Heads up: I will be going away on vacation for a few days. There isn't any internet, so I won't be posting for a while. But I'm not giving up on the story and will return to it, so keep reading and reviewing. Thanks!

Curly woke up to pain. Nothing new there. For a second, Curly Shepard forgot everything that has been going on for the pass two days. He couldn't remember why he would be waking up to pain and that caused his brain to overwork for answers.

The ropes restraining his hands, arms, and legs was new.

He groaned as he felt the crisp of dried blood below his nose to his chin. He tasted the all too familiar taste of iron in his mouth. He lifted his head and opened his eyes to be confronted by 5 Socs. Everything came flowing back.

That's right. These assholes nicked him from the DX lot. Oddly enough, Curly wasn't frightened. Not feeling frightened in what would normally be scary situations worried him. Not that he would ever tell anyone. (Well, maybe he'd tell Ponyboy.) He always knew he was use to a violent lifestyle, but he never thought he'd be this use to it. Just how much had be witness to no longer feel frightened by violence?

Curly groaned again but for an entirely different reason.

Tim was going to kill him.

"Looks like Mr. Tough finally woke up."

Curly wanted to say something clever back, but he couldn't think of anything over the horrible odor attacking his nose.

There was a thick smell of rot, piss, and wet wood. He instantly knew he was at the abandon house at the end of Trinity Street. He's been here plenty of times hiding out or busting Socs parties with Tim and his gang.

At least I know where I am. The boy thought.

"We had planned on capturing the smaller Curtis, but you'll just have to do."

Curly gave a death glare at the mention of Ponyboy.

"I'm a lot funnier than, Baby Curtis. I promise." Curly grinned.

The leader grinned back. "I don't doubt it."

The four Socs sitting in chairs behind their mater suddenly stood.

"Oh, if ya don't mind, my boys here wanna have some fun with ya before I deal with ya." His grin grew.

So did Curly's. "Well then, don't keep me waiting." He voice got lower. Dangerous for a boy tried to a chair. "I was wondering we the fun was going to start."

There was defiantly something wrong with the way they all lived their lives.

The fours Scos started walking to him, cracking their knuckles. Curly struggled against his restraints.

Curly Shepard did not have a plan.

"Aw," Curly gave an actor's disappointment. "Just skin?"

The leader chuckled.

The Soc with blonde hair was the first to throw a punch. It collided with his jaw. The punch wasn't strong enough to crack the bone but he figured that was the point. The rest joined in throwing punching at his face and stomach and kicking his legs; all hard enough to leave bruises.

They didn't want to break him just yet.

The gang bashing went on for a minute or more. Long enough to where Curly he feel his now sensitive skin start to swell up. He felt iron build in his mouth and on his face. He wasn't going to be able to fight, much less move pain free, for a while after this.

The leader stood up. It had gone on long enough. "Stop."

The four Socs stopped and looked back at their master.

"My turn." The leader's smile was evil.

He flicked out a blade. The Socs back away as the leader came forward.

Curly swallowed dryly. His eyes went from the blade to the leader's dark eyes.

"No skin. Only this." He wiggled the blade and brought it to Curly's throat.

Curly pulled his head back.

"Don't worry, little warrior. I'm not going to kill you. That's the rule, isn't it? I just wanna see you bleed. And scream."

The leader pulled the knife back and grabbed two handfuls of Curly's shirt, and ripped the fabric off the boy's body. He held the tip of the blade at the center of Curly's chest before slowly dragging it down his torso. A sharp fire was born. But it was small and nothing Curly hadn't experience many times before.

The leader flicked the blade away. "Just a warm-up." He smiled.

The cold blade returned to his skin covering his ribs. The leader pressed hard and slide the blade across his skin. Blood followed obediently and dripped down.

Curly threw his head back in a scream.

"Mh." The leader expressed bliss. "Lovely."

The blade was lifted away and Curly took the opportunity to breath as brain panicked. Curly almost wished his life of violence had turned him into a masochist. He knew a few Greasers who were like that. They kinda freaked him out. Tim even told him once to stay away from people like that. Because where there is a masochist, a sadist is sure to follow. He knew this would gain him experience, respect, and rep.

The leader continued to cut the younger boy. Slowly and thoroughly. The abandoned house was filled with screaming. Soon, there were many bleeding cut covering Curly's blood striped torso. There were a few on his forearms and biceps where blood was sure to flow beautifully. There was even one on the side of his neck. It was lighter than the others, but because the skin was thinner there it would scar. The cuts were not deep enough to kill the boy, but they were hard enough to promise everlasting scars. Some may fade, some may stay to be faint, and others will show their pain. It's just what he wanted. To leave his mark. His existence.

Curly screamed as the Soc cut too close to his hipbone. Curly bang his head back as he shamefully whimpered and a thunderstorm of pain was raging through his torn body. It felt as those the fucking Soc sliced a little of the bone itself.

Fuck experience. Fuck respect. Fuck reptutation. Fuck everything!

Curly wanted this to stop. He wanted the pain to stop over taking his body and mind. He wanted to stop feeling rich blood dripping down his body.

He wanted someone to save him.

And someone did.

Suddenly the front door was kicked open. Startling the Scos, but Curly mind was fuzzy. Light from either the pain or blood lost. He didn't know and he didn't care. He just wanted to sleep.

Curly's vision became blurred as he heard heavy, angry, footsteps approach. He saw a dark figure stand at the entrance of the room and Socs running to fight. The dark figure lifted something, clenched in his hands and teeth flashing. The Socs stopped in their tracks.

Curly's vision blackened.

There was a thunderous bang.

Then nothing.