Author's Notes: I'll try to keep my notes short this time. I'm still in a
bitchy mood and now it's even worst. I have my loud, cursing music to the
top. And I'm still in a Dally mood. My dog ran off yesterday and no luck in
find her so both mom and I are both on the edge. So here goes the next
chapter, please don't mind the swearing of the very angry Dally right now.
(That was shorter than last time!) And on the note, I know I promised a
Dally and Ponyboy chapter. But I have something better planned. Just think
of "For You" by Staind.
Chapter Six
Trapped in my own world, I had nothing but an empty dream to hold onto, nothing but false hopes. I was closer to the edge. I knew it with every breath I took. The pain grew steadily worst. And sometimes I wouldn't be able to breath very well. I was too weak to sit up and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about.
All seemed opaque and there was nothing keeping me loosing it. There was so much that I wanted to tell. But there wasn't anyone to listen to me at all. There were too many smiling faces. Too many people telling me I would be all right. How could I fucking me all right! I had nothing!
Every minute I laid in the bed the more it seemed clearer to me. Every moment I wasted was one step closer to becoming what my father was. I wasn't going to be like him! Never!
Some parts of the old me was returning. I would love to say that it was the tenderness that I felt for Johnny. But no, of course it wasn't, but you know if it did that'd be just peachy. But there was something that was returning to me, hatred. I hated these damn people who called me "friend". Why didn't they just let me die instead of living?
I hated those Socs! Why the hell did they even bother to say sorry. They weren't sorry after all. They were glad they got rid of one more greaser. It was they're own fucking fault that this had happened!
Hearing the door open, I didn't look; it was probably some doctor coming to stab me with that needle again. Why couldn't they just leave me alone for a few minutes?
The person cleared his voice, trying to get a hold of my attention. Wait.this voice clearing was familiar. Leaning on one foot the man watched me with a cool expression.
Turning around, I leered my eyes at the man. Suddenly that entire hatred spur into one moment that seemed to last forever. This man was my old man. Why the fuck was he here?
"So this is what you've became," He said finally staring at me sharing the same coldness that I remember. His resemblance was so close that I almost found myself looking at an older version of me. But no it was the son of a bitch that was my old man.
"You haven't been that lucky either," I growled distastefully as I stared at his shabby clothing. He always looked like a bum on the side of the road. We had lived in a small house with nothing much and he looked like a train just hit him.
"Is that any way to treat you're father," my old man said a sneer coming to his chapped lips as he watched every movement I made. He did this when I was younger just before he would beat the shit out of me.
"You're not my father," I growled at him louder this time. Trembling harder I glared at him with a fierce hatred. Once again that metallic thought of how I was becoming my old man echoed.
"Yes I am. I only came to see how you were doing. It's been a while since we last seen each other." My old man said in a low voice. He was getting pissed off at me again.
"You bastard, you never fucking cared about me before! Why the hell are you here now? Going to give me some more of you're shit? Of how I ruined you're life. Or are you going to try to fight me again?"
"Dallas!" He said shortly his anger coming too. "Is it so wrong if I want to see my son when he was almost killed! I have a right to know if my son is dead or alive."
"You never used that right before. So why are you here now? Come to beg for forgiveness?" I asked a cruel smile curling on my lips as I watched him feeling the anger growing worst. This is what we did. We bashed each other. Never once did we talk about some fancy baseball player. As much as I would love to have that simplistic life, I wouldn't keep it. This was the old man that screwed up my life. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to beat the shit out of him and teach him what it was like to be beat up, to be afraid. I wanted to show him how much I hated him. But as I thought this I knew I was becoming like him with every tainted thought.
"I wouldn't ever come to beg forgiveness," He spat. "You son of a bitch. You do know that you're a son of a bitch, don't you? You're mother was nothing more than a whore. She was easy. But I never expected to raise you. Then she runs off leaving me with you."
"Then why didn't you place me on a door step with someone better than you?" I asked him sitting up feeling no pain at the moment. Though the back of my mind was screaming at me.
"Because.because I wanted." My old man stopped looking away from me. "Because I wanted to be a better father than my old man was. He beat me up like I beat you up when you were younger. I thought I could change it."
"I don't buy it, old man. Get the fuck out of my room and never come around again," I growled. Pointing towards the door. His words struck me as I repeated them in my head. But I wanted him gone.
"I won't give up, Dally," My old man muttered as he looked towards the door. Stopping he looked back at me for a moment lost in his thoughts. "Wow, kid. You look like me when I was young.I hope you don't make the same mistakes."
Trembling more now, as he left I lay back down with a little "thud" as I closed my eyes. My breath was uneven as the last bit of hatred pulsated through me. Staring at the ceiling I thought curses at him. I tried to push his words out of my mind. And I did. For now.
Chapter Six
Trapped in my own world, I had nothing but an empty dream to hold onto, nothing but false hopes. I was closer to the edge. I knew it with every breath I took. The pain grew steadily worst. And sometimes I wouldn't be able to breath very well. I was too weak to sit up and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about.
All seemed opaque and there was nothing keeping me loosing it. There was so much that I wanted to tell. But there wasn't anyone to listen to me at all. There were too many smiling faces. Too many people telling me I would be all right. How could I fucking me all right! I had nothing!
Every minute I laid in the bed the more it seemed clearer to me. Every moment I wasted was one step closer to becoming what my father was. I wasn't going to be like him! Never!
Some parts of the old me was returning. I would love to say that it was the tenderness that I felt for Johnny. But no, of course it wasn't, but you know if it did that'd be just peachy. But there was something that was returning to me, hatred. I hated these damn people who called me "friend". Why didn't they just let me die instead of living?
I hated those Socs! Why the hell did they even bother to say sorry. They weren't sorry after all. They were glad they got rid of one more greaser. It was they're own fucking fault that this had happened!
Hearing the door open, I didn't look; it was probably some doctor coming to stab me with that needle again. Why couldn't they just leave me alone for a few minutes?
The person cleared his voice, trying to get a hold of my attention. Wait.this voice clearing was familiar. Leaning on one foot the man watched me with a cool expression.
Turning around, I leered my eyes at the man. Suddenly that entire hatred spur into one moment that seemed to last forever. This man was my old man. Why the fuck was he here?
"So this is what you've became," He said finally staring at me sharing the same coldness that I remember. His resemblance was so close that I almost found myself looking at an older version of me. But no it was the son of a bitch that was my old man.
"You haven't been that lucky either," I growled distastefully as I stared at his shabby clothing. He always looked like a bum on the side of the road. We had lived in a small house with nothing much and he looked like a train just hit him.
"Is that any way to treat you're father," my old man said a sneer coming to his chapped lips as he watched every movement I made. He did this when I was younger just before he would beat the shit out of me.
"You're not my father," I growled at him louder this time. Trembling harder I glared at him with a fierce hatred. Once again that metallic thought of how I was becoming my old man echoed.
"Yes I am. I only came to see how you were doing. It's been a while since we last seen each other." My old man said in a low voice. He was getting pissed off at me again.
"You bastard, you never fucking cared about me before! Why the hell are you here now? Going to give me some more of you're shit? Of how I ruined you're life. Or are you going to try to fight me again?"
"Dallas!" He said shortly his anger coming too. "Is it so wrong if I want to see my son when he was almost killed! I have a right to know if my son is dead or alive."
"You never used that right before. So why are you here now? Come to beg for forgiveness?" I asked a cruel smile curling on my lips as I watched him feeling the anger growing worst. This is what we did. We bashed each other. Never once did we talk about some fancy baseball player. As much as I would love to have that simplistic life, I wouldn't keep it. This was the old man that screwed up my life. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to beat the shit out of him and teach him what it was like to be beat up, to be afraid. I wanted to show him how much I hated him. But as I thought this I knew I was becoming like him with every tainted thought.
"I wouldn't ever come to beg forgiveness," He spat. "You son of a bitch. You do know that you're a son of a bitch, don't you? You're mother was nothing more than a whore. She was easy. But I never expected to raise you. Then she runs off leaving me with you."
"Then why didn't you place me on a door step with someone better than you?" I asked him sitting up feeling no pain at the moment. Though the back of my mind was screaming at me.
"Because.because I wanted." My old man stopped looking away from me. "Because I wanted to be a better father than my old man was. He beat me up like I beat you up when you were younger. I thought I could change it."
"I don't buy it, old man. Get the fuck out of my room and never come around again," I growled. Pointing towards the door. His words struck me as I repeated them in my head. But I wanted him gone.
"I won't give up, Dally," My old man muttered as he looked towards the door. Stopping he looked back at me for a moment lost in his thoughts. "Wow, kid. You look like me when I was young.I hope you don't make the same mistakes."
Trembling more now, as he left I lay back down with a little "thud" as I closed my eyes. My breath was uneven as the last bit of hatred pulsated through me. Staring at the ceiling I thought curses at him. I tried to push his words out of my mind. And I did. For now.
