| |
|
" nice truck kinda seems like you wanna copy me " she nodded to her silver Ford F-250 |
|
|
| |
|
Marco chuckled, eyeing the differences. "You have a F-250, i've got a F-150. So not really," He mused, pecking her cheek as he walked into the trailer to grab a few things. |
|
|
| |
|
She followed him in " yeah true so I have a rodeo in Oklahoma next you doing with me " |
|
|
| |
|
Marco tensed visbly when she said Oklahoma, eyes widening slightly as he scowled and continued on. "Where in Oklahoma?" He asks, tone different then usual. |
|
|
| |
|
She was confused " a lilt tale town that holds a pro rodeo I think it's called vinita " |
|
|
| |
|
"I'm-i'm not sure. Maybe," He said quickly, ending that as he walked into the trailer. The memories came rushing in, his father beating him every waking second he could, his mother just a silent figure in the background. Marco tried to clear his head, but the memories stuck of one of the worst times his father had gotten his hands on him. He had tried to strangle Marco, and after he failed, beat him until he couldn't move. Just thinking about it, even just remembering it-it was as if he could feel every punch landing on him, and then the stabs, and burns, too. He sat on the bed, a thousand yard stare as he held his head in his hands and remembered. Marco needed to either forget about it, Or forget himself. |
|
|
| |
|
She followed him and walked to him and pulled him close to her holding him in a tight hug |
|
|
| |
|
Marco just let her, relaxing slightly into her embrace as his mind remained a river. "I don't know," He repeated, voice a whisper. |
|
|
| |
|
" it's ok I don't have to go to the rodeo" |
|
|
| |
|
"No, I want you to go. I just, don't know if, if he'll be there." Marco said quietly, holding her tightly. |
|
|
Heavy Downpours, Flood Warning
