hi so I kinda forgot what I wrote previously and this is what came out of a very sleep-deprived writing session. decided to keep it because it was actually pretty good, oops? enjoy this filler chapter if nothing else.

If you've read my other story, What Makes a Man, then this is a nice...sequel, I guess?

Enjoy. As always, review! They are never expected but very much keep us both interested in these stories. :)

rollercoaster

Darry started the fight.

I wasn't in the right mindset to even think about throwing punches. I was wrapped in a fire of my own; a fire of memories that were now washing away with ash in their wake. A storm, a fire, that I almost let destroy me then and there.

See the key word there? Almost.

When Darry came towards me, calling "You're gonna be alright now" across the steaming grass, I knew. When Steve gathered me in his arms and shielded me from my older brother, hissing at Darry to go away, I knew.

I knew Darry wanted me to forget about 'Nam. I knew he wanted to get us back to a life that was far off in the distance.

So I guess you can imagine how fucking confused I was when Darry threw the first hit. Steve hadn't even fully turned me away from him and once that punch hit my jaw, there was no turning back. I practically launched Steve into another dimension with how hard I pushed him away, and then kept throwing my fist into Darry's face, his stomach, his lungs.

I just kept going. Darry only threw about ten or twelve and gave up, his body weakened both mentally and physically. When I finally landed on the ground with Darry underneath me, straddling his waist so he couldn't leave, I knew I had to show him how pissed off I was.

I landed an elbow right to his shoulder. Normally, hearing either of my brother's yelp in pain would be enough to send me storming to the nearest person and demanding a fight. Now, that yelp from Darry meant everything to me. It meant I had control.

A growl-like noise escaped my chest as I grabbed something behind me, and about hissed with exhilaration at the blinding light of a switchblade. Thank God for Two-Bit.

It was then that Pony's screams took over my anger. I turned, my eyes searching the smoke-scorched air for my little brother. He was being held back by a woman, who held him with the gentleness of a mother. She was sobbing, but she wasn't looking at me.

She was looking at Darry.

I opened my mouth to say something, to tell God himself that I was sorry, when something came down over my head and my world faded to nothing.

I see how Darry has looked at me ever since I had his head to the pavement, metal to his throat. Worry for the small little boy he still sees inside of me, and it about sends me to my knees every time he casts that look my way.

A look that says you're gonna be alright.

I'm not sure I'm worth saving.

"Soda?"

I allow my eyes to focus on the other person in the room. It's not Darry; he's in the kitchen. It's not Pony; he's off at some stupid trip.

It's not even Dr. Myra.

"Can I help you?"

The words clearly sting. She jumps in the doorway like someone's come up behind her, and she hides her blue eyes behind her hair. Her knees bend with the weight of misgivings she doesn't even know she has.

"Family dinner?"

"A family?" I roll my eyes and throw her a glare. "We are not family. We will never, ever be family. I would rather die than be seen with you."

A sob escapes her and she rushes out of the room. I sit back with my head held high and wait for her knight in shining armor to come rescue her, to come clean up the fucking damage I've caused her.

As if she didn't do a thing to me.

Sure enough, he storms into the doorway with the girl's hand in his. His green eyes burn down the whole room, leaving just me sitting in the middle, and his voice is cold as he says, "What the hell, Soda?"

I shrug, giving the girl another once over with my eyes. "She's not family to me." I look down at my sweatshirt sleeve as the girl lets out another cry and runs down the hall, slamming the door shut in her wake. I roll my eyes and stare imploringly at Darry. "You really gotta discipline that kid."

"She's six, Soda."

"She's gonna be such a fucking brat, always whining and crying when she doesn't get her way."

Now it's Darry's turn to roll his eyes. "Like you?"

The argument has no desire to go any further as the front door slams. Darry flies out of the room and I follow slowly, knowing who I'm going to find at that entrance, and not sure I want to face the storm she'll throw my way.