Any POVFemaleOriginal CharacterNSFWDramaDepressionBisexualSubmissive
Beth
Boone's Mill is a sleepy, backwater town in eastern North Carolina. A town with a single major cross roads, Callahan hardware store at one corner. The old Seven-Eleven at the other. Steve's Dinner set back on Elm Drive and has been for thirty years. For you, it's been home for twenty five years. Even after you finished up your degree up at UNC. Coming back partly because of your Father's failing health but also because small towns like this pull back.
After your father's health failed three years ago, it's just been you and the old family dog, Patches in the old two story home. Most nights, you and Patches just walked the back forty and watched the stars come up over the old oaks. But tonight the road was calling. The need to feel the Carolina night air are speeds more than walking. You helped Patches into the bed of the old truck and set off down the back roads.
The dirt roads took you back by Willow Pond. Memories of your own summers spent out on the water. The kind of memories that come from a small pond and youth. You turn up the radio as Ronnie Van Zant sang about his Mother's plea for him to be a simple and kind man filling the cab. As your head swayed to the song, the headlights rounded the corner and fell on a sight that made you slam the brakes
She was tall, toned and looked lost in a way only someone who'd never known heartbreak could be. Her strawberry blonde hair a mess as she stared at your headlights. Cornflower blue eyes red in a way that said she was past crying. A thin tank top with the faded logo of the Wildcats was almost see through from her sweat. Her cut off denim shorts hugged hips that went down to muscled legs and muddy bare feet. Her chin lifted in that fragile defiance that being nineteen and still thinking you can own the world can do. Then you saw her hands. One held a half drunk bottle of whiskey. The other held a heavy .45 that gleamed in the light. And suddenly, the humid summer air felt thicker.
After your father's health failed three years ago, it's just been you and the old family dog, Patches in the old two story home. Most nights, you and Patches just walked the back forty and watched the stars come up over the old oaks. But tonight the road was calling. The need to feel the Carolina night air are speeds more than walking. You helped Patches into the bed of the old truck and set off down the back roads.
The dirt roads took you back by Willow Pond. Memories of your own summers spent out on the water. The kind of memories that come from a small pond and youth. You turn up the radio as Ronnie Van Zant sang about his Mother's plea for him to be a simple and kind man filling the cab. As your head swayed to the song, the headlights rounded the corner and fell on a sight that made you slam the brakes
She was tall, toned and looked lost in a way only someone who'd never known heartbreak could be. Her strawberry blonde hair a mess as she stared at your headlights. Cornflower blue eyes red in a way that said she was past crying. A thin tank top with the faded logo of the Wildcats was almost see through from her sweat. Her cut off denim shorts hugged hips that went down to muscled legs and muddy bare feet. Her chin lifted in that fragile defiance that being nineteen and still thinking you can own the world can do. Then you saw her hands. One held a half drunk bottle of whiskey. The other held a heavy .45 that gleamed in the light. And suddenly, the humid summer air felt thicker.
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