Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders. of Verona owns "Raining."


Don't want to feel this

Don't want to feel this right now

Feel like I could give up trying

January 31 – February 2, 1966

Ella had spent two days in the hospital after her mother found her a block down from the store Friday night. She refused to tell anyone what had happened to her, merely repeating that somebody had jumped her, though it had been too dark to see who it was. She told the doctors that she was attacked while she was on her way home from work, that somebody, a male teen, had tackled her, and she didn't recall anything else.

She was released from the hospital early Monday morning, her mother driving her back to their house where she practically locked herself up in her room. She knew that reporting Craig wouldn't do any good, especially with George Clayton being his friend. Nobody would really believe her, either, and she didn't want to deal with any of that nonsense, so she decided to keep her mouth shut.

The girl could barely remember the incident; all she kept seeing was Craig's fist aimed at her face before she was met with darkness, having woken up in a hospital room with her mother's face staring down at her with an almost relieved expression. She looked worse than she honestly was, though, but that didn't stop every inch of her from hurting. Her nose had been broken, her lips were split, and her face was all bruised up, cheeks swollen from where the impact of Craig's punches met her flesh.

Curling up into a ball, Ella let herself cry. She blamed herself mostly for ever opening her mouth to Craig about the information she had obtained from Cherry Valance and Ponyboy Curtis. Maybe if she just hadn't said anything at all, George wouldn't have been jumped and nothing would have happened with her and Craig. Still, the reminder of Ponyboy being harassed by George bothered her, and in the end, she didn't regret confronting Craig.

Still, she knew it was best to keep her mouth shut. If she didn't say anything, maybe Craig and George would stay away from her. Besides, the thought of nothing actually happening to Craig if she did turn him in lingered in her mind. Even if both Craig and George were locked up, both the Bryant's and the Clayton's would simply bail their sons out, and nothing would happen. They were prominent people in the area, and there was no way Ella could go after them—it was no use.

There was nothing she could do.


Dallas figured that he would have a free afternoon, well, free from tutoring anyway. He'd learned that Ella hadn't shown up for school, which he was just fine with, considering the fact that he never particularly enjoyed their study sessions three days a week after school. Either way, he decided that he would find Shepard and see what the hell he was up to.

He glanced at the youngest member of their group, who was lounging on the hood of Steve's car beside him, contently munching on a candy bar as he read some book. Ponyboy had seemed very anxious about something for the last few days, excited rather, and he wondered what was going on. He hadn't exactly spent his time at the Curtis's, except for when he decided to sneak over and wash his laundry.

"What's got you grinning like a fool?" the blond asked, raising an eyebrow at the kid.

Ponyboy looked at him from over his book. "Nothing, why?"

"Bullshit," Dally disagreed, rubbing the stubble around his chin. "You look as though someone handed ya a million bucks."

"Now you sound like Two-Bit."

The older teen shook his head, lightly whacking the younger boy on the head. He was starting to get too mouthy for his own good. Dallas actually thought it was quite amusing, especially when the kid got enough nerve to come back at him and Steve. The darker haired greaser had let up a bit on nagging the kid in the past few months, which had eased a lot of the tension between them. Still, Steve and Pony didn't exactly dig each other, and Dallas figured they never really would.

On the other hand, Ponyboy had been formulating his own plans regarding his book. He was going to ask Mr. Franklin if he would actually need everyone's hand-written consent to use their names in the official book, and if not, he was going to say that it was alright with them. He knew that it was wrong to lie like that, especially to Dale Franklin, who had been more than generous and kind to him.

Still, he would get the first official copy of his book once it was finished, and then he would show it to everyone who was mentioned and involved in it and see if they cared that their names were used. He just hoped that his plan would work out.

As he looked back at Dallas, he wondered how he would react once he read the ending, and a sudden feeling of despair crept up his spine.


Yawning, Steve grabbed his books from his locker Tuesday morning wishing that he and Evie hadn't stayed out so late the night before. It's not that he didn't enjoy being out with his girlfriend, but there were times when she just wanted to do too many things in one night. Honestly, her spontaneous personality was one of the things that Steve loved about her, because she was always upbeat and ready to do almost anything, but still, with school and work, he was a bit bummed out.

What he didn't expect was to see her approaching him so upset looking that morning. Usually, Evie was always cheerful, a bright smile on her face, but when he saw her serious countenance, he knew that something was up.

"What's wrong, baby?" he inquired, closing his locker door and turning to face her.

Evie bit her lip. "I know she ain't exactly a friend of mine or nothin', but have you heard about Ella?"

"Ella who?"

"Mitchell," she answered. "You know, Dally's tutor, the girl I gave a cigarette to a week or so ago in the bathroom?"

Steve nodded, unsure of where she was headed with this. "What happened?"

"She was jumped last Friday night," Evie revealed. "Mamma said Aunt Margaret was her evening nurse the nights she stayed at the hospital, and she asked me if I knew her this morning when she got in." She bit her lip. "She don't think it's safe for girls to be walkin' the streets at night, not with what happened to Ella."

The dark-haired teen felt himself pale as he thought about the situation. Evie's aunt was a real busy woman, often pulling double shifts and working many hours at the hospital. She and Evie's mother had a rather strained relationship because of it, but despite that, they maintained a mutual respect for one another.

"You serious?"

"Of course I am, Steve!" she all but hissed. "Aunt Margaret said she was real bad when she came in through the ER. Apparently, her own mother found her down the block from Pickett, you know, past the old market?"

He nodded. "Damn."

Steve didn't know what to say. Who the hell would want to attack a girl like Ella Mitchell? As far as he knew, she was a nobody, her name barely known in their grade. He wondered, for a second, if Dally had heard about it or not, and decided that he would bring it up during lunch. Still, as he looked back at Evie, a sickening sensation flooded his stomach as he realized whatever happened to Ella could have happened to her.


George knew that Craig had attacked Ella. By Tuesday afternoon, half of the school had been talking about Ella Mitchell being jumped, and at first, George had thought it was some kind of joke. However, when it occurred to him that the girl hadn't been to school in two days, much like himself just the week before, he knew it wasn't a lie.

The buzzing gossip had shed the light from his attack last week once news of Ella began spreading around the school like wildfire. All of the girls were in a panic, swearing that some maniac was on the loose, blah, blah, blah. It was all noise to his ears in the end, and the only thing that was worrying him was the fact that they—they meaning the gang who had jumped him—would think he was the one who had attacked Ella.

When he approached Craig that afternoon before lunch, he'd practically punched him, shoving him into the lockers by the gym doors.

"What the hell, George?" Craig growled, pushing the other teen off of him.

"You jumped her, didn't you?" he accused, lowering his voice to a hiss. "What the hell were you thinking, Craig? Are you—"

Craig cut him off. "I don't know. I was drunk." He brought a hand up to his face. He had been beating himself up since he'd left his ex-girlfriend beaten in the streets unconscious. "I didn't— Hell, I didn't mean to hurt her, George."

George was livid. "It's my fucking rep, you moron! If you get caught because she tells the truth, what the hell do you think will happen to you? To me? Did you think about that, Craig?" He retreated, running a hand through his hair. "What were you thinking? Did you ever consider the fact that the guys who got me would come looking for me again because of this?"

Craig stared at him wide-eyed. "I told you I didn't— I was drunk!"

"Yeah? Well I've got news you for you, Craig," he replied, his voice firm. "If those guys come after me again, I'm bringing you down with me. You can count on that."

The brown-haired boy didn't say anything as the other teen left him standing there alone.


Ponyboy met up with Dallas during their lunch period, an anxious expression on his face. He wanted to know if the older teen had heard about his tutor, but the blond seemed quite oblivious to any of the ongoing gossip that was swarming Will Rogers High School that day. Pony himself had heard the news through Richie Maulfred earlier that day, and after that, the rumors seemed to be everywhere.

"What's the matter with you, kid?" Dallas asked, jamming his fists in his pockets after tossing his books to the younger teen. "Put those in your locker, will ya?"

Ponyboy rolled his eyes, wondering why Dallas was too lazy to walk to his own locker to switch out his books. Why did he have to use his, Steve's, and whoever else he decided to share with? Glory, they were assigned personal lockers for a reason, not that Ponyboy truly minded. It was just that Dally had a way of thinking he could just use whoever's locker whenever it suited him, and Ponyboy was getting mighty annoyed with the hood.

Speaking of which . . .

"You hear about Ella?"

Dallas looked uninterested. "What about her?"

"She was jumped last Friday by Pickett," he answered as they walked out of the school. "Her mom was the one to find her and bring her to the hospital. She was in pretty bad shape."

The hood came to a stop, a scowl becoming present on his face. "Do they know who did it?"

"I don't know."

Dallas stared ahead, ashy brows pulling together as his mind raced with various thoughts. There was only one person who would come to the forefront, but he wasn't sure why George Clayton would go after Ella Mitchell of all people, unless he found out that she—

His head snapped in the direction of the younger greaser beside him. "Clayton ain't been botherin' you, has he?" His blue eyes hardened. "You better not fucking lie to me, or so help me—"

"No, he hasn't," came the rapid answer. "Gee, Dally, what are you thinking?"

The blond pulled his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. "I'm thinkin' that Clayton found out that Ella was the one who opened her fucking mouth about you."

The red-headed teen raised an eyebrow, considering his friend's words. He knew then that Dallas and Ella had been sharing information about George and him. The thought got under his skin a little as he realized that Dallas and Ella must have come up with the brilliant idea to interrogate him, which was why Ella had been so desperate in seeking answers from him about not only Craig, but George, too.

"You think George attacked her?"

"I don't know."

Ponyboy wracked his brain for anything that would come to mind and piece the puzzle together, and then, as if someone flicked on a switch, he knew that Dallas was wrong in his assumptions. Something told him that it wasn't George who had jumped Ella—it couldn't have been, could it? Besides, how would George find out that Ella—

"I'm real glad that we had this talk, Ponyboy. Don't worry about George or anything. I'll deal with Craig tonight."

The memory of his conversation with the older girl suddenly jarred him out of his thoughts, his stomach seeming to knot up. The pieces began coming together one by one, and suddenly, as his gaze shifted up toward Dallas, he knew what had happened, or at least, had an idea. If Ella had went after Craig, Craig must have went back to George, which was why Craig and Ella were no longer together.

Still, George had been jumped over a week ago, and Ponyboy had a feeling that it had something to do with him, and there was only one person he could think of that had the answer to that.

Dallas Winston.

He couldn't tell the hood about Craig Bryant's involvement with George; he'd promised Ella that he wouldn't mention the older boy's name, and he didn't mean to go back on his word. The only thing he could do was hope that Ella was alright, but something told him that part of this mess was his fault, and he suddenly felt guilty for not coming out with the truth sooner.


Dallas was a force of nature that nobody wanted to mess with, especially when he was hacked off about something. By Wednesday afternoon, he had heard multiple stories about what had happened to Ella fucking Mitchell, and he was getting mighty annoyed with the ongoing gossip. The girls were the worst end of it, mostly because they were conjuring up false stories about some creep roaming the streets at night, or some bullshit or another.

The blond had heard the correct story from Steve the day before during lunch, who had been informed by his girl, Evie. Her aunt had been Ella's nurse or something, so whatever story Evie gave to them had been told to her from her own mother, who would surely know best.

Still, Dallas had plans of his own, and he was going through with them that night. He imagined the look on Ella's face when he showed up at her house later that afternoon, but he wasn't stopping by for any sort of pleasantries—no, he was going to find out what really happened to her, even if he had to dig the story from her and pull it up like a fucking landmine.

"Hey, Dal," Two-Bit called, jogging to catch up to the younger teen. "Where ya headed?"

The blond shrugged. "I ain't sittin' with y'all today."

"How come?" the rusty-haired greaser inquired, cocking an eyebrow. "You got a pretty dame waiting for ya or something?"

"Yeah, sure, Mathews," he replied, grounding his teeth. "Whatever you say."

Two-Bit shot his buddy a look, the tone of his voice clearly hinting that something wasn't right. Still, the older teen knew better than to question Dally Winston, especially when he knew that the hood was in a dangerous mood—it was best not to get cocky with him. Two-Bit, like the rest of the gang, knew from painful experiences how nasty Dallas could turn. He was dangerous like that.

He nodded instead. "Well, I'll tell Steve and Ponyboy that you've got other plans."

"You do that."

Once Two-Bit was gone from sight, Dallas turned on his heel and headed back into the school. Yeah, he had other plans to attend to, and the first one on his list started with tracking down a certain red-headed Soc by the name of Cherry Valance.

He remembered her message from all those months ago, one which had come through Ella Mitchell, and if she knew about something with Ponyboy, and Steve and Two-Bit had sent a threatening message to Clayton through her, Dallas wanted to know exactly what she'd said to the guy, and Ella as well—she had to know something.

He was going to get to the bottom of this mess.


Cherry quickly ran a brush through her hair, before squirting on a bit of perfume. She despised gym sometimes, but she enjoyed the workout. It was ironic in a sense, how she didn't mind running the track or cheerleading, but she hated the aftermath of it all, which involved showering with a bunch of other girls, and then the steamed up locker rooms that were clouded with powder and smelled like too many different brands of perfumes—it was congesting.

Stepping out into the hall, the girl breathed in the fresher air as she joined the other students, glad that the class was over with. Usually, she was one of the first ones out of the gym, but on that particular day, Mrs. Reynolds, the girls' gym coach, had asked her to stay behind to go over the Spring Cheerleading charts and routines. Cherry liked Mrs. Reynolds, really she did, but sometimes, the older woman would get so flustered and forget what they'd gone over the day before.

Cherry sighed, coming to a stop at her locker and spinning her combination. What she didn't expect was the sight of familiar blond hair to appear in the little mirror that hung on the inside of her locker door. She nearly jumped, a startled expression becoming evident on her porcelain face, as she turned around to face her intruder.

"What do you want, Dallas?" she asked, eyes skimming the halls anxiously. It's not that she truly hated Dallas Winston—she still admired him somewhat—but she didn't want anyone getting the wrong idea, either; she wouldn't risk her reputation.

The hood looked her up and down. "I gotta talk to ya." He noticed her averting gaze. "Oh, don't worry about your little Social friends seein' us together, baby. I was real careful." He winked, a sarcastic look plastering his face.

Cherry rolled her eyes. "Please don't do this, Dallas. What do you want to talk about?"

"Well, for one"—He moved to lean on the locker beside her—"Ponyboy Curtis."

The girl's face contorted to confusion. "Ponyboy?"

"That's what I said, ain't it?"

Cherry couldn't understand why Dallas Winston, of all people, would come looking for her in the middle of the school day just to talk about Ponyboy Curtis, unless something was wrong, which had been her first initial thought. However, the look on Dallas's face told her that he wasn't particularly worried about anything, so Ponyboy couldn't have been in any sort of trouble. So what could it be?

"Alright," she said after a moment of silence. "I'm listening." She crossed her arms, daring another look around them. "Just make it quick. I have—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he interrupted, shoving his fists in his pockets, not in the mood to deal with her uptight, preppy behavior. "You knew George Clayton was bothering Ponyboy back in, what the hell was it? November or some shit." He gave her a cool look. "Why did you send Ella Mitchell to give me the message instead of telling me directly?"

The girl bit her lip. "I knew she was your tutor."

"That's your answer?" he asked, sounding surprised. "Didn't think you were the type to hide. You didn't seem to have a problem driving your little Stingray over to my side of town back in September and confronting a bunch of hoods by your lonesome."

"Oh, please," she bit out, rolling her eyes. "That was something different." She was growing annoyed with him. "Could you just get to the point of this?"

"What do you know about George Clayton, and what would he have to do with Ella Mitchell?"

Her eyes widened for a second, only a second, and she furrowed her brows. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Like hell you don't," he hissed, clenching his jaw. "You knew the guy was fucking around with Ponyboy, and you sent Ella fucking Mitchell to tell me about keeping an eye on him, so I wanna know exactly what else you know and I want you to tell me now."

He stepped closer to her, nearly pressing her against her own locker. The fear in her green eyes was ever present, and he knew that he had her; she did know more, but whatever it was, he didn't get the chance to find out, because Randy Adderson rounded the corner a second later, and Cherry took off, leaving him standing in an empty hall.

Well, so much for that.


Ella lounged around her house later that afternoon, eyes focused on the tube, which was airing an episode of I Love Lucy. She had a fondness for the show, but she couldn't really bring herself to enjoy it right then. Her mind was elsewhere, head swarming with the thoughts of returning to school. She knew she would have to go back eventually, but she didn't want to see or face Craig.

Running a hand through her hair, Ella reached for her mug of tea, her face scrunching up a bit as the liquid entered her mouth, having turned cold from sitting out too long. With a sigh, she made her way to the kitchen, emptying the cup in the sink and placing it on the counter. She caught her reflection in the window, jaw clenching as she studied her appearance. She didn't look as bad as she had, but the bruises and marks were still visible, causing her expression to fall.

A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts, and she wondered who could possibly be there. She figured that it might be Jan stopping in to see how she was doing, as the older woman had done so twice already, but her heart seemed to sink when she saw a tall figure with stark blond hair standing out on the porch, his back facing the living room window as he faced the street.

For a moment, Ella debated on pretending like she wasn't there, but she knew Dallas wasn't stupid; he knew she was home, and a sudden thought caused her to feel even worse—everybody must have heard about her attack last Friday night. Still, she knew that Dallas Winston wasn't one for sentiments, so why would he stop by? Surely it couldn't be check on her, could it? No way.

With a sigh, she opened the door, cracking the screen as she poked her head out. "Dallas. What are you doing here?"

Despite the question, her voice hadn't come out with disdain. Instead, the girl sounded completely worn out, her expression reflecting just how lethargic she felt. Dallas turned at the sound of the door opening, his eyes roaming over the brown-haired girl before him. He'd seen worse than her condition, but he was certain that he'd never seen her look that bad before, not even on one of her crabby days. It wasn't even the marks that littered her skin, or the discoloration from said marks and bruises, that made her look so horrible, it was the look in her eyes that had stunned the hood.

Dallas knew that Ella could be fiery, but her countenance right then told him she was anything but, and a sudden sensation of pure irritation flooded his veins.

"Aren't you gonna invite me in?" he asked, giving her a smirk, knowing that the question would aggravate her.

Ella, however, didn't even look slightly irritated. It took her a moment to react, but when she did, she merely pushed the screen open further and beckoned him in. Truthfully, she really didn't want to do so, but she didn't have the energy to argue with him, so, with hope that he would leave sooner, she simply let him inside the house.

Dallas didn't bother to really look around. He didn't have plans to stay long enough to get comfortable, and besides, he didn't consider Ella a friend of his. No, this was just a short visit, one where he hoped to find out what had happened to her, or rather, get the truth from her about George Clayton so he could take care of the issue with Ponyboy. If the kid hadn't been involved in any way, he wouldn't have bothered to show up at Ella's house in the first place; she wasn't his problem.

Ella followed Dallas in, leaning on the wall beside the kitchen entry. "You didn't answer my question."

He shrugged. "Heard the rumors about you."

"That's all?"

"You gonna tell me what happened?"

The girl felt her breath hitch in her throat. Dallas actually expected her to tell him what happened to her Friday night? She couldn't wrap her head around that, mostly because she knew that he didn't like her, but then she remembered Ponyboy, and she automatically assumed that Dallas had only shown up because of George Clayton. Well, that had to be the issue, she told herself, because Ponyboy was the one Dallas was looking out for. Even Cherry's message a few months ago was enough confirmation that Ponyboy was the victim in this situation.

Ella understood that fully, but something in her lower gut twisted at the thought, and not because of Ponyboy Curtis or the current situation, either.

"It wasn't George Clayton," she stated, pursing her lips.

Dallas didn't look convinced. "Oh, no?" He crossed his arms, eyeing her intently. "You see, sweets, I have a hard time believing that—"

"Well, that's your problem," she bit out, cutting him off. There was an edge in her voice. "But I'm telling you that it wasn't him, and if that's all you're here for, you're wasting your time." She huffed, then, eyes glaring. "Besides, I don't even remember anything from that night. It was dark, the guy came out of nowhere, and that's it. I only remember waking up in the hospital."

The blond was growing agitated. "So you expect me to believe that some random fucking person decided to jump you for no reason at all, somebody who is hardly known and even less important?" He was in her face by then. "Well, I've got news for you, sweets. I think you're a fucking liar."

Ella was fighting to hold her tears back, Dallas's words stinging and bitter. "Get out."

The blond wrinkled his nose at her, teeth grinding together. "My pleasure."

Before she could utter another word, he was already out of the house, slamming the door behind himself and trudging down the steps. His mind was racing with various thoughts, the most prominent one being Ella lying right to his face. Glory, but he could slug her real good, he thought angrily. She was protecting George Clayton, much like Ponyboy had done, and he couldn't fathom any of it.

Perhaps it was time for him to pay a visit to Clayton—he had let this go on for far too long, and he was done concerning himself with a prison sentence.

Fuck it all.

Ella had listened to the tires of the T-Bird squealing down the road, and with tears streaming down her face, she let herself slide to the floor, pulling her knees up against her chest, wishing more than anything that none of this had ever happened.

Then it falls on down

Anchors to my bones

Pins me to the ground

I feel like dying


Thank you so much for the feedback on this story! Y'all keep me going! :3