Run, Run, Run.

Born in the midst of sunrise, Bebe Gold has spent her twenty one years racing the sun just like the day she was born.
 
Bebe is a vivacious young woman with a taste for liquor, cigarettes, beating bikers at pool and sleezy motel rooms and silk dressing gowns.
 
Her upbringing is not entirely stereotypical and yet so very much so. The early years were bright, she was nine when their happiness fell into a dark and despairing pit. No one really knows why. Someone just, one day, turned off the light switch. Since then, the family is still together but together by loosely woven strings. They are brought together at holidays and birthday by obligations; not love.
 
Bebe left home at sixteen, she returned once an adult and took her fifteen year old sister, Cherokee Rose, with her when she left. Three years later; they still tour the country with the top of Bebe's robin egg blue sticker covered convertible down.
 
There was a time when it was just Cherokee and Bebe but, one day, after a destiny induced run in on a beach and a thirteen hour date, Bebe Gold fell in love with a drifter by the name of Jackson Mann. He had green eyes and a haphazard smile, scruffy and a guitar. He was gruff. He was sweet to her sister and he made Bebe's heart explode. She made his life complete. They scheme together, steal together, know each other.
 
Bebe holds secrets, many secrets. Largely, she is live and let die, her insides are well known apart for one tiny little detail; why does she do what she does?
 
Her life may have seen it's struggles, but never dark enough to run. And to keep running even with her baby sister and love at her side. To never settle, to dance in the middle of a hurricane.
 
Cherokee Rose frequently looks to her sister when they're driving down an unknown road in the middle of the night, Jackson snoring in the back. "Why, Bebe, Why?"she always asks and Bebe always answers with that gap-toothed smile.
 
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This is a character in the 'novel' I'm writing for NaNoWrimo. Don't hold me to it though, I write little (very little) every day and I got a late start...I hope I write all that I wish to write and don't suddenly stop and forget about it all. I have very few and vague ideas about it all but isn't that what makes it fun?
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