Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders, but Jane is mine, mine, mine. I also do not own Because Of You by Kelly Clarkson.
August 5, 1969
I sat down on the couch and wondered what the fuck I'd gotten myself into. I was definitely in trouble this time. Big trouble. Trouble I wasn't sure I was going to be able to get out of. Trouble that even Tim couldn't undo. I was fucked, and I didn't have a clue what I was going to do next.
Tim would be home soon, and I knew he'd know what I had done. He wouldn't be angry; he'd be disappointed. To tell you the truth, I'd rather him cuff me upside the head for doing something stupid than to have him disappointed and speechless.
Just when Tim thought that I'd grown up, I went and did something stupider than anything I'd ever done before. My life was literally falling to pieces, and all I could do about it was sit and wait.
The waiting.
A seconds felt like minutes, and minutes felt like hours. I was suppose to be more careful, and I wasn't suppose to get fucking caught doin' anything. I was a fucking Shepard for Christ's sake. I was supposed to be smart, calm, cool, and collected—just like Tim. And I was getting there. I really was. I was staying outta trouble, settling down with Janey, and Tim actually had put a little faith into me.
But that was all gone now; I'd blown it. Any second, and it'd be over. I wouldn't have to grow up anymore because I'd be in the slammer for the rest of my life. I was gonna die in prison, just like the 'ol man. It was everything Tim didn't want and it was all happening today.
I looked at the yellow stained wall. I wasn't going to panic, because it was only gonna make matters worse. Jane wasn't gonna forgive me. Not this time. I was lucky enough to get her back once. And as stubborn as the girl was, and as much as I fucking hated her sometimes, I loved her so much more; though I'd never admit it. I was suppose to marry her someday. That was my plan, and my plan was completely and utterly fucked because I couldn't do anything right.
In jail by twenty. That had to be some kind of Shepard record. I leaned back in the couch and closed my eyes. I wasn't scared. Prison didn't scare me, and I'd been there enough times to know how to look at people and how to talk to people. Prison, I could deal with. It was being so close to perfection and then watching slowly fade away that had me scared.
I couldn't even begin to think what I had done, because it was something I'd never in a million years thought I was capable of doing. To tell you the truth, I hated myself for it. I never in my life regretted something so much.
I always thought making mistakes was a part of life, and the only way you were gonna learn anything worth knowin' was if you fucked up once in awhile. But this…This was different. I knew I'd done wrong, and if I thought about it for too long, I would fucking bawl; I hadn't since I was eight, and our dog got run over by a truck. Tim told me to suck it up and be tough like him, and I did. I sure as hell wasn't gonna start bawling again anytime soon.
I ran my hand through my hair, frustrated. In tough situations, I would always ask myself what Tim would do. What he would want me to do. Usually I'd come up with some kind answer, but this time I really needed Tim there, 'cause I had no fucking clue what to do.
Tim had pretty much raised Angel and me. With him, the number one thing was family, always. Family came first no matter what the situation. I did whatever it took to protect them; It just came naturally and it was why I was in the shit I was in now. And I didn't regret what I did for a second. I'd do it again in a heartbeat—but for once in my life, I didn't know what the fuck to do with myself.
I quickly jumped out of my seat when I heard Tim's car roll into the driveway. I stood there as the door quickly flew open.
"Tim," I said, ready to explain myself. I didn't know what I was going to say, but I was sure something was going to come out of my mouth., whether I wanted it to or not. I was really infamous for opening my mouth at the wrong time.
He was looking at me. He didn't look angry or disappointed, and he wasn't panicking; he was just looking at me like he had a plan. He always had a plan. Always.
He sighed and pulled me into a hug. It was the first time in a long time he'd given me a hug.
And that's when I knew; I knew I was going to prison for a long, long time.
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