Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own "The Outsiders" or any of the Curtis' Gang. Sigh. The real owner of "The Outsiders" is my favorite author, the fabulous S.E. Hinton. I also do not make a profit from the stories that I write here on this site.
A/N: I have done my research on abuse and I hope that I can write it with respect. Home shouldn't hurt and if you are abused or suspect that somebody is abused, please contact social services or guidance counselor or some other trusted adult. You are not alone.
I don't think that a story like this has ever been written, but then again, there are almost 9,000 stories, so I'm not sure. This is an AU or a what-if, depending on his you look at it.
Some characters may seem OOC, but that's normal because of the abuse.
Darry: 20
Ponyboy: 13-almost-14
Soda: 16
Sodapop's POV
I kept my arm wrapped securely around my baby brother, hoping that dad had gotten his latest fix and wouldn't bother us again tonight, while also hoping that Darry was safe too.
Ponyboy resented Darry a lot. He said that Darry tried to act like our father, which was true, but he also thought that Darry was dad's favorite because he was never abused, but that was all a lie. He had bit hit many times before, but I liked to get Ponyboy away before anyone could get hit.
Darry worked as a roofer to pay for the bills. Pony thought that the some of the money Darry got was actually dad's. Well, that's sort of true. Dad sold drugs and mom, well, my mom was another story.
She had always done drugs, but she managed to get dad to start them when Ponyboy was three. Darry and I were lucky enough to be healthy when we were born, but Pony was born early and mom didn't breastfeed him enough, leaving him smaller then all his classmates, especially since he was moved ahead a grade. I was dumb, though, never able to concentrate.
Contrary to Pony's beliefs, Darry had been hit before, but most of it wasn't around Ponyboy and Darry kept his mouth shut whenever he was hurt.
The gang didn't now about the abuse. Mom and dad were all nice when they were around, offering cake and a place to stay to keep up the facade, no one would believe us anyway and the teachers wouldn't care if we came to school with bruises.
Dad made sure to leave bruises that couldn't be seen, but the physical and verbal abuse had more repercussions on our spirits than on our bodies. Bruises healed quick, but some wounds left permanent scars. Our innocence had been stolen by the harsh realities of greaser life at a young age.
It wasn't fair and the bitterness was building up in all of us. It was present in Darry's cold, hard eyes. It was present as a scared and kicked puppy in Johnny. It was bitter and wild in Dallas and It was a humorous facade in Two-Bit. In me it was hidden a movie-star smile and in Ponyboy, it was the reason that he had retreated into his quiet, jumpy shell of the once innocent daydreamer of his youth. These were our coping methods, but they never seemed to dull the aching wish for something better.
Johnny's POV
I was sitting on the Curtis's front porch with Ponyboy, smoking. He seemed jumpier than usual today, I bet the Socs were bothering him because it really hot out and he was in a T-shirt and jeans, while I had my shirt off. They problem got a hold of his ribs or something and he was hiding the bruises or something.
"Why don't you put on some shorts, Ponyboy?" I asked softly. He barely acknowledge me, shaking his head.
"Why not? Are you sick?" I asked, concerned. If he wasn't uncomfortable in the heat, he had to be sick or something.
"I got homework to do," he mumbled hurriedly, leaving to his room.
Moments later Mr. Curtis pulled into the drive.
"Hey Johnny," he slurred. Odd, he barely ever got drunk. I didn't want to deal with a drunk so I left to go to my house to deal with two drunks.