces on her own. It was no secret that she hadn’t been especially thrilled when she first got pregnant. Kids were the long term goal, but definitely not so early on in her dancing career. After all, something like that could have ruined her. But, what was there to do except accept the fact that a baby was on the way? Drea’s doctor had told her that if she was feeling up to it, dancing would still be fine. She could still attend regular rehearsals, so long as she wasn’t doing much with the risk of falling. And Drea felt healthy. She felt healthy, so when she began bleeding unexpectedly one day, it had been mortifying. Drea had just been getting used to the idea that she would soon be a mother, and to have that suddenly taken away from her? Devastating.

When she told Dallas the news, she knew that her husband would be just as upset as she had been. He had been excited from the get go to have a huge family with Drea, and now that plan was shot. At least for a while. Drea knew that this kind of tragedy had the capability of tearing a couple apart, but she hadn’t worried about that. She and Dallas had a good enough relationship that they could lean on each other and get past this tough time, eventually even try again. If only that had been the case. Drea remembered the day of that first slap like it was yesterday. The sting on her cheeks. The tears in her eyes. How quickly Dallas apologized. How quickly she had believed him. How wrongly she had believed him.

The door slammed, causing Drea to jump from her reverie. Her body tensed slightly as she listened to her husband’s footsteps move around the house, undoubtedly towards their bedroom. She watched cautiously as he unbuttoned his shirt, biting the inside of her lip. Whatever calm she was feeling after her bath had completely melted away. Dallas was home.

Dallas kissed her cheek , and it was all Drea could do not to flinch out of his way. ”Hey,” she said plainly, no real inflection in her voice. As he told her he loved her, Drea held back a scoff. If he thought this was love, she almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Maybe there had been a time when he loved her, but those days were long gone. He asked her how her day was, squeezing her arm to ensure a reaction from her. There were times when this worked and there were times when this didn’t. Sometimes Drea felt a fire deep in the pit of her stomach, a fire that told her she didn’t have to put up with this, that she could fight back. Of course, she was tiny compared to her husband, so the fighting had to be done with her words. She hated what this marriage had turned her into. At one time, the blonde had been a woman who would never speak badly to her husband. But those days had melted away.

Drea shimmied out of his grasp, moving towards her closet. She dropped her towel and tied a black, short silk robe around her slender body. ”My day was alright,” she said in a cool, even tone. ”a bit sore.” Drea gave him a pointed look and then added, ”From rehearsals, of course.” And while that may have been part of her pain, she and Dallas both knew it wasn’t all of it. But, Drea had almost come to be used to the constant aching of her body, the bruises that covered it. It just wasn’t something she cared to become used to.

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