Author's Notes: The next chapter I'll get back to Ponyboy and Dally. But at the current moment I am in a very bad mood. Took a "The Outsiders" personality test, and it ends up the top one on my list is Dally when he's usually second. And guess what, Ponyboy is usually at the top and Dally's second. But I guess it's my bitchy mood that makes me be more like Dally at the moment. Sorry if I'm prattling (that is such a cool word!) right now. I guess I just have to say this or something.heh. Don't mind me. So this chapter is just a little something that is about Dally and the way he thinks. And the reasons the way he is. I'll make up some of the things but still I just want to let people understand Dally. I mean he's usually really hard to get. I barely get him, but now I perfectly understand him. Enough of my prattling on with the story, and on a side note, there is a lot more cursing in this chapter than usual. Dally needs to learn how to keep his mouth clean, or his mind at that matter.. So anyways (again) back to the story.

Chapter Five

I didn't know what was going on with me this time. Brooding on those things can drive anyone insane. I wasn't allowed back up for awhile because when I returned to my bed that night my chest pains grew twice as worst. Now if that wasn't the thing that made me the most fucking mad. It was the idea of Tim Shepard coming around and jeering at me. If I could I would've killed him right there. He had no right to taunt me. When I was well enough I would beat the shit out of him.

I remembered touching Kiera, it felt great to be able to hold her. That smile, it was amazing. But I knew she loved her boyfriend, Kevin. And I was just going to fuck things up again. It didn't make any sense that I couldn't have her. Why didn't I deserve the things everyone else did. Maybe it was because I was a hood. Whatever the hell was the problem in not having what everyone else could have, it was my own problem.

I had so much shit in my life that there wasn't even really all that funny. I mean I was born a hood. There wasn't choice in wither I was to loved or any of that shit. It was more of I was going to be born to do this. Destiny I guess if you wanted fancy words.

My father, I didn't even know if he was alive or dead. And personally I didn't give a damn. If I could have it my way he would've gone to hell so many years ago. It was a weak word to use 'hate' to describe the feelings for my old man. I mean why the hell did he even raise me? He took me in when who knows how many other children he had with sluts. And it had to be me; I guess I have all the luck. My mother had run off after I was born or whatever. And I don't even know where she is. I don't think I really wanted to know either. It would be too much pain to know. So my old man had raised me to be a hoodlum. He would get drunk and beat me; he would sober and beat me. Can you say, "Damned if you do, Damned if you don't"?

And you know what? I used to cry. I mean it. I used to cry my head off when he wasn't around because I didn't know what to do. I guess that's why I got so attached to Johnny. Because I was like him when I was younger. Well anyways, when I became ten I had become angry. Those tears slowly vanished and soon anger came from me. He had taught me how to hate, lie, play with people, and how to run.

The wrong side of New York City, it was rough man. Very rough, especially to a ten-year-old, some tuff hood showed me how to live on the streets and be tough. But my little run away scheme and running with older guys had backfired. We got caught for doing something wrong. Placed in prison. We didn't even get the chance that others got.

It was so wrong to place a ten-year-old in a prison. It's so very wrong. There were child molesters in there. There was rapist, murders and etc. And I remember that fear; I didn't know what was going on. And sometimes I would cry even. But eventually I grew tough. And with that I grew hard. I was like this hoodlum kid that there's so many now. But that wasn't even the beginning. The tougher I grew the more pain I withheld.

I learned how to fight with chains and blades. The older I grew, the stronger the thought haunted me "I'm becoming my old man". I had watched him, he never smiled that much usually just sneered (evil villain) and when he hit me he hit hard. He was what you would call a "mean" drunk. And that's probably where I got that from too. I still think of myself like him. And it scares me. I don't want to give anyone else that pain.

If only Johnny had made that smart decision not to turn himself in he wouldn't be dead right now! If only those two idiots had been smart like me, then we all wouldn't be this much pain!

"If only" damn that sounded so hollow to me, if only they would've done this, if only they would've done that, it didn't matter. If only my old man didn't drink so much and then maybe I wouldn't be so fucked up! Maybe if he even bothered to love me when I was a child I would know how to love! I don't enjoy being me! I want to be someone else, someone that's happier. But I couldn't be that person. I don't think I could ever really be that person. You know, it's just something that's so hard to do.

If only.that term would be the most fucked up thing anyone ever said. The more people said the more crude it became. And no matter what that "if only" will never come true. The more you wish the more shit that fucking term causes!

Sighing, I closed my eyes as I drifted to sleep with the ghost of Johnny to haunt my head. With those terms echoing in my head.