Two-Bit visits his house.

I do not own The Outsiders

Two-Bit POV

My mom had died a while back, about five or six years ago. I had gone to the funeral. She died a natural death, or so the police said. Not sure if they're right or not but everything she owned went to Kendra, nothing but love for me. But I'm okay with that. My house is boarded up, but it isn't torn down so I'll see the state about that. I'm going to see if they will let me buy it and live there. I'd rather live in my own house than in an apartment. I came across it on my way to the hotel I'm currently staying at. I went right up to it and took a good look at it. I need to find a way in there. That was when I noticed that my room window wasn't boarded up. That's good enough for me. I made sure no one was out watching me or anything. I pressed my hands against the wall, then dug my fingers in. I pulled myself up just a little, reached up, and put my foot onto the window just under my room window. Then, I snagged onto the window sill above my head. I pulled myself up all the way into the house and fell into a basket.

"Ow." I moaned, looking around. I was in my room. All my things were there, like no one had made an attempt to move them. I just wished I had fallen onto my bed. But I was in my basket. The one I fell into the morning of my nineteenth birthday. And, not being as skinny as I was at nineteen, I was stuck. I'm not fat, I'm just bigger. But more or less, I was stuck. After falling onto the floor, I wiggled out of the basket. My floor felt the same. I looked around as I got back up. Nothing changed. I opened my door and walked out. I walked down the hall and came upon the door at the end of the hall, my mothers room. I jiggled the handle, but it didn't open. I reached up at the upper door frame and searched for the key. It wasn't there. I dug in my pockets for a paperclip. After finding one, I bent it and twisted it until satisfied. I stuck it in the lock and worked it until the door sprung free. I went in, and froze. It smelled like the same stale blood from the playground in the park. I wonder if she was murdered. I just hoped she didn't. I looked around. I went to her bathroom and looked around. I looked at myself in the mirror.

I couldn't remember what I looked like when I was a kid. Going back in her room, I saw a picture of me when I was eighteen. I picked it up and went back to the bathroom mirror. I stuck it to the mirror, next to the reflection of my face, and stared from it to the reflection. I looked harder. Then, I went back because I saw a picture of my father. I took it and went back. I put it next to the picture of the eighteen year old me. I compared all three faces.

In the one of me at eighteen, I was joking around, hanging on Darry like he was my brother. Soda was there, with his long hair and soft face. He was laughing with Steve. Steve was there too, he was fixing his hair and making a face. Maybe that's why Soda was laughing. I looked at the ground of the picture and saw Dally, being attacked by Johnny and Pony. Dally was laughing like he didn't have a care in the world, enjoying his time with the gang. Johnny was laughing too. He was messing with Dally and laughing. Always laughing when he was with Dally. Pony was trying to stop a laugh and trying to pull Johnny off of Dally.

But now, almost ten years later, we all grew up. We weren't greasers anymore. We were people now. Just adults. Darry, twenty-nine and already getting gray hair. Sodapop and Steve, two men in the army with hair cut so short it was almost shaved. Ponyboy, manager of the local supermarket and refuses to be called by his real name. The name he loved so much as a kid. Johnny, who looks generally the same except harder. Dallas, in jail for the past nine years. And me, a stupid older man with a stupid beard and a stupid attitude that makes me loose my closest friends. We're all grown up and I don't want us to be.

My father, a damned drunk. Looking at him and looking my tear-streaked face in the mirror, I see me and him are exactly the same. Both drunk, both complete idiots for leaving the people they loved the most. I moved the picture aside. He was a drunk, probably where I got it from. He was an idiot, also where I got it. And he was a bastard. Just like me. I looked at the faces, then pointed at the one of me at eighteen.

"Past..." I said, then moved my finger to my reflection, "Present," I moved my finger to the picture of my father, "And... future." Then I punched the mirror, cracking both the glass and the skin on my knuckles. I picked up the pictures and stuffed them, bloody and all, in my pocket. The blood soaked the fabric on my shirt. I picked up a shard of mirror and looked at my reflection again. The piece of mirror was cracked. So was my face. I put it in the other shirt pocket. I left the bathroom and went to my moms night-stand. I opened the drawer and took out a small little book. It was her diary. I flipped through it, noticing some pages were bloody. I didn't pay any attention. I put it in the back of my pants, usually where I'd put a gun. Then, I turned and left the room. I went back to my room and into the bathroom. I opened the cabinet and took out a razor. Then, the shaving cream. I shut the cabinet and looked in my mirror this time. I looked like I did in my moms mirror. I splashed water on my face and then spread the shaving cream over the lower half of my face. I stared at the blade on my razor.

"I won't let my self become my father." and I ran it down my cheek. It was a clean swipe and left no hairs. "I refuse to become my father." I continued to run the razor down my face until I left no beard. I washed my face off and dried it with a towel. I took out the group picture of the greasers and compared my face to the one of me in the picture. I look almost back to the way I was nine years ago. Except I've aged. It was good enough, so I put the picture back in my pocket. Yeah, it's good enough. I went out and went to Kendra's room. Dally commented it once of being too pink. I agree with him, it is too pink. I also noticed that the room was cleaner. Clean room plus Kendra equals a sign of the world coming to an end. I looked around. Nothing caught my eye, so I left. I went down stairs and tried to turn on a light. Electricity is off. I didn't need it. I made my way to the kitchen and looked around. Nothing really changed. I noticed the alcohol was the same. I took a bottle of cherry vodka off of the shelf and took a swig. I swore I wasn't gonna drink vodka in front of Kendra. I wasn't gonna give it up all together. I took another swig. I just wasn't gonna get drunk. Sitting down at the kitchen table, I sighed. Then I leaned back and balanced the bottle on my forehead. A trick I learned at the company.

It was the company's fault I grew up. But it's a good job, so I have to stay. I just don't want to grow up anymore. I sighed, took the bottle, and took another swig. I was gonna stay here for the night, if the police come, let them, I won't care. It's my house.

It always will be my house. No matter what anyone says. I wiped away a tear and finished off the bottle. Damn it all.

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