a/n :: before i even start, i want to say that dakota's views on religion aren't mine.

 "Wait, wait, wait," I said, staring down at the Bible laid on the mahogany table in front of me. "If God and Jesus are the same thing in this damn 'trinity' bullshit, then when Jesus died, didn't God die too? And doesn't that mean he doesn't exist?"

Wasn't that just basic math? The identity property? How the hell did people blindly follow this bullshit? I would sooner worship the Lord of the Flies before being spoon fed Christianity. It made absolutely no sense. At all.

Blondey stared at me in confusion. Obviously no one had ever questioned that before. The other people in our Bible study group shifted in their gray chairs to look at me. Heaven forbid I ask a decent question. If they expected me to follow what the damn book said, the book needed to make sense.

"God had to leave Jesus' body because he took all of our sins and God cannot be in a place with sin," Georgia said beside me. A quiet murmuring among the other people in the room ensued after that, followed by nods from most people around the table. I still didn't get it. That was probably why I never had a proper religion; Mother had never mentioned it and no one else in my life seemed to care. Besides, I had committed enough sin in my life that I didn't even think Jesus could forgive me.

And if God is Jesus and Jesus is God, then how can God just leave? I didn't get it. Georgia had grown on me, though; I wasn't going to just continue questioning the stupid Jesus book. Instead, I nodded at her and stared down at the wood grain of the table we were sitting at. After Georgia's answer, Blondey continued the lesson as usual; I didn't even pretend to be paying attention.

There were two windows in the room, which was painted beige, but they were covered in wooden blinds. Even though I couldn't see outside, I stared at the windows anyway. What would it be like to just break out and go back to Vegas? It was like the city was calling to me; all its parties and drugs. It wanted me back.

A smile tugged at my lips. Vegas was like the clingy ex that I couldn't get rid of. It was already calling me back and we had only been apart for a week. If I was honest with myself, I'd know that I felt the same way. I wanted Vegas back. It wanted me. It was a match made in heaven, but hell spanned out between us ever getting back together.

I'll come back to you, I thought to the city. Even in a rehab center, Vegas was prominent. The nurses wore Vegas-themed outfits and the other people working there had "Welcome to Vegas" pins on shirts. For a place that was meant to take the city out of the patients, the city was awfully prominent.

"That concludes our lesson today," Blondey said. Everybody shut their Bibles and kept them on the table. We all rose and distributed to the small groups we had formed in the week we had stayed so far. Most of the other patients were older than Georgia and I, so we stayed away from them. Then, it was just Georgia and myself in our own "posse," if it could even be called that. Three's a crowd, right?

We walked out of the room and into the hallway, heading back to our room. Since the first day I had met her, Georgia had started to become less terrified and more social. We had had a few conversations, but nothing too elaborate. I liked her, especially as a roommate. She didn't make much noise.

"What did you think of today's lesson?" Georgia asked me as we began down our lavender-colored hallway. My muscles tensed; I was about to stop mid-stride, but forced myself to continue onward. I didn't want to tell Georgia I thought that the whole "Jesus" thing was complete nonsense. She had found something to believe in, to help her through whatever she needed to overcome. I had myself to deal with, which was just fine. Jesus wouldn't want me anyway.

"It was okay," I said when we entered our room. One of the TVs was on a talk show. Ever since the Soviet Union "officially" disbanded, all the people on CNN had been talking about was communists and all kinds of other shit I didn't give a fuck about. Georgia actually cared, though. When we split to our sides of the room, it was her tube that had two old silver-haired men talking about communism playing across the screen.

I flicked on my television and turned it to a cartoon channel. An animated Beetlejuice slowly came to life behind the screen. How did they manage to make that movie into a cartoon? I looked over at Georgia. She was absorbed in her liberal political TV. Whatever.

"I'm going out for a smoke," I told Georgia, grabbing a cigarette out of the pack on my nightstand. Earlier, I had asked one of the nurses to buy me a pack since we weren't allowed off of the property. Smoking and walking were the only things that were a good enough excuse to get the nurses to let me out of the building. I just wanted to be part of the city. Just watching out the window wasn't enough; at least breathing in the stale, desert air brought some of the city back to me.

Georgia made a noise at me as I walked out of the room. I walked down the empty lavender hall toward the nurses' station. A red-haired woman sat behind the cream-colored desk, reading a magazine. She looked up, I held out the cigarette, and she nodded. I continued down the hall and out the heavy metal door to the outside.

It was an incredibly hot day already. It wasn't even noon. The cars going down the street wavered from the heat coming off the asphalt. I sat on the step and lit up the smoke. The noise from the street dragged me back to only a few days ago. The drugs, the sex, the freedom. I took a drag. The smoke burned.

Since arriving, I did feel more clear-headed. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing; in a way, it made everything really boring. The day would just drone on without the hidden meaning that various drugs gave it. What was I supposed to do without parties? All I had done was attend Bible classes (that Satan needed to burn) and watch TV. Sometimes, I would talk to Georgia, but she was really quiet. We were friends only by being roommates.

She had changed a lot since the first day I met her. Whatever godly nonsense they were throwing our way seemed to stick to her mind like glue. I guessed it was the hope that it gave her; that some all-powerful being actually cared about her. I almost wished I could believe in it, but I just couldn't force myself to. I believed in the city and its wonders, in parties and sex; not some god that said you could only have sex in the missionary position. I still smiled and encouraged Georgia though; I wasn't going to smash whatever faith she had. And, besides, I didn't care what she believed in. Whatever made her happy.

A warm breeze picked up, sending smoke flying into the cloudless blue sky away from the city. The city's smells floated on the wind; exhaust, smoke, food. The city air was always full of energy and today was no different.

"I'll come back," I told the city, flicking the cigarette butt into the grass. "Soon we'll be together again. I promise."

I got up and headed back inside. The nurse from before stopped me in the hallway and handed me an envelope. I thanked her and went back to the room, plopping down on my bed. Georgia was still watching CNN. The topic hadn't changed from communism. Who gave a fuck about what the Russian's government system was? Stupid paranoid politicians.

The letter was addressed to me in Mom's handwriting. A pit began to form in my stomach. What did she write me about? I almost didn't want to know. The last conversation I had had with her was still bothering me. Telling me to stop and get a real job. Was being a prostitute not a real job? I made money. She made money. We were okay.

What hadn't been okay?

The letter was written on a stained piece of plain printer paper. I opened it up.

Get clean.

I looked up from the two words. My eyes stung.

"Dakota. You. Have. To. Stop."

Her words echoed in my brain. My body senses went numb. Tears blurred my vision and I let myself collapse onto the mattress. The paper fell from between my fingers.

Why?

Thirteen. That was how old I was when Mom told me her job. That was when I decided I wanted to be a whore too. My first line of cocaine, first hit on a crack pipe. We were poor. Mom had to support Jordan and me. It had to be done to get us out of the rat-infested box we called home. I remembered pulling paint off the walls in my room in that old place. Once, one of our windows got shot out by someone on the street. We had to get out of there.

And Mom, she encouraged me.

"Smoke this, it'll make the pain go away."

My lungs hurt. Tears ran down my face. It was only two words. Two words from Mom.

"It's okay, Dakota," Georgia said. She sat on the bed behind me and rubbed my back. "I don't know what you've been through, but I ain't gonna hurt you." A strangled chuckle left me at her using my line.

It wasn't going to be okay. Not until I got back outside to Vegas. It could help me forget, take me under its wing. Letters from Mom wouldn't hurt me; I would be okay. Just fine. Just peachy. Vegas was my medicine.

"You chose Vegas over your own son..." I bit the inside of my cheek.

Did I really need to see Forrest, though?

I forced my arms to move. The picture of Forrest was on my nightstand. I rubbed the tears out of my eyes and grabbed the picture, holding it close to my face.

He was so chubby and cute. He looked so happy.

I wanted to see him, desperately.

I needed to see him, but that meant I would have to leave the city.

I will always love you.

Vegas would never let me go. But I had to leave. I had to. For Forrest.

I put the picture back on the nightstand and sat up. Georgia immediately embraced me, her fragile arms wrapping around my waist. She rested her chin on my shoulder.

"You'll be alright," she told me.

"Maybe." I turned around and hugged her back.

Maybe rehab wouldn't be too bad. Maybe I didn't need Vegas after all.

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i apologize for the sporadic updates, guys. i've started school and i go to both college and high school, but more importantly: i'm losing muse for this. (don't worry i won't ditch you for long i hope!) this part of the book is something i have next to no experience with and it's kinda difficult to write about. to all my christian readers out there, i could use your help with bible-y things! (and also i want to apologize for dakota omfg) i was born and raised a pagan; i know very little of the bible aside from the basic things and a couple stories. even then, i can only tell you "there was a bush that burned or something" and "that one guy got stuck in a whale", not who was involved nor their significance.

if anyone could point out some good bible stories that ya'll hear in church or heard in sunday school, i would greatly appreciate it! i'm going to say that dakota's learning the protestant interpretation of the bible. despite that, from whatever branch of christianity you are from, i want to know good stories from the bible to throw at dakota!

stay groovy ~