BATTERED AND BRUISED:
Scream, shout, and he burst out of the doors to his little, broken house, the screen door SLAM behind him. Leaping over the porch steps, sprinting across the lawn and turning the dark empty street corner that paved a sidewalk going on and on, anywhere, just please, further away from them. Full speed down the street, hot tear streaming down his bruised and cut face. He flew down the concrete sidewalk, lit by dim, flickering street lamps, passed the park; "You're back?" disdain rolling off their tongues, "Why do you even bother coming back?! I thought we showed you the last time you little faggot bitch!" "No one loves you! No one wants you!"; He could hear their vile, cruel, drunk voices hollering in his head. He bolted across the street, sobs catching in his throat, choking him; SMACK! CRASH! Kitchen ware clattered, bottles shattered and his body hard BASH against the drywall of his 'home'; He could feel the pain of every hit, feel the sting of the back of his hand against his face and the burn of her kitchen knife in his arm; He ran. He ran so fast, so hard, he couldn't feel his legs. He couldn't see, his vision blurred with tears, but it didn't matter, he knew his way there, he knew it by heart. Every turn, every bump in the road every twist. He knew where he wanted to go, where he needed to go. He ran. Ran passed the park, passed lot, even passed the Curtis's house. He ran.
He wouldn't stop running. Not until he heard the music playing and the lights shinning. 3 A.M, He opened the door, limped inside and was immediately hit with the smells cheap cologne, alcohol and cancer sticks. Many where passed out on the floor or on couches, that god awful country music still blasted and even so there were still people standing, but he pushed his way quietly through groups of strippers and drunks, choking on the heavy nicotine air. He made his way up the stairs. The third third door on the second floor to the right. That's what he'd told him, where he could always depend on finding him when he really needed it. He'd be there, oh god, he hoped he'd be there. He needed him again, and he was tired of running. And now, there he stood in front of the door. He turned the knob quietly and shut it again without a sound. The only noise it that could be heard now was the faint background noise of music and his light breathing. Johnny sighed, still crying but now fighting them back. It hurt, but he would help...
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READ THE NEXT CHAPTERS...THEY ARE SHORT BUT DEAL WITH IT BECAUSE I UPDATE THEM ALOT...
(the "..." on the last word means story is continued on the next chapter my peeps!!!
LOVE THE OUTSIDERS, FAVE OUTSIDERS/BOOK COUPLE PAIRNG EVER!!!!! 8D
so good together, yes they are and you know it...
i hope you enjoy the rest of this fic!
-DON'T FLAME ME CUZ YOU AINT ME!!!-