She eyes me like a pisces when I am weak
I've been locked inside your Heart-Shaped box for weeks
I've been drawn into your magnet tar pit trap

Nirvana – Heart-Shaped Box


Chapter Twelve

Dallas Winston

I watched her walk away, it's like every time I'm getting somewhere with her something, or in this case someone interrupts.

"That's quite a skirt you got yourself." Tim also admiring her as she left. "I like her fiery personality she's got herself. Original."

"Yeah, she's sure somethin' different. But she ain't mine. I'm thinking about being a lone wolf for a while." I lied, slightly.

"Fucking liar. She's got you tied around her little finger. I don't know but she's been passed around far too much for my taste. I'm into those virgins." Tim snickered to himself.

"Shut-up, asshole. Can we just get down to why we're here?"

"Whatever you want." He shrugged, too nonchalant. It pissed me off. Tim pissed me off.

I raised my fist readying to throw and punch, but Tim beat me to it. Throwing a direct hit to my jaw. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, it was bitter and disgusting and I quickly spit out as much as I could.

Swiftly I swung my arm, my pain turning to anger I punched him hard in the gut. I must've hit him harder than I thought because he actually winced and glanced down at his stomach. Perfect opportunity for me to get a hit at his jaw. My fist collided with his jawbone, and a quiet cracking noise was heard. Blood spilled from his mouth and he spit and spit before finally standing up straight again. His eyes just scream fury alone, glaring icily at me. His jaw seems slightly out of line and his appearance was actually somewhat scary. His left fist aims for my collarbone but I attempt to duck out of the way. Fucking horrible idea, I cursed mentally, as his left fist comes in contact with my eye instead. Squinting through the throbbing pain I try to get another hit in but it was really no use. My eyesight was blurry and he was at an advantage.

A blow to the gut sends me to my knees; an almost inaudible groan escapes my lips. But Tim heard it, a smirk firmly plastered on his face. Then there's a kick to the ribs, another one, then another. I try to pry myself off the ground, and to stand again. But with possible broken ribs, it caused a lot of pain. Not to mention Tim still beating on me didn't help me either.

Finally I was able to stand again, and my eyesight was somewhat regained. Making out Tim's dark figure I throw a reckless punch not seeing where exactly I aimed. Another crack was heard, The nose, I think smugly knowing that it was now throbbing and bleeding like a bitch.

"Fuck." Tim snarled. "Fucking fuck."

I grinned to myself, thinking of my next move. But Tim recoiled faster than I thought he would, another punch to my jaw and a harder one to my nose. The blood seemed to pour out in pools. But I didn't think he'd broken it, or maybe I just couldn't tell because it had been broken so many time before. I lifted my jacket sleeve up and held it under my nose, while also spitting blood from my mouth again. I was doing really badly tonight, I never got too beaten up in a one-on-one , skin-to-skin fight. Now I was pretty sure my nose and a couple ribs were broken.

Tim kicked me behind the knees, and I fell not expecting that at all. That wasn't a "Tim Move". His boot lifted off the groan, zooming in my direction. I leaned away as quickly as possible and heard his foot swish past me. My fighting and tolerance was weak tonight, and I knew with just a blow to the head, Tim would have me in.

Tim obviously knew to, as he then lifted his combat boots of the gravel attempting to hit me right in the center of the forehead. But I was just full of bad moves tonight. When I was trying to swivel out of his target, I got kicked in the fucking temple instead.

It was a hard kick, and I quickly grew dizzy. My head pounding and throbbing just at the sound of Tim's boots hitting the gravel again, as Tim walked away. Most likely smirking to himself, he clearly had the brag rights now. He'd kicked Dallas Winston to the curb, literally.

White specs blurred my vision and my head pounded like a Sunday morning hangover when you partied the two nights before. I couldn't even force myself off the road yet, I was nauseous and dizzy. I felt like I was either going to pass out or puke. Or maybe even both.

Ten minutes or maybe even more I must've lain on the hard ground. I could've stayed there all night, it was obviously going to be painful getting back on my feet. But the bright headlights on an oncoming car broke my misery session. It was either: Get up or just fucking die.

I weighed my options for a second. Was getting up even worth it? The pain in my head and ribs was saying no. But Tim ain't getting the satisfaction of finishing me off. Bad enough that son of a bitch just left me here on the side of the road. Who the hell leaves a half-conscious man just to lay in the road? Idiots, do. Fucking idiots.

I staggered up from the gravel where I had been laying it was surprisingly hard, but maybe that's to be expected when you may have a concussion.

The car that had been zooming out the street abruptly swerved out of the way, trying to avoid hitting me. In the process, because he's obviously not a good driver if he can't handle little obstacles, almost hit the curb. And I laughed.

"Dallas Winston?" I peered into the car to see Curly Shepard. "Well if I had known it was her lazy ass I would've just ran ya over."

"Funny." I said, but found this guy anything but. "I don't think your ex would 'ppreciate that much, do you?"

The look on his face was just hilarious, and I'm pretty sure mentally he was running me over with that clearly stolen car. The guy must've been smitten on Houston. You almost gotta feel bad for the poor fella; but then you remember it's Curly Shepard and you forget you even thought of thinking of that.

"You're an ass. The was a low blow y'know?" He sneered.

"I know." Smirk.

"So whattya say you give me a ride to Buck's, man?" A sound escaped Curly, and it sounded like a snort. What did he have on Houston for her to stick around so long? Must be bad, really, bad. Like she fucked Principal Crushly bad.

"Yeah, you are thicker than I thought if you thought I'd give you a ride anywhere. You're a fake loser, who thinks he's like god or something when everyone hates you. Houston will realize this one day too, and she'll be runnin' back into my arms. Not your bed."

That got to me, I wanted to punch in square in the face. Make his nose bleed out, and make it forever crooked a screwed up. I wanted to screw him up so bad that people would cringe at the sight of him. Because you just don't talk shit to Dallas Winston.

So, instead of blowing a gasket and losing my cool, I pulled a Two-Bit. I really hang around that dumbass way too much.

I lifted one hand to flip him the traditional bird. While the other was a flipped fuck you sign, making it come down to meet in the middle.

"You know what this is?" I say. Curly gives me a weird look.

"It's a fuck you tower!" He didn't laugh, his face in a grim line and he booted that engine up, seeming to race down the road to get away from me. I however, despite all the frickin' pain I was in chuckled to myself, loudly and obnoxiously.

How hard did Timmy kick me in the head?

I lay in my lovely bed at Buck's, finally able to stop moving. It was Friday and the music was blasting but it was better than walking around. My body ached and my head ached and I was exhausted.

Also, I thought nagged at my mind; Where the hell was Houston?

There was a loud knock on my bedroom door, and I groaned in frustration more movie. I staggered my way to the door and Buck faced me on the other side.

"I thought I told ya' no disruptions, I'm in pain and your presence pisses me off." I was being mean, and saying the truth but Buck still laughed.

"I got um, Johnny and Horseboy, Cowboy, Pone—you know what I'm too drunk to remember but it was some type of animal. But yeah, those two are downstairs, they said they'd need you. It's urgent apparently."

I had a cynical mind and Johnny and urgent in the same sentence automatically gave me bad vibes.

"Lead me to 'em." And I was soon pushing my way through the crowd.

Johnny and Pony looked out of place and you could spot the pair from the top of them steps. They weren't drinking, they weren't dancing, just standing there like two lumps.

"What do you guys want?" I asked

"Johnny killed a Soc." Ponyboy mumbled, not even lifting his off the ground. He's shitting me, I was almost gonna laugh—but Pony don't kid with me. That's the part I didn't get. Johnny couldn't kill, Johnny couldn't even upset someone's feelings without getting all torn about it.

"What? Okay, good for you. Let's go."

I signalled them to follow me back to the second floor and they followed close behind, trying to avoid all the drunk greasers, just like those prude Soc chicks, I snickered under my breath.

"Well I figured you could get us out if anyone could, Dal. I- I'm sorry I got you away from this party and all but I just don't know what to do, man." Johnny muttered quietly and panicked.

I shrugged, "Nah. I was just uh... I was just trying to get some sleep. I got in a fight with Shepard tonight. Wait a minute. Let me think about this mess. Get in."

We made it up to my room again, and let me tell you, I hate stairs. But Johnnycakes here, luckily hate a good reason to come knockin' for me and I was gonna help him out of this mess. He was like my little brother.

I watched the two of them leave, fifty dollars in hand, and a loaded gun. They'd be in Windrexville by mourning, I'd be visiting in a few days. But what was I supposed to tell the Curtis brothers?

Man, and what if Johnny gets hauled in because they get caught. Johnny can't go to jail. When you get sent to the cooler you end up like me. Cold and alone. I wouldn't let Johnny experience that.

I ran my hands through my blonde hair, fidgeting and full of anxiety. I shouldn't have left the kids. I should've been there. Now, I got Johnny one the run and a chance at jailtime. This was my entire fucking fault. If I was there, this mess wouldn't be happening right now.

Where the fuck is Houston every time I actually need her?

Not here.

I kicked the bed post in frustration and flung myself onto the bed. Soon I was out.

"Ow!" A rustle. "Fucking…"

I rolled over, flicking my eyes open. Whatevers making noise outside woke me up, and the reality is I'm not impressed.

Unwillingly my body lagged over to the window, and when I looked out I came face to face with Houston. Being the odd and ridiculous girl she was, she was climbing the vines that led up to my small bedroom window. If I was under any other circumstances I would laughed, but I was pissed off at her for not being here tonight when I needed on her, and I was already going out of mind with worry about Johnny. So right now it was annoying.

"What the hell are you doing? Are you a retard?" She grabbed my hand and pulled herself into the room.

"Why did you climb up to my window? Are you that fucking stupid? You could've fell and broke your neck. That was just a dumb thing to do." She just shrugged it off and went over to lie on my bed.

Let me tell you, it pissed me off.

"Why did you climb the goddamn vines when there's a perfectly good door and set of stairs leading up here?" I seethed.

"I was bored it seemed like a fun thing to do, plus, Curly was done there and I don't wanna face him because… reasons." I gave her a blank stare.

"You're unbelievable."

I watched her eyes graze over my chest. She didn't even try to hide it. I smirked,

"Like what you see, babe?"

"Yeah, I would've. But Timmy seemed to have ruined everything there was to like. Did you even get those cuts cleaned?" I then remembered my fight with Tim, and the pain seemed to instantly come back as I was reminded.

"No."

"Let me clean them, then."

"No."

"Dallas…"

"No."

"We could go over to Nick's then." I remembered Nick and Houston sharing jokes on his couch, laughing and sitting close.

"No. You can clean them. But I'm not saying thanks."

She laughed "I didn't expect you to. You're Dallas."

She pulled me out of my room into Buck's bathroom. I was seated on the edge of the tub while she grabbed the first-aid kit out of the cabinets. All this wasn't really necessary but whatever made her feel better. Honestly the things we men do for women are unreal. And all those broad's do in return is nag, and disappear for hours.

I updated yay! I might stop the Dallas P.O.V's just because I like Houston's character better. She's funnier and her feelings are easier to write. But I also feel like we needs some Dallas, too. Your opinion on that? Also, I have the last chapter written up. I skipped past the rest of the middle 'cause the ending popped into my head and I like it so far! So I hope when the time comes you will too! Thanks for the great reviews guys! And would you mind checking out my other Dallas story "Learning To Be Free"? I'd love you forever! Xo, Lee