A/N: S. E. Hinton owns all rights to the characters in The Outsiders and her other stories, I only own my imagination.
I hate being so scared all the time. It doesn't do me any favors when I'm tryin' to look tough and my insides are shaking like Jell-O. That's why I look up to people like Dally, and even Pony's brother Darry. They're tough, and I try to copy them when I get in fights. I hate fighting, it's useless, but sometimes there's no way around it. Like bein' in a rumble, or when my parents fight and throw things at each other, at me too; there's just no avoiding that, unless I get outta the house. I do that a lot.
Sometimes, when it gets real bad, I sleep in the lot since I don't have much else. It isn't too bad in the summer, but in the winter, I usually sneak into Two-Bit's or Pony's house and sleep on their couch when Steve isn't already using it. Anything's better than gettin' walloped every night, but that's the only time my old man knows I'm there. That scares me more'n anything. I don't want to end up like him or my mom.
Pony doesn't think I'll be the same as them; he thinks I'll be nicer, softer than them. I wish I could believe him. He sees things differently than I do, and sometimes it's just nice to have him listen to me. No one else seems to, but Dally and Pony, and Dally's in the cooler most of the time. If I could, I'd cut outta here so fast that my parents' heads would spin, and take my friends with me. I don't know where we'd go, but I don't care much about that anyway. I just wanna go someplace where I can be happy and safe. My parents wouldn't care, Dally's right, I know they wouldn't. But I want them to.
I can't remember a time when I wasn't scared. I've always been dodging everything from punches to beer bottles ever since I can remember. That's enough to make even the bravest man a little jumpy, I guess. It got worse after I got jumped by those Socs. I started shakin' real bad, and the nightmares are the worst part. Sometimes I don't sleep because I don't wanna dream about what happened. The gang's been good about not scarin' me, but sometimes one of 'em forgets. I don't hold it against 'em at all; they can't help it if I can't say 'boo' to a goose. Smoking helps ease the tension most days. I started when I was nine after stealing a pack from my mom's purse. I don't smoke real often, though. It gets old after a while, and it just can't compare to the feeling of safety I get when I'm with the gang. That's what really helps.
'Course, I don't tell them all that, since no one but Pony would really care anyway, but even he just seems to know how much they mean to me. Sometimes I'm afraid that I'll run out of words one day if I ever tell the gang how much I like bein' around them. That might be why I don't talk too much. Besides, Two-Bit could easily talk for all of us if he tried. I swear he's gonna talk himself to death one of these days. I think that there's no value in words if you use them too often. Maybe silence really is golden. I know it is to me.