(Ponyboy's P.O.V-3 days later)

"I'm bored." Soda complained as we watched Spongebob.

"Then do something." I retorted, "go call Steve or Sandy or someone."

"I know!" Soda shouted; I jumped, "let's go see Jack and Johnny."

I shrugged, "ok." We hollered to Darry telling him we were going to get Johnny and Jackson. He told us to hurry because he had to leave for work in thirty minutes.

We stopped at Johnny's house first, he and Jackson started going out the day before. I walked up to the porch and rang the doorbell, a woman who looked a lot like Johnny answered, "yes?" she said quietly.

"Uhh, is Johnny here?" I asked awkwardly.

She shut the door, "Jonathon!" she barked, "there's someone at the door for you!" she shouted a couple seconds later, she sounded as cold as he eyes looked.

A few seconds later, Johnny showed up at the door with a split lip and a bruise on his cheek. "Hey Pon." He said almost inaudibly.

"What happened?"

He laughed uncomfortably and whispered, "fuckin' jocks."

Something wasn't right but I shrugged, "we're gonna go get Jack and go to my house, wanna come?" I asked, bouncing slightly. He nodded and grabbed a hoodie.

We jumped into the car and took off toward Jackson's house. We could hear the bass and drums from her music in the car over our radio and I wondered why her neighbors hadn't filed a noise complaint.

Otep's song "Filthee" was playing. It gave me a headache, Johnny however seemed to like it, he bobbed his head up and down with the drums slightly. We were aloud to just walk into each other's houses, its been that way since I could remember.

"C'mon Jack, lemme in!" Jenna shouted, banging on her door.

"What's up?" Soda asked curiously.

Jenna shrugged, "she's done nothing but play that damn song for the last three days, she won't talk to anyone but you guys and she's not sleeping!" she explained frustrated.

Soda turned the knob on her door and we saw her sitting at her desk chair, her knees hugged to her chest, her head bobbing up and down to the beat, singing the words to the song.

"Hey Jack." I said quietly as I turned the music down.

Her eyes darted around the room before finally landing on us, "hey." She replied.

"Wanna come to our house? We haven't seen you much this week and we've got food." Soda said, taking a step toward her, looking apprehensive. She looked depressed-not depressed, but angry.

(Jackson's P.O.V)

Act normal! I told myself. I hopped up and clapped my hands together, plastering a fake smile on my face. They can't know. I walked up to Johnny and gave him a quick peck on the lips. They can't know. I laced my fingers in his.

"Sure." I said quietly, cutting off my music. I played Otep's "Filthee" because that's exactly what I was feeling, filthy. Filthy-they can't know-my fault. These thoughts had echoed through my mind since Monday when IT happened. It was now Friday. I had lived in fear and pain for four days.

We left my house and jumped into the car, "what's wrong?" Johnny asked me quietly.

I shrugged, gently kissed the bruise on his cheek and nestled my head in the crook of his neck. "Just tired, what happened to you? Someone really beat the hell out of you." I replied. They can't know-dirty-filthy-my fault.

"Jocks, no big. It's not as bad as it looks" he said into my hair.

"Hmmm, ok." I sighed. I felt safe when I was with the guys, they would never hurt me. I shuddered.

"You ok?" Johnny asked, feeling me shudder against him.

I shook my head, "nothin.'"

We pulled into the driveway of the Curtis's house and climbed out of the truck. "Darry!" Soda called as we entered the house, "the cars free!"

"Ok!" Darry hollered back from his room, he exited, took one look at Johnny and I. Johnny with his bruised face and me with my bruised face, paler that clean snow with shadows under my eyes. "What happened to you guys?" he asked, eyeing us carefully.

"Jocks," Johnny said, sounding slightly irritated at having to repeat himself.

"Insomnia and mosh pits don't look well when mixed together." I yawned. I plopped down on the couch and my eyes shut immediately. I was out of my house and safe. I could finally sleep.

(Johnny's P.O.V)

I was worried about Jack. She was really spacey and looked horrible. After she fell asleep it didn't take long until she was snoring lightly. Her breathing evened and she looked about four years younger, I suddenly felt bad about lying about who beat me up.

About twenty minutes after Jack fell asleep she started twitching and whimpering, crying in her sleep and finally screaming and thrashing around violently.

"Help me!" she screamed in her sleep, "not again, please no!"

"Jack?" Soda said gently, shaking her slightly. Her eyes shot open and she edged away from him, her eyes darting around the room. She was terrified.

Soda reached his arm out to touch her but she inched away, "don't touch me." She whimpered and took a shaky breath.

"Jack what's wrong?" Pony asked, he was paled and looked how I felt. "Are you ok?"

She cleared her throat and wiped away the tears that were streaming down her cheeks, I wanted to hug her and comfort her but she wouldn't let anyone touch her so it was virtually impossible.

"I'm fine." She whispered, "just a bad dream, a really bad dream." She told us, another tear slid down her cheek. "Oh shit!" she practically screamed, shooting up and running into the bathroom. We heard her throwing up and then the toilet flush. I went in to check on her, she was hunched over the sink, her sleeves rolled up to her elbow, splashing water on her face, her wrists and forearms were covered in bruises.

"What happened?" I asked cautiously.

"I puked, duh." She answered sarcastically.

"I mean your arms."

She shrugged, "nothing, I'm a klutz, ask any of the guys out there and they'll tell you. Chancey and I were playing football." She told me. I thought it was a lie but I wasn't sure. I was the king of dishonestly but she and her brother did horse around a lot so it could've been the truth.

"Want a smoke?" I asked her, offering her a cigarette.

She accepted gratefully, lit up, inhaled slowly and exhaled. I could see her relaxing a bit. She rolled her sleeves down and took another drag. We left the bathroom and rejoined everyone in the living room.

"You ok Hun?" Soda asked her.

She nodded, "knew I shouldn't have eaten Jenna's cooking." She joked, "I swear her favorite ingredient is arsenic."

Ponyboy snorted and everyone else smiled, "hey Soda that sounds like you!" he remarked.

Soda popped him the finger and the rest of us laughed. It was true the boy couldn't cook. "So what was your bad dream about?" he asked curiously.

She took a deep breath, "it's hard to explain really, all I know is I got stabbed." She answered lightly.

"Wow, that would suck." This came from Two-Bit who had just walked in while we were in the bathroom. Jackson laughed, but her smile didn't reach her eyes.

"Yeah it did. So what happened this week Dahlinks?" she asked, changing the subject uncomfortably.

"Same shit, different day." Came from Ponyboy.

(Soda's P.O.V)

There was something really wrong with Jack she was really different. She was usually joking around with Two-Bit and playing cards, but today she just sat down and said hardly a whole sentence at a time.

"Do you think it would be cool with Darry if I crashed here on the couch for a couple nights?" she asked quietly, making sure to pronounce every syllable correctly.

I shrugged, "I don't think he would care, I mean it's not a school night so he shouldn't have a problem with it."

I studied her face carefully, something was really wrong with her, her eyes were bleary and she looked like she would cry at any second. Her face was swollen and worn and bruised. She had worry wrinkles on her forehead that weren't there four days before. She was paler than usual with dark, gray shadows under her eyes. Her hair was all over the place but the rest of her was extremely clean. Her skin was red and flaking from what looked like a bad sunburn but…Jack was never in the sun long enough to get sunburn. She was wearing jeans that would fit half the gang in the, and her long sleeve shirt underneath the short sleeved, humungous, button up shirt that I'd gotten for her at the DX. Something was defiantly wrong with her.