Hi, fans of my work (and that of Night Lady, too)! I finally wrote a multi-chapter story. Very hard. Lol. Anyway, I don't own the outsiders… Unfortunately! Lol. Anyway, here is, without further ado, Saving Dallas
Dallas had made it through being shot. Barely. Everyone had thought that the teenager had met his match in seven gunshot wounds, some of them should have been fatal, but weren't. Dallas, however, had taken to other means to try and dull the pain of losing the only person he had ever, truly, cared about.
He had always been a bit of a binge drinker, sometimes bordering on an alcoholic, but now he was way past the verge on 'alcoholic'. Dallas had turned into a raging drunk. Every time he was drunk enough to forget the pain, he was also so shit-faced that life was like a permanent hangover.
This morning Darryl Curtis heard the typical morning alarm of retching echoing out of the tiled bathroom. It had become a morning routine: Darry would wake up to the sounds of Dally's throwing up last night's alcohol intake, then get him a glass of water and 2 aspirin, then go wake up Sodapop if he was working, and if it was a week-day, Ponyboy too.
This morning Darry heard a new sound. It was nearly muffled by the sound of vomit hitting water, but there is was. Darry had heard it enough times in his life to know that Dallas Winston was crying. For the first time in over 6 months of the morning routine, as it had been dubbed, Darry didn't know what to do for the tow-headed teen.
Dallas was sick. Not just from the beer, whiskey and wine he had downed last night, but from everything. He was tired of the throbbing physical pain in his head, only dulled by two aspirins now. He was sick of the mental pain of losing Johnny, and even sicker of himself.
Dallas had always hated everything about his family, from his mother's tramp ways to his father's nearly constant comatose state of drunkenness. But now he wondered if his father had a reason for being so drunk all the time. Dally knew that he was bordering on become his father, Johnny's father and Steve's father all rolled into one drunk bastard, and didn't like it one bit. He had hit Sylvia last night, and he never hit girls before. He needed help, but damn himself if he was going to ask for it, or even except it if it was offered.
Another spasm shook him as he threw up more liquor and unidentifiable substances. It was mostly whiskey, as it was the fastest working and he was hardly sober enough to eat anymore. Oh, how he hated being sober! It was that annoying little state between morning and partying all night, subdued only by bottles of beer that Two-Bit always had.
Darry padded into the bathroom, his feet making barely a sound on the carpet. Dallas didn't even see him. It was truly a pathetic sight. Dal kneeled in front of the toilet, his forearms resting on the seat, heavily breathing. The teen's bare torso was thin and marred by several large round scars-the remnants of 'that night' as they all referred to it. His ribs stuck out a bit, and his backbone showed. He was pale, too. And crying. Sobbing in fact. Darry had never seen him cry before.
He walked over to the linen closet and pulled out a blue towel and the aspirin hidden behind the towels, and walked over to Dally. "Here." he said, handing the boy the towel. He waved it off frantically as he heaved once more. When he was done he took the towel. He wiped off his chin and sat back on his heels.
Darry studied his friend's face with concern as he filled a small paper Dixie cup with water, and handed it and two large white pills to the boy. Dallas' face was pale and sickly looking. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and small dark flecks marred his face, evidence of the morning routine. Dirt smudged one cheek. A small, clean wet tear trail lead through the dirty side.
Dallas knew what was coming, but he needed to say it. It was as though someone else was speaking for him, saying the words he now whispered. "Darry, help me. I need help." and with that, he promptly burst into tears even harder.
Darry didn't know what to do other than hug the young man. He sank to his knees and roughly pulled Dallas into a hug, holding him while he cried. Dallas sobbed into Darry's shoulder, begging for help. "Don't worry, Dal. I'll get it for you. Don't worry."
Darry held Dallas until he pulled away, wiping his tears. Automatically the thick facade was up again. He downed the aspirin and uttered a gruff, "I'm gonna go lay down". Darry sighed and shook his head. He woke Sodapop up, since it was his day to work, and Ponyboy, as well, since the young man had school.
After both boys were gone, Darry retreated to his room to make some phone calls. First he phoned the police. They didn't help much. All they did was laugh at him and tell him that Dallas Winston would never reform. Then he called the hospital. They instructed him to call a detox facility located a few miles away or try AA meetings. Darry automatically dismissed AA. Dallas would never go to a meeting of 'alkies' to talk out his feelings.
Darry phoned Blackwell Detox Facility, a small group of people who worked specifically with teenagers like Dallas. They whole-heartedly agreed to help him for up to three months, and no fee was necessary as it was a non-profit organization. It all seemed perfect. He arranged to meet the facility managers the next day.
Blackwell had no obvious markings. It could have been an old school, or something like that, and aside from the sign that read 'Blackwell Facility' in bold black lettering, he saw no others markers. The place seemed nice enough. Each patient got their own room, and they shared a cafeteria... All in all, it was like a boarding school almost.
The only two problems that he faced was either getting Dallas to sign the papers, or getting custody of Dallas... Or getting his father to sign the papers. Also, getting Dally into the building would be a problem. Either way, first things first: to get the paperwork done.
Darry filled out the paperwork, all except for the signatures. That he did after he left. He drove over to Dallas' house (not that he spent much time there) and spoke to his mother. She wouldn't sign the paperwork. He asked her if Mr. Winston had signed anything recently. She gave a tearful nod and produced a check receipt for the local liquor store. Darry smiled and thanked her. He would convince the old man that he had signed the paperwork when he had been drunk or so. For now, he had to go home and work on forging these things.
The forgery itself was pretty simple: outline, copy and then write. It was nearly a carbon-copy. Darry drove the paperwork over to the BF, as he liked to call it now. They looked at him a bit odd when he turned the paperwork in, but didn't ask questions. "Now, Mr. Winston," they said, not quite believing him, "You'll need to sign your brother in here. And here, and here." they said, as Darry filled in the appropriate names in the blanks.
They gave a nod and filed the papers. "Now, I have a question. Do you do pick up services? There is no way I will be able to get Dallas in here." he said. The receptionist gave a chuckle and shook her head. "No, I'm sorry Mr. Winston. Perhaps if you bring him in after he's passed out." she said, and returned to her filings. Darry nodded. "When should I bring him in?" he asked. The receptionist looked at a chart on the wall. "About 7:30 tomorrow morning would be fine." Darry nodded and walked out into the parking lot.
He wasn't sure he wanted to do this to Dallas. It would definitely hurt their relationship as friends, but something had to be done before Dally died from alcohol poisoning, which Darry feared was what he wanted.
He inserted the key into the pickup's lock and opened the door. He could tell that Dallas borrowed the truck the night before because of the stench of beer that reeked from the seat - which he thought must have had a bottle spilled on it. Thank god he didn't get caught. They would have impounded the truck.
Dally groaned at the sudden light from the door opening. He had a throbbing migraine that just wouldn't go away. "Goin' out partying tonight?" Darry asked. Dallas nodded. "Anything to get drunk..."
Darry was awake at 2 o'clock that morning, when Dally finally stumbled through the door. He had been fighting again. A large purple bruise blossomed on the side of his face and blood trickled form a cut above his eye.
He stumbled over to the couch and flopped onto it, laughing hysterically in a drunken way and slurring a re-count of the fight to Darry, who wasn't in the least bit interested and was wetting a paper towel to dab at the cut. Dallas hardly noticed as his friend cleaned the wound, but kept on talking, if you could call the slurred sounds speech. A few moments after that, Dally lay down and passed out.
Darry heaved a sigh or relief. This wasn't going to be easy. He had let in Sodapop and Ponyboy on the plan, and they in turn told Steve and Two-Bit. Darry groaned when he found out that Two-Bit knew. He was sure that ol' Two-Bit would tip Dally off, but he didn't. Two-Bit didn't like being out-drank, which Dally often did to him.
Alright, guys. That was chapter one. There is one more chapter to come, and an epilauge. I'm one of the wonderful writers who writes the stories I post before I acutally post them! Now, then, please reveiw. I love constructive criticism. All flames will be used to burn my report card.