Chapter 20

Dally P.O.V.

I woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and a bruised rib. Sitting up slowly, I was trying to remember why the hell I felt this way to begin with. I looked down at my hand and saw it cut up, most likely from someone's face and then it all hit me.

My dumbass sister and her stupid ass friend got into some shit last night and thought they could handle it. Images of her bloody shirt and the frantic look in her eyes told me that she did something that would make me cringe. But her being her stubborn self, she didn't want my help. I didn't exactly fight her on it but honestly, I was scared to know what they had done.

Tim had found me later that night and told me he gave them some cash and my heater to keep them out of trouble. He didn't know what they did either, but we had a pretty damn good guess at what it was.

Soda asked about Sage a little into the night and Steve told him that she needed to lay low for a while. Having heard Steve know more than I did about my sister rubbed me the wrong way. That's when I picked a fight with someone from Tim's outfit and drank myself to sleep.

I sighed and ran my hands through my hair. What the hell did my kid sister get into and why can't I keep my cool around her for more than five minutes? I got out of bed and decided to head to the Curtis house for reason's I didn't know. Maybe I could get more information out of Steve and figure out where the kid went.

The walk there had me thinking about how much Sage had changed since the last time I saw her. Back in New York, she was full of life and always had me on my toes. I swear she reminded me of Two-bit more and more as she got older. Leaving her was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. Coming back to Tulsa knowing I had nothing to my name was the main reason why I wanted her to stay behind. I couldn't support her or give her the life she deserved. Our deadbeat father couldn't do much either, but she had friends and a life full of possibilities in the big city and taking that away from her didn't seem right. I knew she would hate me, but I really thought it was the best thing for her.

Looking back on how she has been here, she is more like me now than Two-bit. The hardened look in her eyes, her need to push people away, and that temper. Man, that temper has Winston written all over it. New York is the reason why I am the way I am and clearly it rubbed off on Sage as well.

But I what exactly happened to make her live up to our reputation? I know dad beat her like he did me, but that wouldn't make her shut out the people she cared about the most. I thought for sure her and Soda would get together with how close they were growing up, but she even pushed him away. When I get her back, I'm going to find out the real reason why she came here. Because I know it sure isn't because of our dad.

I walked into the Curtis house and sat on the couch next to Johnny. He seemed jumpier than normal and I asked him what was up. "Did you hear the soc's have declared a war on greasers?" I shook my head confused.

Darry cut in, "Two soc kids were stabbed last night on greaser territory. They have no idea who did it, but it doesn't look good."

Stabbed? My blood ran cold as it all clicked. Sage and Angela killed those boys and we let them figure it out themselves. Shit. I saw Steve walk in, and I stormed over and drug him outside by his collar. He didn't seem too surprised at my actions but everyone else inside did. Once the door slammed shut, I let him go.

"What did Sage tell you last night?" He looked at me confused, "Said she needed to lay low for a while and already talked to you about it. Begged me not to tell anyone. Why?"

I shook my head, "Two soc's were stabbed last night with no one to blame." Steve's eyes went wide. "Holy shit. I didn't know." I started pacing as I tried to figure out what to do.

Soda had come out to ask where Sage was, and I threw my hands up in the air out of frustration. "I have no fucking idea! Her and Angela said they had all this shit figured out and I let them walk away. Fuck!"

Soda looked at Steve and asked, "Where do you think they went?" Steve shrugged his shoulders and I pointed a finger at them both. "None of this gets out. You hear me?" They nodded their heads, Soda a little confused but as I walked away Steve told him to go read the paper.

With two rich kids murdered on our side of town, I knew it was only a matter of time before Tim and I were hauled in. We needed to get our stories straight if they asked about our sisters and then go find them. I thought New York would be the only place I could get mixed up in a murder rap.

Sage P.O.V.

We had been on the bus for hours now and my mind had started to wonder. I was in over my head thinking we could figure this out on our own. Dally and Tim are the only two people that would know what to do and I pushed them away like I normally did. For once I didn't want to be like my cold-hearted brother, but here we are again proving that I had zero will power to be my own person.

Angela had fallen asleep a couple hours into the drive and looked like she was dead to the world. I cringed at the thought of death and shook my head. I needed to get a grip, or I was going to blow this for the both of us.

Soda's face kept popping into my mind and my heart ached at what I had just thrown away. He had been there for me even when I tried to push him away, and I took advantage of that. I had a small glimmer of hope that I might have a shot at love, but I was crazy to ever believe a Winston could be capable of that.

From there my mind wondered to my last year in New York and the hell that brought me. I fell for a guy who was worse than my brother. Hell, he made my brother look like a damn angel and I think that's why I was attracted to him. He is the reason I am the way I am. Why I can't trust myself to fully let someone in.

Mark started off treating me right. He made me feel things I never thought I would feel again after my brother left me. I was truly happy and that was all due to this stupid mistake of a guy. Slowly things started to change. I would talk back and get slapped in the face. If I rolled my eyes, which I do fairly frequently, I would end up with a black eye. He told me if my eye was swollen shut, I wouldn't be able to roll it anymore. I have to give it to him because it was some sound logic. A little on the fucked up side, but I saw where he was coming from.

Getting hit didn't bother me like it probably should have. My old man beat me all the time and a few bruises weren't going to stop me from living my life. As horrible as it is to say, the bruises made me look tough and that was one thing that worked in my favor on the streets of New York.

Mark didn't scare me until he started to get jealous. I wasn't allowed to talk to other guys, look at them, or even mention a name of the opposite sex without him flipping out. At first, I didn't think he would do anything, but glory was I wrong.

The first time I had a heater pulled on me was when I told Mark about this guy who helped get these other guys off me that had jumped me on my way home. I honestly thought he would be happy that someone stuck up for me, but he pulled the gun out so fast I didn't have time to react. Having the guy, you thought you loved press the barrel of a gun to your head changes you.

From there I was too scared to do anything. I started to go out less, lost all of my friends in fears that he would shoot me for saying the wrong thing. I was trapped in his iron grip and saw no way out for the longest time. It felt like I was living in a never-ending dream and didn't wake up until the night he did something I didn't think I would ever recover from.

I made the rare decision to order some pizza because I didn't want to go out and my dad had zero food in the house. Mark had been out running the streets with some friends of his and I didn't think I would see him until the morning. My dad was passed out drunk on the couch and I was walking around in an oversized shirt and my underwear.

The doorbell rang and a kid younger than me had my pizza in his hands. The interaction was harmless, and I gave him the money, plus tip, and took the pizza inside. I hadn't walked two steps before I heard the all too familiar sound of a gunshot. Many different things were running through my head and I did something I would later regret to this day. I opened the door and looked to see what had happened.

On the bottom step of our house laid the young pizza boy with blood running from his head. The ground beneath him began to stain a dark crimson color that was slowly growing larger. Mark stood a few feet away and pointed at me. "I told you what would happen if you talked to another guy. This is your fault. You left me no choice."

Standing out in the cold autumn night was me in my oversized shirt and a kid who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. All I could think about was the family who lost their son because I was with a psychotic guy who had no problems killing innocent people.

Mark had walked off and left me with the lifeless kid. I called 9-1-1 and told them that Mark Peters had shot the pizza delivery boy then grabbed a bag stuff with a few things and ran. My dad had an old beat up car that I used to drag race in sometimes that I decided would now be mine. I drove and didn't stop until I was out of the state of New York and far enough away that Mark couldn't hurt me or others anymore.

Mark had killed someone without a second thought. How was what I did to that soc any different? I didn't have a lot of regret because of what he had done to me at that party and I was trying to convince myself that he deserved it. The more I thought about it the more I realized that Mark probably thought the same thing about the innocent pizza boy.

Who in the hell have I become?