Post by Dallas Kennedy on Dec 9, 2012 0:22:03 GMT -5
Dallas James Kennedy "Dally"
Eighteen, July 2
Male, obviously
Football, lacrosse.
Senior
Occupation ~ Drive-thru at Julian's Conery (an ice cream shop). Races cars for extra money
Appearance:
Imagine the pretty boy. The swooner of ladies, if you will. Dallas holds this. The young man stands roughly six feet and one inch. He has muddy blonde hair with lighter - almost blonde- tips from a once-upon-a-time hair coloring. He has an average build, light tan, and a slightly toned muscular frame. Dallas has brown eyes the shade of dead winter bark with honey inlay around the iris. They're large and have a depth to them. His nose is slender and rather straight with no defining bridges or curves. Dallas has soft rosy lips, full but thin. His hands are strong and weathered from working in the shop, callused from long hours.
Generally, Dallas is seen wearing button-up shirts and dark denim jeans. He likes to keep them as clean as possible, but it's hardly ever successful. There is one thing that never changes.. his smirky grin towards women.
Personality:
He has always been the courageous and risky one throughout most of his life and he always finds someway of digging a hole of trouble. He enjoys spending his time racing cars, which is where most of his money comes from - winning street races. His choice for income has fucked him over countless times and his own parents have stopped helping. Dally has a crazy way of doing things. seriously. He is secretly a romantic. Don't fall in love, though. He's inconsiderate, unstable, and doesn't like a commitment, unless you're a trusted friend or you really made an impression. Out of all the dirt and rust that he holds, little pieces of gold can be seen. He doesn't gossip, he's friendly, and most of all.. he's the person that will always be there to help in a time of need.
Background Story:
Dallas Kennedy grew up just outside of Middlesboro, Kentucky. His parents had a wealthy background that they planned on passing on to their only son. They figured that would be the best way to show their affection since they didn’t really show it in other ways like parents should. He always resented that his parents never physically or emotionally showed their love for him. I guess if you buy your child everything they ever wanted - horses, dirt bikes, horses, clothes, games or whatever- that says it for you.
When Dallas was seven, his dad began gambling and getting comfortable with a manager at the main street corner store. Young Dally had come home from school one afternoon and heard a funny noise upstairs. He knew his parents weren’t supposed to be home for another two hours, so he cautiously walked up the stairs and to his parent’s bedroom. “Hello?” He asked in a voice that was barely audible. The noises behind the slightly open door didn’t stop so he opened it just enough to pop his head in. Dallas was scared and confused all at the same time. “D-Daddy?” He asked, trying to take in everything that was going on. His dad was naked and bent over the back of a woman who wasn’t his mother.
Mr. Kennedy didn’t move or say anything at first. He didn’t even try to hide anything. He just stared at Dallas with an angry expression covering his face. “Say anything to your ma' and I’ll beat you so hard yer fuckin' head will spin off. Got it, kid?” Dallas nodded and ran to his room crying and scared to move. He hid under his bed until the woman left and his mom came home shortly after. When she asked him why he was hiding, he simply told her that he was playing a game. She didn’t question him anymore after that.
A few years passed and Dallas continued to grow. He was now eleven years old. He had started playing football after school with his friends and going with his mom to the boarding stable she gave lessons at. He loved doing both and had decided he wanted to be a football star cowboy when he grew up. He already knew how to ride and had been doing so since he was able to walk, but now he was certain. How certain are you in the fifth grade?
His mom was working late that night but and had her friend drive Dallas home. Lights were on inside which meant his dad was already there so he ran inside to see him. After closing the front door, he was mortified at the familiar yet long forgotten sounds that were ringing out from upstairs. Dallas ran into his parent’s bedroom and swung the door open. He saw the same thing he had when he was seven except two different girls and the group was drunk. He could smell the nasty aroma of beer in the air and it almost made him sick.
His dad jumped up and flung his underwear back on. He gripped Dallas by his arm and threw him into the hall. “What did I tell you about bargin' in on me, boy?” Mr. Kennedy yelled. Dallas didn't say anything to prevent himself from getting smacked or yelled at any further. His dad continued, “If you peep to your ma about this I’ll make you black and blue for weeks you worthless piece of shit!” He concluded his argument with a swift back handed slap to Dallas’ face which made him yelp and sent the boy running for his room. He locked the door and curled up under his blankets, hot tears running over the stinging bruise on his cheek.
He was scared to tell his mom but he knew that he wouldn't be able to explain the mark on his face. When she came home she went to check on him just as she did every night. He let her in and locked the door behind her. “Mommy,” He cried to her, wrapping himself around her as she dropped to her knees. She continuously asked what was wrong and what had happened but he was too hysterical to answer. She pulled him back and saw the darkening bruise on his cheekbone and knew exactly who had done it. “Stay here. Okay, Dally?” She asked, cupping his hands over his ears and shutting the door behind her.
She wasn’t stupid. She knew about the girls and alcohol on her husband’s breath. But hitting their son was the last straw for her. Dallas could hear the two yelling downstairs so he climbed on his bed and hid under the blankets. Things got louder and sounded as if they were getting closer as well.. and they were. His dad swung open the door and instantly yanked his son from the bed. “What did I tell you!?” He yelled and shook him. “I swore if you told your mother than I’d what? That’s right! Knock your fuckin' head off!” He let Dallas drop to the floor as he swung his arm back.
He was only able to get in two or three good hits before his mom was furiously pulling her husband away from their crying son. She snatched him from the ground and headed to the car. The pair spent the night at the barn, sleeping in the owner’s spare bedroom. They stayed there for a week before Mrs. Kennedy decided to move to New York where she had family. The next few years went by, and his mom went back to her husband in Kentucky, leaving Dallas with his aunt for the time being. She knew he would be better off out of his dad's life.
It was the perfect cliché. Drunk, cheating father and a naive mother who didn’t want to look at her son because he looked so much like his dad. When Dallas hit high school,his aunt had him move into the dorms at Somerset so she had time to herself. His mother rarely called and when she did the two almost always got into a fight about something. Freshman year, he dropped his acne and began building muscle. He tried out for the football team and was declined. He went on with the year, summer came around and he spent time with his new friends. Sophomore year rolled around and he tried out again. This time he was nearing his goal weight and appearance and had practiced nearly all summer. This time, he was accepted, and placed as a wide receiver. He had speed and was good with his hands. As long as he was on the team, he didn't care what position he played. After the first season, the ladies started to notice him. He loved it. He kept his grades up enough to stay on the team, and high enough to keep his aunt from bitching. School was nice, he actually enjoyed going. His junior year, he stayed on the same route but double the girls and triple the popularity. He began to add in parties and drag races to the equation. It was the high school dream in his world.
That was, until the night he was arrested for a DWI. He had just turned seventeen a few months prior. His family refused to help him when he was in trouble with the law and made him stay at the dorms. He is now a senior. He has stopped drinking as much and likes to keep it with the weekends. He works at an ice cream shop and races his car with men twice his age and by far more experience. It brings in enough money though, a hearty sum that he squanders here and there. He has kept one friend through everything, Esme Reynolds. The two have been inseparable since they first met in eighth grade. He has also joined the lacrosse team and has saved enough money to put a down payment on his car shop.
