DISCLAIMER: I don't own The Outsiders, because it respectively belongs to S.E. Hinton.

Enjoy!


Johnny's POV:

I JOLTED awake to the sounds of my parents arguing and glass shattering. As crazy as it sounds, this was actually starting out to be a good day with the yelling and fighting. Sometimes my father would just barge in and beat me until I could hardly move; it didn't matter what time of day it was, except for Christmas. On Christmas, he'd leave me alone for a little bit, but he would still get drunk or high or whatever. I just didn't see the point in staying here anymore; all he ever did was hit me and I couldn't stand it.

Sitting up, I sighed and rubbed at my tired eyes. It was nice being able to wake up peacefully for a change, but something seemed very strange. I could barely make out what my parents were saying through the paper-thin walls, so I leaned closer and strained my ears to try and listen.

"What do you mean that damn kid ain't mine? Have you been cheating on me?!" My father shouted. I could picture him standing before my mother, his face bright red and his eyes bulging in anger.

"How can you not understand what I'm tellin' you? The little shit ain't yours 'cause I fucked up again; I forgot to take birth control!" My mother screamed back.

So she cheated again? Why the hell am I not surprised?

There was a deafening silence until I heard the palm of someone's hand coming in contact with another's cheek, making me wince at the crisp sound that reverberated throughout the house.

"You stupid whore! I can't believe you would go screw another man behind my back like that! Who in the hell do you think you are?!"

That was when I chose to pull my head back and sat there silently. What in the world was going on? I knew that Momma had cheated on my Dad with another man and that she was supposedly going to have a baby. But what would happen after that?

Would I have to protect a new baby sibling from my abusive parents, as well?

Would they just completely ignore the baby and force the responsibility onto me?

Would Momma have an abortion just so she wouldn't have to worry about bringing another human into this world?

I got out of bed and prepared to dress for the day. This morning I wore a gray T-shirt and a pair of jeans that were somewhat clean. My wardrobe wasn't really decent, but what else could you expect from a seventeen-year-old greaser boy? As I was tying my shoelaces, I heard Momma yelling my name from downstairs; her voice made me flinch.

"Johnathan! Get down your ass down here this minute!" She had slight hoarseness in her voice from smoking and drinking. I shrugged on my jacket and made my way downstairs, preparing for them to beat me and yell at me like they always do. They would always argue about something and then take it out on me for no apparent reason. I'll probably have to stay at the Curtis' for a few days; it wouldn't be safe here. Hell, I could be gone for a whole week if I wanted to and they wouldn't even realize.

Making my way down the stairs, I saw my father pacing around the living room. Momma was glaring at him from the couch, a hand resting on her stomach as she kicked her feet onto the ottoman.

"Yes, Mom?" I asked nervously, trying to hide the fact that I was scared to death. I wasn't really in the mood to be hit or anything. She just rolled her eyes at my question, obviously pissed off.

"We need to talk, Johnathan. So I'm just gonna be blunt. I cheated on your father again and now I'm pregnant. We don't want anything to do with the little bitch, so it's gonna be your responsibility. You'll be the one to take care of it if you want to. Hell, you can even give it up for adoption or burn it for all I care! I just don't wanna see that brat after it's born. Understand?" She snarled.

I kept quiet as I looked down at my sneakers, nodding my head to show that I was still listening. What she said definitely shocked me, but not the fact that she was pregnant or had cheated on Dad; that already happened too often. She was pregnant before though, with a little boy that had left this world before he should've. My mother had taken a lot of drugs while she was carrying him – even though I was sure I'd disposed of every single bottle in the cabinets – and as a result, my baby brother was stillborn.

He had been dead for two years and they didn't even bother with naming him. I've always called him Samuel Joseph Cade; after my grandfather who died of cancer when I was eight. On the day Samuel was born, the doctors said Momma had smiled so widely it worried them. I never knew why she was so happy that day and it honestly scared me, as did the doctors. I knew she would get upset if I kept pestering her, but I had to keep asking questions. The worst thing she could do was kick me out.

"How far along are you?" I questioned. She was a scary woman; to say that I was frightened was an understatement. . . I was absolutely petrified! Momma rolled her eyes at me; I knew she was livid.

"Two months, so the little devil will be born in December." She huffed, running her hands through her hair in frustration. "And the worst thing about it is that I can't drink or anything! Sure, I've laid off a little since I found out, but I still have another seven months of hell!" She clenched her fists in anger as she glared down at her slightly swollen stomach.

Of course, all she's ever gonna complain about is how she can't get drunk or high until the baby is born! She wouldn't give a shit about anything else, would she?! Not me or the baby. . . it's always been about the booze, drugs, and money!

Despite how mad I was, I gulped and tried to remain calm. I had to get as much information as I could out of Momma without making her mad.

"How long have you known?" She frowned furiously at my question, shaking her head. I was beginning to tread on thin ice.

"Three weeks," Momma was clenching her fists as she spoke, her knuckles turning a pasty white from how hard she was squeezing. My father had left the house while we were talking, so it was just the two of us. Suddenly she stood up from the sofa; her eyes were hard and cold. I knew what this meant from past experiences, but I was mentally prepared for it.

"Now get out of here!" She shrieked. And boy, nobody had to tell me twice. I rushed through the house and to the backdoor, grabbing a banana on my way out.


Wow. . . longest prologue I've ever done!

Let me know what you thought in the comments. More baby drama starts in the next chapter!


XOXO - Madi!