Chapter Text
As I sat there, cold metal around my wrist and a woman, who seemed to be way past her prime, behind me cutting my hair.
I loved my hair, it was something to hide behind when getting caught. There was a time where I was with my gang down town, we were starving and so the two elder boys had stolen, but got caught. I had took the blame because my hair made me look innocent even though I wasn't. It helped them steal.
I never knew how to take care of it, and I suppose I didn't need it in prison. Who was there to hide from?
As she snipped and snipped off my hair, I watched it brush the ground. Clumps of knots, dirty blond hair, hair crescent over with blood.
truly didn't know how to take care of it, ma had died when I was younger and never taught me, and the old man-? Yeah no way in hell he even wanted to be seen with me.. I looked to much like ma I suppose.
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"DELILAH ‐ DAMNIT WE GOTTA BLASH—!!!" A sharp cold, rough voice cut through as it hauled me up from the cold gravel and away from the boy who was curled up into a ball slowly dying.
I didn't realize who it was until I saw the boy with the messed up head.
*Bryson.*
He was a part of my gang. He had messy black hair, small brown eyes, and one sick ass scar from his neck, through his lip, to his nose. I didn't know when I started moving, or when I was hiding in Bryson's arms. Delilah Winston— that was me. A blonde headed girl who knew nothing more but the boys she ran with on the street. I had blue eyes, light blue like the sky on a good day. Look just like my old woman. Shivering in that dark alley way with the coat hanging off my shoulders I looked at Bryson, we both scared and covered in blood.
"Bry— what...just happend—!!" My voice sounded so small, that wasn't me. I didn't sound like that. "How— did you– I–" my hands were shaking and I just wanted to cry.
Glory I'd never prove myself as tough like this.