Disclaimer: The Outsiders belong to S. E. Hinton and I am just borrowing her characters and adding some of mine.
A/N at the end, as always. Note: this story is not like Always Yours; it's not recommended for younger readers. R/R!
Skin and Bones
Drugs, sex, violence and alcohol was what she lived for.
1. I Know Exactly What You Mean
"Here," Delilah said, passing the joint over to Tim.
"Thanks, Dell." He inhaled, intoxicated by the drug. "I dig this. It's much better than the shit that Eddie dealt me."
"Yeah, I get it from George. He doesn't live here."
"Well you better get me the motherfucker's number cos this stuff is great!"
"Will do." She chuckled. Delilah, or Dell, as she liked to be called, was raised up in the gangs up north. "I think I'm staying here for good. The older bro seems to get a real kick outta jumping socs."
"Ah, it's fun at first but now...I got other things to do." He said, turning his head over to the table which was covered with white powder, green herbs, bottles of bourbon and cigarettes.
"I know exactly what you mean." She replied, taking another swig of scotch. Tim put down the joint and sauntered over to Dell. He pulled her body towards his and she wasn't refusing.
"Rape me." She murmured, still high and drunk.
Dell woke up on the cold, hard floor beside Tim, who was passed out. She thought nothing of this; she was used to waking up beside strangers; getting raped daily was part of her day-to-day life and she'd accepted it. If she got pregnant, then she dealt with it. Dell walked over to the dining table and lit up another joint.
"Good morning, Dell." Tim muttered. The hangover was taking place.
"Yeah, good three-in-the-morning to you too." She replied, staring into space. Nothing could harm her when she was this intoxicated. "I'm goin' for a walk."
"Be careful." He said half-heartedly.
"Don't need to be." Dell replied, walking out and slamming the door as usual. She carried a pistol, loaded with one bullet, with her at all times. Dell found it hardly necessary to shoot more than once. A good aimer, she was.
The east side of Tulsa, unlike the other parts of Tulsa, was quiet and eerie. The atmosphere had this unusual intensity about it-maybe it was just the marijuana speaking. Dell didn't really care and kept strolling around. She found a park nearby and decided to stop and get another alcohol fix.
Her flask was safely hidden in her inner jacket pocket. The flask was a shiny silver; there were also visible scratches; showing that it had been used for many years. It was one of the last things she had left to remember her father by. 'He wouldn't be proud of the person I've become.' Dell thought.
A cobalt blue Mustang drove up behind her. She reached for her gun, but decided to keep it in her pocket for the time being.
"Well looky here." A drunken soc said to the others that were still in the car. "A greaser girl."
Dell remained silent, but her upper lip slightly twitched.
"Let me grease you up..." He said, walking towards her. She ran her fingers through her dry golden-brown hair and soc led her into his car and she followed obediently. They drove off into the distance and he said one thing and one thing only, "Let the fun begin."
A/N: Unlike my other story, this one has only been spellchecked and nothing else, so my grammar/sentences may or may not make sense. Sorry if some parts drag on longer than they should. Always up for some abusive reviews! :)