A/N: This starts with a flashback but it's very brief. There are extreme "mentions" of rape. If you don't like it, don't read it. This is "M" for a reason. Also has some swearing. This is my first Outsiders fic so please be nice... Please review, they make me type faster.
I walk up to the teacher and hand him my schedule that, for some reason, I must have signed. Yeah, there's a smart, useful idea. I wait for him to look up as the other students file in. Finally, he glances around the room and stands. The class goes silent, so he's that teacher… He looks at me and takes my schedule and signs it. Before handing it back, he looks it over.
"Emmalina Evanessa Elliot." He reads aloud. "Well that's a mouthful, Miss. Elliot.
"Yes sir, it is. That's why I use nicknames."
"So what should I call you?"
"I go by Emmalina or Lena… Or Nessie." I tell him.
"Nessie?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes sir. My brother calls me Nessie."
"Okay than Lena, you can sit back there with Mr. Curtis." He points and I turn to an obviously isolated brunette boy in the back of the room.
I make my way back there and sit next to the boy.
"Hello. I'm Emmalina Elliot. You can call me Lena." The boy looks up at me in surprise.
"I'm Ponyboy. Ponyboy Curtis." He answered, a smile lighting up his features.
"Lena?" I turn at the voice and see Ponyboy walk in the store with a tall blonde man in a black muscle shirt, showing arms riddled with scars, but, even so, he's by far the most beautiful man I've ever seen.
"Hey Pony." I respond, smiling at him. I step forward and hold my hand out to the blonde. "I'm Emmalina Elliot. You can call me Lena. Emma or Nessie. I respond to all three."
He looks shocked but shakes my hand anyway. "Dallas Winston. Dally." He responds slowly.
"Nice to meet you Dally," I look at Pony, "Hey, I forgot to ask you before but, did Mr. Stevens say we had to write the thesis AND the essay or did he say we could do either one?" He thinks for a moment and is about to answer when I feel my hand get tugged on.
"Lena? Carson sent me to tell you to come help with Michael." I look down at my sister, the nine-year-old looks up at me with clear blue eyes, exactly like mine. I crouch down to her level and ask, "Is he alright? Michael, I mean, Carson's on his own."
"He's fine but…" She trails off and looks up at Pony and Dally. I stand, knowing she won't say more about this until she does her thing. She fixes her eyes on Dally.
"Whoever you are," She begins, her thick British accent more pronounced due to her slow, clear, warning voice. She crosses her arms over her chest, a serious expression taking over her small, angelic features. "You're cute. So stay away from my sister or you're going to have to answer to me." The shock is plain in his eyes as his gaze flit to mine. I see, out of the corner of my eye, Pony stifling a laugh.
"Sorry Dally. This is my little sister, Emyle. She's nine going on twenty-five and she's VERY protective of me."
"Don't apologize." Emyle scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Men are pigs."
"Carson and Michael are men. Well, Michael's going to be a man." I protest.
"Our brother IS a pig and Michael is being raised around three girls." She points out.
"Wait," Dally intercedes, "So, from what I heard, this 'Carson' guy is your brother right?"
"Of course," My sister answers, " God, you're an idiot no wonder you're blonde."
"Umm, okay… So who's Michael?" He asks. Emyle looks at me and I shake my head.
"I'm sorry guys, I've gotta go. I'll see you at school tomorrow, Pony." I tell them, avoiding the question. I take Emmy's hand and we walk away to the bathrooms. When we get there, I see my brother crouching down in front of Michael, talking to him quietly, trying to stem the flow of tears.
"Michael, baby, what's wrong?" I ask. The three-year-old turns at the sound of my voice and he runs toward me. I bend down and pick him up, catching him at just the right time.
"Mommy, I've gotta use the potty but Uncle Carson keeps tryin' to take me to the wrong one." He slurs, his voice high and sweet like the three-year-old he is. (He is, of course, referring to the fact that Carson has tried to get him to go in the boys' bathroom but he's never been in one, he's only ever been to the girls', with me.)
"My-My, you know your uncle is crazy. C'mon, buddy, I'll help you and on our way home we can go get Cokes at the gas station. The good stuff, okay?"
"Okay Mommy." My son responds.
I finish unbuckling Michael from his car seat and hold, cocking my hip to the side and setting him against it. He wraps his legs around my waist and slings his left arm over my shoulders, bringing his right hand to his mouth and sucking on his thumb. My twin brother and younger sister stay in the car as I go into the store. We wander around a bit until I find my son's favorite brand of coke and bring it up to the counter. I watch the boy at the register as he rings me up. Suddenly, he looks up at me.
"Either I'm way hotter than I remember or I've got a third eye because you've been starin' miss."
I smile. "Sorry, you just look a lot like a kid I know. Do you know Ponyboy Curtis?" I ask him. He smiles and lets out a small laugh.
"Sure I do, he's my kid brother. I'm Sodapop Curtis, by the way. Soda for short."
"Pleasure to meet you, Soda. I'm Emmalina Elliot, Lena for short."
"So, what's a pretty girl like you doin' in greaser territory?"
"Getting Sodapop, ironically enough, it's Michael's favorite." I answer, gesturing to the coke. Michael looks at Soda and says, "I Michael."
"Hi buddy, I'm Soda, I got somethin' you might like," he pauses and looks at me, mouthing "M&M's". I nod and he continues, "Have you ever heard of M&M's?" Michael shakes his head. "Well, they're real good. They're chocolate too so if you like chocolate you'll love these."
Michael cocks his head to the side and responds, "Mommy says too much chocolate makes people really fat."
"Well yeah, it will, but that's only if you eat too much. You won't eat too much will you?"
"'Course not. Mommy won't let me," He looks at me, "will you Mommy." It wasn't a question.
Soda looks at me in surprise. "You're his mom?"
"Yeah."
"I know I'm never supposed to ask a girl this but, since you can't be more than 18, how old are you?"
"17. I had Michael when I was 14. Trust me, his… Conception… Wasn't my choice." I reply evenly. All the blood drains from Soda's face.
"You mean, you were, ya know…"
"Raped? Yes. You can say it, I'm not a pansy. It was that bastard's-"
"Mommy! No saying bad words!" Michael cuts in, once again taking his thumb from his mouth. He looks at Soda and says, "You said you'd give me chocolate."
Soda shakes his head as though to clear it and reaches under the counter and brings out two of the small packages of M&M's and hands them to my son. "One for now, one for later." Michael takes them in his hands and looks at me.
"I like him, Mommy. Can I go wait in the car with Uncle Carson?."
"Okay. But, My-My, stay where I can see you until you get there."
"A'right, Mommy." I put Michael down and watch as he pushes the door open and waits, looking both ways, before he passes, saying hi to Ponyboy as he walks up with Dally. Wait- Ponyboy? Well, at least Pony and Dally seem just as surprised to see me as I am to see them.
"Hey Lena." Ponyboy greets me.
"Hey Pony, hey Dally." I respond.
"Wait," Soda cuts in, "You've met Dally? And you can still greet him civilly?"
"Why wouldn't I? He seems sweet enough." Pony coughs, trying, and failing, to hide a laugh, "Well, at least he didn't hit my little sister when she mouthed off to him and that's more than I can say about the last tall, cute blonde boy that I've met." I reply, glancing over at Soda. Before he can react, the bell above the door rings, pulling my attention, and in walks the sister in question. She looks at Dally, barely giving Pony a second glance. Crooking her hip and crossing her arms over chest, she says, "I thought I told you to stay away from my sister, Blondie."
"Emyle Marie! I love you to death and you know that but please, please, stop being that way. You are my little sister, not my mother. You don't have to protect me."
"You're right. I'm not your mother. Our mother cares of nothing but herself and her drugs but since she is too stoned to care, your stupid twin is too irresponsible to deal with anything above elementary level and you, oh dear sister of mine, keep creating problems that blow up in MY face EVERY SINGLE TIME, it is a necessity that I protect you because you obviously can't do it yourself!" My sister finishes her little rant and Pony lets out a low whistle. I give her a small smile, trying to hide my guilt, everything she said, after all, is true, and say, "You're right, Em. Why don't you have Carson drive you guys home and I'll catch up later okay?"
"Absolutely not. How will you get home?"
"I'll walk, sis. It's okay."
"It most certainly is NOT okay. You could get lost. You could get-"
I cut her off. "Please." She goes wide eyes at the word. Well, not the word, so much as the force of the word. I had used my quiet, I'm-fighting-back-tears voice and she knows it. When she answers, her voice is calm too.
"Okay. Be back by midnight and please be safe. I can't lose another sister." With that, she hugs me for a second then is gone. I take a deep breath and I can feel myself losing the battle against my emotions and I turn to Sodapop. Voice thick, I ask, "Is there a back door I can go out?"
"Yeah it's over there," He points, "Are you sure you're okay?"
"M'fine." I mumble, feeling a few tears leak out. I turn and, wiping them away, walk to the back and leave. As soon as I'm out, I break into a jog and wander through the streets, waiting for myself to calm down.
An hour had passed by the time the tears stopped. I turn and start heading in the direction of my house but I know it's no use. I'd gone and gotten myself lost, just like Emyle had said. Even so, I keep walking. After about half an hour, I hear a car pull up behind me but I don't turn. I hear car doors slam and voices but I ignore them. Eventually, I feel a strong hand on my arm.
"Was such a pretty thing as you doin' in greaser territory?" A drunk voice slurs. "How 'bout you come with me and ma boys and we'll show you how much fun we can be."
"I can't but thank you for the offer." I reply in a sweet, innocent tone.
"Was your name girl?"
"Emma." I tell him. It's not a lie really, I mean, my name is EMMAlina…
"Well, Emma, it wasn't a question." And with that, he grabs me and throws me to the ground, causing me to crack my head on the pavement. I feel my shoulder and hip hit as well but the pain in my head is worse so I focus on that. I don't fight because I know that it goes a lot quicker if I just let them do whatever they want to me. I am, after all, only 17-year-old girl. What chance does a 17-year-old girl have against 5 men, all of them at least 20.
The man who grabbed me straddles me waist and rips off my T-shirt and, lifting himself up, he takes off my shorts as well. Next goes my undershirt and undergarments until I'm completely naked. I turn my head and look at the dark street, tears dripping down my cheeks as I feel him slide into me. I transport myself to another place, into a daydream, a fantasy, whatever you want to call it.
Finally, I hear him cry out as his release causes him to shudder with pleasure. He pulls out of me and tucks himself back into his jeans as I pull myself out of my silent reverie. He throws my clothes on top of me, covering my most intimate areas, and calls me a variety of horrible names. He and his friends pile in his car and drive away. After a few minutes, I try to sit up but fall back again and my eyes slide shut as pain courses through my body. I hear several slams but I keep my eyes closed. I feel a hand on my arm and I whimper, thinking it's those guys again.
"Dally! C'mere! This girl needs a hospital, help me carry her." An unfamiliar voice commands. Wait- Dally? As in Ponyboy's Dally? I hear foot steps and a low string of curses.
"Shit. Lena? Lena, please. Open your eyes. Can you do that for me? Can you open your eyes?" It is Dally. I force my eyes open and look at Dally's bright blue.
"Wait, do you know her?" The first voice says.
"Fuck, Dal! She's naked. I think I know what happened!" A new one puts in.
"Dallas." I whisper.
He reaches toward me and brushes my long black curls from my eyes. "I'm right here baby, it's okay, you'll be fine. I'll take care of you… And Lena? This might hurt a little." And with that, he lifts me in his arms. I scream when the burning pain turns to agony and press my face against Dally's strong chest to muffle the noise, tears pouring down my cheeks. By the time we stop moving, I've gathered that I'm in the back of a pick-up truck and that I'm still being held against Dally. I feel the truck dip as others get in. I feel myself losing consciousness. I move my head slightly so that, instead of my cheek touching him, only my temple is.
"I need a pen." I whisper. They don't ask questions, just shuffle around until someone finally finds one. I take Dally's arm from around my waist and take his hand gently in mine. Clicking the pen, I write in my usual loopy-but-beautiful calligraphy:
No hospital
Call 513-555-4545
Ask for Carson
Say I got drunk
Don't tell Emyle
Then I click the pen again and whisper, "Please, Dallas." before my eyes slide shut and I finally fall into a dark oblivion, my halfway delirious thoughts all focused on one thing.
Dallas Winston.
A/N: Hope you liked this chapter, I know, a little disturbing but at least Dally could save the day right? Please review. Reviews are like Dally saving an innocent girl. A.K.A. Rare (for me), but always welcome. *smiles*