Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own it.
Summary: - How could this happen to me? I made my mistakes, got nowhere to run, but the night goes on . . . - Pushed to the edge by guilt, Dally decides to end it all. One-shot ((Based on Simple Plan's "Untitled".))
Rating: T
Author Notes: I was listening to this song, when I realized that it basically described everything that was going through Dally's head when he was robbing the bank and everything. Since in the book, it's from Ponyboy's view, I decided to make this fic in Dally's point of view. Yeah. Sorry if it sucks. x x;
Second Chance
I open my eyes,
I try to see, but I'm blinded by the white light
I can't remember how
I can't remember why
I'm lying here tonight
Slamming the hospital door behind me, I completely forgot about Ponyboy. I didn't care. I didn't care about anything. This was the first time in a damn long time since I've felt like this. I never wanted this feeling to come back, but it did. And you know what?
It's all my fault.
It's all my fault for everything. Shoot, I wanted to deny it, but I couldn't. I wanted to tell myself that everything would be okay, but it won't. I knew that it wouldn't.
It's all my fault.
The kid didn't deserve to die. It was my fault. It was all my fault. I wasn't quick enough. I could've stopped them from getting out of the car. I could've pulled Johnny out there before the roof collapsed. But I didn't. Why didn't I? If anyone deserved to die today, it was me.
It was me.
I deserved to die. Johnny never did anything. He just took all the pain, and saved those kids. Even beating up the Socs didn't help at all.
I gritted my teeth, trying to take in deep, steady breaths, but I couldn't. I needed to be strong. No one could see me crying. I hadn't felt like crying for so long that it hurt. Everything in my body just froze on the spot, and for a split second, I thought everything in me shut down.
'No, keep going . . .' I told myself, heading towards my car. I looked at it for a while. It meant nothing. It had no real value to me. Everything I earned and lived off of had no meaning anymore. I realized that nothing really matters once you lose that person that you actually care about.
I tried to convince myself that I didn't care about Johnny, but he was my best friend. He was the only one to see me as me, not some tough hood. And he looked up to me for that. But why . . .? Why'd he have to be so . . . caring . . .? Why didn't he just be cruel and let those kids die?
I would've.
I tore open the door to the car, and I was so . . . I didn't even know how I felt. Scared? Miserable? Guilty? I watched the cars pass by me for a while, seeing light flow by me at the speed of life. Why did everything have to go so fast?
And I can't stand the pain.
And I can't make it go away.
No, I can't stand the pain . . .
As I began to drive, my eyes started to burn. So did that place called my heart, which I didn't think I'd ever have to deal with for the rest of my life. I couldn't take it. Why him? Why us? Why me? Why did we have to be at the bottom of everything?
The pain rose to my neck, and it was like I was being strangled by something. 'It wasn't me!' I thought, but the grip was tightened. I couldn't breathe for a few seconds. Everything was a blur, and the next thing I knew it, I'd crashed into some sidewalk or something. That was when I drew in the quickest breath I'd ever taken, and it hurt like a knife being shoved into my chest.
"D-damn . . ." was all I could say before I felt a tear streak down my cheek. 'No . . . I can't cry. I just can't!' But I already was. Everything hurt, and I heard myself let out a sob.
Why? I just wanted to know why . . .
How could this happen to me?
I made my mistakes,
Got no where to run.
The night goes on
As I'm fading away.
I'm sick of this life—
I just wanna scream!
How could this happen to me?
I knew what I had to do. It seemed to be the only option for me. There seemed to be no other way out. Nothing mattered anymore. Beating the Socs? That meant nothing. Even Johnny said that. It was useless. If you were a greaser, it didn't matter. If you were a Soc, it didn't matter. You were still human, and you'd die eventually, but why did it have to be so soon? Why me?
The world just seemed to be after me. I have a rough life, and I managed to live off of what I had, but then Johnny died. Is it that everyone and everything just hates me?
I just sat there for a while, seeing the steam blow out from under the hood of my car. Everything was useless. Nothing mattered.
I knew what I had to do.
Getting out of the car, I tried my best to pull myself together, and I stuck my hand into my pocket. I looked at the ground, asking myself if I really wanted to do this. But the truth was that I did. Closing my eyes for a second, I knew that it was over. This was the last time I'd cry for sure. I promised myself that I never would again, because I knew that I'd never have another chance to.
The guy at the register looked scared when I took my hand out of my pocket and pointed my gun at his head. It wasn't loaded, but no one would know that. I knew that the police wouldn't care if they killed me. No one'd care if I was dead. Why? Because I was just like everything else.
Useless. Hated. Whatever you want to say.
"Give me the money," I said in the steadiest voice that I could. But I thought that I was going to break down into tears as I looked into the man's eyes. He handed me the money and then set off an alarm. I didn't know that the guy had a gun, but he did, and shot somewhere above my hand. It hurt, but I still ran to the nearest phone booth . . .
Everybody's screaming.
I try to make a sound, but no one hears me.
I'm slipping off the edge—
I'm hanging by a thread;
I wanna start this over again.
"Hello?"
"I need'a talk to Darry."
"Dallas, where are you!"
He sounded so concerned for me. "I'm sorry, Darry . . ." I said quietly, though I knew that he couldn't hear me. I cleared my throat, and then said as best as I could, "I . . . I'm in trouble, man. I robbed a store and the police are after me. Meet me at the lot, okay?"
"We'll be there."
I hung up, leaving the money at the phone booth. I didn't need it. I didn't need anything anymore. I ran towards the lot, and I knew that the police where right behind me. That's right where I wanted them to be. They didn't have me where they wanted, I had them where I wanted.
"Dally!" I heard someone yell, and I only ran faster. They were all I had left, and I didn't want to hurt them. For the first time in my life, I was sorry. I was sorry because I knew that I'd be hurting them. But that's what I did . . .
I hurt people.
That's the only thing I'm really good at. Hurting people . . . if I were like Johnny, I wouldn't have been there. I would have been driving Ponyboy back to Darry's or something, but I wasn't like Johnny, and I took the easy way out.
I guess I always did take the easy way out. Johnny took the harder way out. He dealt with his parents beating him up, but I just pushed it all away. In reality, he was a lot stronger than me. It was me who should've admired him.
He was the strongest of all of us. The strongest guy I ever knew.
How could this happen to me?
I made my mistakes,
Got no where to run.
The night goes on
As I'm fading away.
I'm sick of this life—
I just wanna scream!
How could this happen to me?
I glanced back at the cops, who were pulling out their guns. They were probably all waiting for when they could shoot down the famous Dallas Winston, huh? They all looked ready to shoot me, and I was gave them what they wanted.
"Dally, no!"
I just wanted my friends to know . . . I guess . . . I was. . . what was that word . . .
Sorry . . .
I made my mistakes,
Got no where to run.
The night goes on
As I'm fading away.
I'm sick of this life—
I just wanna scream!
How could this happen to me?
" . . . Sorry, guys . . ."
"S'okay, Dal."
What the . . . ? Were my ears deceiving me? Wait . . . ears? Wasn't I supposed to be in hell rotting and burning?
I opened and eye . . . wait. I opened an eye. There were the guys, standing there, looking down at me. "How you doin', man?"
"What . . .?"
"Man, you've been asleep for . . . I don't even know how long," Steve chuckled.
"A long time," Soda grinned.
"You have a blade, Dal? You promised you'd give it back!" I stared at Two-Bit, who cocked a brow at me. "What? You're asleep for a while and now you can't understand English?"
A painful grin appeared on my face. "Of course, man . . . I'll give it to you later . . ." my voice was really hoarse, but it was okay. It's not like it mattered, because nothing matters.
I know that wasn't luck. It was Johnny. I don't know how, but it was.
I think I got my second chance.
Author Notes: Someone who reviewed "Incomplete" asked me to do another story like that, so I came up with this. O o; I think this fic is kind of stupid, but yeah. XD
Curse me for being so sentimental. --; I tried to make it void of emotion, but since Dally's obviously thinking about something for once,it's kind of . . . er . . . contemplative? Yeah. You would think of your life before you decided to have yourself get shot, right? I would. XD
I just couldn't let Dally die, because for one, the gun wasn't loaded. Two, he didn't even keep the damn money. Three, he's my favorite character and I guess I have a major soft spot for him. XD So there you go.
Please review!
When you review, tell me whether I should've let him die or not, okay?