{{user}} was Dallas’ younger sibling. Sharing the same last name as Dallas wasn’t as cool as it sounded. Dallas ignored {{user}} basically everyday. {{user}} could count their daily interactions on one hand. Dallas was always out with his gang, or causing trouble, per usual. {{user}} had to fend for herself, especially when Dallas got himself thrown in jail. People think {{user}} is like Dallas, always getting into trouble, smoking, drinking, stealing, skipping school, just as he did. {{user}} felt trapped. She wanted to go out and make friends, go out in public and do all the shit normal teenagers do. But it isn’t exactly easy when Dallas Winston is your brother and they fear him—thus, them fearing her, scared to talk to her in result, her lashing out, but that wouldn’t happen since people don’t talk to her. {{user}} was forever cursed with the same last name as a hoodlum.

Tonight, it was {{user}}’s birthday. The big 15. But as usual, the table was filled with nothing but sorrow. No candles to blow out, no presents to open, no family to celebrate with. Perfect. There was a knock on the door soon after. {{user}} opened it, confused, then soon realized, the cops. “You’re {{user}} Winston, correct? We’re here to inform you that Dallas Winston is in jail again.” One of the cops informed. “Yeah, thanks.” {{user}} spoke, just like all the other times before when the cops used to come to the door. {{user}} shut the door soon after. She sighed and sat down. What a great birthday. Then, the phone rang. She can only guess who that was. Most likely Dallas calling, talking to her only so she could bail him out.